2009 A odyssey Year

Unlike any corporations, i do not maintain a profit and Loss account of my life year by year rather i have never followed any particular year so closely and have never realized so many upheavals with tempting aftermaths. A tumultuous year; An eye opener; A check with realty; could be the ideal ways to describe 2009 for me. For the first time I would like to dissect, the last year among so many of my life in search of some soul piercing occult ideologies of life.

For more focus and better evaluation, i would divide it into four quarters.

Jan-Feb-March.

The clamour of deadly recession knitted with stupefying silence gutted me like many others. 2009 was ushered in with pessimistic anticipation to reinforce some of the blurred big dreams. Every morning newspaper of January bought in the stories of grater plight of economy spreading like contagious epidemic; but it also catered some respite to me knowing that the best of the bests churns has also been tore apart by the sharp edge scalpel widely known as recession. All my sent mails had a word doc attachment to it, but my inbox was scantly cluttered with all sorts of advertisements other than job. I was never counting on Feb given its size but it was a friend of mine from a job consultancy who zeroed on me only because we are friends.

7^th of Feb: Early morning around eight i was on my way to Alipore road. From Hazra i hopped into a Kiderpore bound Auto rickshaw. Intermittingly i was taking out the piece of paper from my pocket, which had the office address and the name of the building. A colour smudged face with befitting scarlet lips, the end of the sari tucked under the black petticoat inviting stares into her naval pith, waiting on the railing of Kalighat bridge. Some time back i had read in a local magazine that the thorns of recession have not even spared these unfortunates, so she doesn’t even have time to allow her mutilated body with some rest after a forced night. Therefore, she was all ready at her venue for business and i was on my way to it. After several rounds of interview and medical check-up i was given the offer cum training letter by Glaxo smithkline for the role of Medical Representative.

Glaxo Smithkline breached the obnoxious jinx with events which made me feel like a countess, for training i went to Mumbai for the first time in a three tier AC, was booked at a posh and pompous four-star hotel in Juhu for twenty odd days. By the mid of March i reported at my headquarters in Kolkata. In the all India, training programme i was a significant performer but that was just a sliver of the greater task ahead. I was licked by the new system but i was not a formless lump of flesh thus never surrendered to the new dice to put the cast on me. So i ended the first quarter with substantial profit margin derived out of the pragmatic doctrines.

Apr-May-Jun.

With the onset of one more fresh and glowing summer, i felt clammy. It was like one of those humid days; when you long for thundershowers but that longing does not cramp you from excising your mundane rituals of keeping the uneasiness at bay. Therefore, every morning with the cult bag by my side i made towering promises without giving any wild thought to the underprepared foundation. Whereas on one side i kept on anointing all those baseless promises which never got emancipated but on the other side i never ceased dreaming about my own targets which apparently looked magnanimous but not invincible.

April being the start of the second quarter and the first for me on the job i was given some very modest targets of calling some leading dermatologist in my defined territory and doing the rounds of chemist shops on daily basis. Although it looked simple given the brand with which i was associated but i kept on failing and the only sole reason for such a debacle was my alienation from the job. Where my fellow cotemporaries were hitting both the field and the sales targets regularly which bought them some early accolades in the form of praise and appreciation letter; i was making my life miserable with unnecessary pressure. My perturbed manager went on enquiring about the problem or the problems i was facing with my job. He was all there to play the mentoring role but what can the mentor do with a subject, which is all distorted with aspirations’ and is practising Anthethesis mode.(though i have realized his noble endeavour recently)

Even “May” was no better than the preceding month; i was regretting for the hasty move but then what could i have done, for three months i was jobless before this happened and there was no looking back then. I wanted to relinquish the very profiting job but then what next; and to make it worse i was bleeding emotionally(blood was oozing out profusely but the clotting material was never seen). So stood there transfixed gaping at the vocational option which could have offered in loads but surely not in the way i wanted to have it. Situation was such that the luscious jobless condition wilted under the atrocious flame of obsoleteness or i was never of any use to her; it was just my feeling of being the new thing in her life.

9^th June i was just sure that few decisions of life which are made in hurry or in false perception can never sow wonders but can give you insightful lessons which might facilitate in the long and tedious journey of landmark success. I whole-heartedly accepted the fact that my decision to embark on a Sales Marketing profile job was never correct; probably i would never enjoy something like this. At least the unyielding job guarded the copious flow of emotion for sometime in a day but now it was my turn to wade through some of the agonized feelings without any stoppages; just the way some of my acquaintances have done in the past with due credit to me.

So finished the second quarter with one of the most coveted learning of mortal life “What goes around that comes around”.

Jul-Aug-Sep.

Now every know nook and corner had an unknown sobriquet with fear all around; fear of running away from my own dilapidated shadow(how can one live disowning its own shadow). Thoughts clogged my dilated lungs and formed indelible wrinkles on my body. “Arko” was no more just a colleague; even he had left his job and now we made a great combo. Given that, particular point there was number of things in common between us and thus we gelled standing rebel to the signature theory of science that “Like poles repel each other”. ( Skew between pure science and behavioural science). He was god’s apostle sent for me who allowed me to puke the most irritating memories on him and never asked questions about the stains; appeared upright with a single summon pampering all my dogmatism; sufficed me with all the crude suggestions wrapping it with the transparent muslin which never restricted my sight from reality and the softness gave some relief to the existing scars.

The dark heavy cloud was dishevelled by the omnipotent rays but the threat of overcast loomed by the sideline. The harbinger of godly charm had already descended on earth to give face-lift to all possible sorts of grey numbness. The city was roaring to go; (while whitewashing the wall few streaks of split go unnoticed later on the same streaks evolves into lethal cracks). I ambulated in the gala crowd but couldn’t form a admixture with it; just as water never does it with oil no matter what is the percentage of ratio. By this time, i had some very clear indications that this state of emotional indifference is here to stay; there is not much i can do on my own and was desperately seeking for a solitary hibernation mode during those four days in which this city wears its most courteous apparel and platters the best hospitality to the lady with ten hands and her children. As they say every cloud has a silver lining to it; probably she saw one of her son in sublime desperation and agony and thought of gifting him with a job in disguise of engagement.

So just before DURGA PUJA i had a job of my own and this time every possible nuances of my life was at stake (it was like a branch hanging over the sticky quagmire which had gutted me to its bottom; i tried clinging to it but then was pulled back by the creepers of heartbreaking memories, My conscious effort to hold the branch was there and one day my nervous fingers showed solidarity towards my state and endeavour to change it and i left the bottom and raked my fragile torso from the pool of quintessential emotion contaminated by rage).

This quarter i befriended few souls irrespective of age those who tendered the empathetic treatment over phony sympathetic diagnosis.

OCT-NOV-DEC.

Like the catastrophe hit dwellers of the coastal region who after mulling over their never changing sorry fate plunge into erecting edifice with intermitting gusto only to realize some better days in life; i was also there sweeping the debris and recollecting some of my serious wishes which i had left in the midway due to sheer ignorance.

This job gave me a sense of back to normality; i started to reckon that all would be well in sometime. The treatment had just started and i was recovering but then the relapse rate was also quite high. Surprisingly even after being dumped which made me feel like an obsolete i could manage to slip in with my new acquaintances in office pretty well. Couple of my old friends even complained the way i looked; according to them, my behaviour was not exuding my kind of individuality and if i continue to be like this then they would not mind calling me a NERD. Here in office nobody complained about the way i looked but at times became inquisitive about my everlasting frown. Some said i keep on shuttling between few moments of high and eternity of low (yes you guys are right i was never like this; probably in some time i will strike a ideal balance between high and low and then again be high on high).

In the mean time, i did not enact any act of reconciliation with her but made countless silent prayers for a miracle. I thought it to be a test of patience and perseverance and never wanted to lose hope; every night i went to bed with some sort of eagerness to see a new morning which would have something miracle in it. Slowly that eagerness fizzled out because now i bought in extra baggage of fatigue everyday from my workplace. This lady whom i knew now for almost some years; yes at least three odd. No not the same one about whom i have been hinting above for so long.

It was the last day of 2006, the man in the Vodafone kiosk was punching my number for easy recharge and there she stood taking a correct note of the same by eavesdropping. Since then we kept on exchanging few texts; starting with the anonymous ones followed by pseudo identity. Ironically, it was me who pounced on her without any invitation every time through wee hour phone calls, buzzing her on the street during unscheduled trysts because we lived in adjacent locality. I was never perturbed by her disgusting ignorance because i was having more muses for rowdy passion. I lost her number so did she (actually both of us pretended to be careless) but this muse never passed away in the oblivion as four eye balls caught each other very frequently through adrenaline rush rendezvous. Time went on but i could see no apparent amendment in her gestures towards me; so she was there in the loop of lust but was cornered by few more numbers.

Now i met her by chance and this time she greeted me lot more gracefully something, which was not very much expected out of her. I was no more a jumping jack ready for the plunge, more of the docile kind. Was lacking the coherent mannerisms of charm and failed to latch on to the signs of truce. Gradually our proximity increased and the same girl who could have been one of the muse now tendered her uncompromising vastness in an endeavour to make optimum space for me where i could dry the scars and start concocting joyful moments.

We started meeting almost regularly without any reinforced pretexts and by now, she had started jutting out unambiguous vehement prospective signals of availability but still i managed to put-up a sincere indifference to anything and everything. But as they say “only a woman can downsize the pain given by some other woman”.

In December she made a unceremonious foray into my tumultuous realm and proclaimed better pragmatic changes over ephemeral high-rise. She projected me right at the forefront so that nothing remains hidden behind the aisle and simultaneously ignited the latent vigour to face-off the blatant fact. She was now the “Omnipresent SHE” in my life and once again, i wanted to start afresh.

This has undoubtedly been an eventful year and it has indoctrinated me with the small secret of how to gain calm in the most delirious situations; hopefully 20-10 would teach me how to maintain calm when good times will confiscate me gracefully.

The Last Ride

“My imaginative prowess will help you to sail through this piece not your logic”

The cosmic racecourse muddled with smog and vehement neon light piercing the meadow strangled my regular thought process and siphoned me into the solitary corridor. In a state of trance, I ambulated on the pavement jutting out from the boundary wall of SSKM not perturbed by the throng of people who jolted among themselves to embark on the right bus. Skewing easily through the commotion my whole sole endeavor was to douse the flame of some of my scintillating memories which I can’t cherish anymore but only lament with feeble hope. Cars speeding down the AJC Bose Flyover, the staircase of Rabindra Sadan waved good-bye to the last couple, cops guarding the cultural hub of the city donned in their blue duty coat with baton under their arm had already started making their move.

The deserted look around craned my loneliness and craving for a character which is nothing but surely an enigma and would remain so for the rest of my life. Why me??? Why me??? Why am I not lucky like the others??? Relentless ….questions. Why am I so dump and incorrigible; there is something called destiny and I was never destined for it; ok; then why did he allow me to taste it for some time and just when I started to take a liking for the same, the surge of all the wrong things took it away from me leaving me at loss. Although I really don’t have any solid reason to feel like an outcast but at times I am left maroon.

It was closing to 9.30 in the night a hearse was pulling in with a survillent fog light atop which showed the corpse its final direction. The road ahead of the hearse was empty but still it was crawling down probably to honor his last wish to show him around the finest state –of-the-art facades. His receding hairline fostered all the wrinkles on his broad temple; he would be somewhere around sixty-five and sported a rugged look with beard like spikes on the final day. Rapped with the quintessential white sheet leaving his feet all cracked on the heels. Two wilted white circular garland resting on his flat chest, the smoke of the Bidi, which the helper sitting next to the driver was smoking was making up for the scented agarbati, which I missed out (Or it was never seen in the first place). Prodigal use of parched paddy was missing; the countenance, which my eyes captured, said that; while breathing out his last breath he was unable to keep it simple, his mind was shuttling between agony and too much of ecstasy. Apparently, it appeared to me that the corpse, which used to be a full fledged man even some time back couldn’t build any relationship on his own apart from whatever was bestowed upon him (and today most of his blood relations’ have alienated themselves; if there is any). He failed to restrict the agony of an outcast from surfacing on his face, which was showcased to the city on his final journey.

Few more hours to go, then like the soul his body will also be set free from all the parochial misery and sufferings. (And I see this to be a very evident point which bought that clandestine smirk on his face which was never that easy to decipher for me). My inquisitive eyes stalked the hearse for some time and scanned the surroundings, which showed no trace of acquaintance in account to the body. No sobbed face around to bid him good-bye for one last time or they have already done so when he was still living his mortal life. Just when the hearse was completely out of my sight, I could realize the ebb of grief plummeting my craving and loneliness.( I am utterly blessed with such lovely parents and have also earned some love and trust from people with whom I don’t share any blood relations’ just with mere ordinary acts).

While screening the posh cars in the parking lot of the Grand Calcutta Club I only wished him, a peaceful pyre coupled with a vivacious and complete life ahead. (Probably I am not lucky like the others but undoubtedly better off than him)

WHITE CLEAVAGE

From time immemorial, we are obsessed with ‘white skin’; no, i am not talking about the ‘yellow skin’, which we have in, copious in this country. It is the ‘white skin’ which compels us to give them majestic treatment no matter what it takes away from us. Barring few isolated characters’ that don’t bother being defiant and see any difference in colours; but the rest always take refuge under the shade of camouflage to hide their unrefined traits. A white recognition has no parallels; the longing at times becomes so relentless that we fail to understand the difference between a harsh white scorn delivered with smirk and a genuine appreciation. At indigenous forums often, we speak with lots of gusto and make tall promises to debunk the myth of ‘white superiority’ but it just takes one such white to make us look dwarf.

I whole heartedly endorse the fact that we are no less than them and should cease bragging for them; but then the omnipotent impact of ‘white skin’ don’t even spare me at times. When I say impact be ready for a lengthy list; their art, music, games, cuisine, fashion, food habit, relationships, family, pattern to show affection, style of business, rejoice, ................................and i leave it over here for you to add some. Blaming only our colonial history for the impacts (good or bad indifferent) would be prejudice because there are instances of borrowing examples from them in order to transit from darkness to light. In Kolkata every alternate day the political protocols are getting stampede under the huge reserve of latent transitional energy; some have already started rating this city among the cosmopolitans. Now i would like to tell you a story where i play the protagonist; yes actually i was getting restless and now its high time to bring in as the prologue is all set to carry a third world country bewilder mouse who is struck between dark and light.

I spotted this unlikely couple facing the white Victoria Memorial Palace busy discussing issues beyond architectural brilliance. She was accompanied by a local boy but later in this anecdote you will see that he is not a localite like me; the only reason behind this odd twosome. I just couldn’t wait to interrupt the local guy; so i almost air dropped with my friend who was on a outing for photography; he being a student of film gave me an articulate pretext to start off with no hesitation; after all now Indian films have got good share in the oversees market thus it is quite evident that they will have some reverence for the budding film makers of this country. They never expected us in the middle of their could be serious conversation; I almost caught the boy gaping at me; it was like bumping into a honeymoon suite having ‘Do not disturb’ tag on the door. The Phirang girl was wearing a deep neck cut blue top through which her weary boobs peeped at me; the valley studded with brown spots, there was no stretch marks like the most home-grown pieces. Both of them denied lending their faces for the digital Cannon, so we clicked them from the back. The girl was quite plum from her butt; it was not a low waist but as she leaned forward a white streak of skin-popped out. While my friend got busy adjusting, the light and the angle i kept ogling at her through trivia discussion; she was from Denmark and was on vacation with her live in NRI boyfriend; remember i told you he was not a localite like me. I voluntarily squatted relinquishing the atop view of the line on her left breast which separated her original skin colour from the tanned. She was on my left and the NRI was on her left; so i, despite being a NRI had a PHIRAG so close to my side. I am not upmarket disco hopper; its not that i don’t want to be one but right now i can’t afford to be one; thus her outrageous outfit should have riveted my eyeballs on the white valley which was scantly covered by a cup shaped black piece of cloth; because a localite like me who can count in hand the number of times he has been to those posh liquor joints where drunk women don’t mind having anonymous sidekick for some time or for that matter for a night.

She was no ordinary girl; she was a Gori and i might not get another chance with someone like her in my entire life or lucky by chance, even if i get will i have an apt alibi like this then? Therefore, instead of capturing those libido enriching live footages, which i could have used for eternal satisfaction later; i concentrated on the discussion, as I wanted the city to witness one of the signs of my transition.

Don’t. I mean to say don’t you dare to call me a impotent; because last time i dragged down my then girlfriend’s Kammez immediately after i was teased by that yellow cleavage and trust me it drove me more excited than the white. Being an integral part of a Bengali character, it had all the fostered and occult characteristics of not so vociferous Bengal; it didn’t flaunt overt desire consciously but found it tough to keep it subdued ; it panted with every touch and like a king who always gives in his best to save the throne during foreign aggression it also took some feeble preventive steps knowing the inevitable to guard the brown crown. At times, procrastination is not that bad it allows you to strengthen you beak for the final dig.

So you want to know what i did with that yellow stuff.....aren’t you a thinking and imanagetive person? Did I here yes? Ok then unleash you imagination.

Often i visit those posh sophisticated malls to bask under the intense white lights, do loads of window-shopping and remain updated with the latest trends and collection but when it comes to do some real buying it has to be one of those stores, which offers true value of my money. So if you are planning for a transition, let me tell that you will have tryst with hollow promises in this path which you are not supposed to ignore but more importantly you need to extract true value and you know how to get that.

Paradox of Promotion

Economic turbulence has wrenched companies across the globe. The aftermaths are widespread like retrenchment, layoff, forced sabbatical, shut down of operations, reduction in salary and the list is not exhausted. There are few significant evidence we come across in the city which clearly endorses the fact that our companies are in bad shape. The hoardings spread all over the city are turning grey; no it’s not a new marketing gimmick, in the last few months number of companies which also includes some titans have surrendered their much coveted sites for breather.

Just sometime back gazing at those creative works while waiting at the signal was an activity which plummeted to our fury for unruly traffic. Some were so imaginative that we expected the same at the next crossing to decode the exact content of it. Now those blank gigantic spaces with contact numbers of the respective ad agencies doesn’t stand out to be apt substitute for those loud and enigmatic characters’. Road shows, promotional events, free passes/coupons, vehicles’ patrolling with advertisement boards all have gone for hibernation. If you notice and observe now you get less leaflets with exiting opportunity to earn more, professional course at a price like never before in any ‘C’ grade institute, loose five kgs in two days or impotency is no more a problem. The corporate picture of branding and promotional activities is getting bleaker day by day but there is a sect of direct sales professionals who are more popular as ‘hawker’ and they are still sticking to their not so sophisticated modes of promotions.

The other day it struck me in the bus. If you are a regular commuter of bus or local train then you must have seen it happening under your nose; he was selling digestive pills and dust (a preparation of multiple ingredients which revitalizes your taste bud). Being a normal sight I did not pay much importance to his performance. He approached me with an unfasten packet and asked me with his gesture to spread my palm and taste his product; I didn’t oblige him and at the blink of an eye he made a move to the passenger at the back. There were quite a number of passengers who were chewing with complete indifference and showed no indication of loving it. The hawker got down at the next stop and his sales figure was a big ZERO; questions like does the man (hawker) have his AOP(Annual operation plan ) in the first place, does he maintain a daily sales report, how does he plan his promotional budget in this awful market situation, does he have any exclusive strategy on board for his target customers inundated my mind in a endeavour to understand how could he manage such a prodigal style of promotion and awareness.

One can’t draw any comprasrism between these two polarized forms of business; but on contemplating on the given situation you would easily end up uttering PARADOX. Isn’t it?