Right Boss

Right boss

………

I knocked on the door of the chamber.

“Come in” I could hear Mr.Hajela calling out.

“Were you searching for me?” I asked with curiosity as I had just joined duty after spending 15 days of leave with my parents in Delhi.

“Bolt the door, I don’t want anyone to enter now.”

I was a bit apprehensive but as commanded I bolted the door from inside and sat down in front of his desk.

He opened his drawer, took out my leave application and said, “I have not sent this to the personal department yet. You said you don’t have enough leave so a part will be without pay.”

“Yes sir,” I said.

Then he did a surprising thing which I remember still to this date. He just tore off my application and said, “Now you have your leave and no pay cut.”

I became emotional by his that gesture and got up to shake his hand.

He said “I know I have called you in the dead of night to attend emergency in the plant and every time you have come willingly even leaving club parties. This is your reward, but then you know you have many types of friends so don’t share this with anyone.”

I thanked him profusely with tears in my eyes.

“Now go concentrate in your work.”

That was Mr.Hajela Deputy Chief in Electrical maintenance and my boss in Barauni Refinery, IOC. That action of his on that day made me more loyal to him. He was a flamboyant character and loved clubbing. In the club bar we were like friends, the barrier of boss and subordinate was breached there.

Coking unit was one of the vital plants of the refinery and I was responsible for electrical maintenance of that unit. I was often called in the night to attend failure of some circuit or of some drive motor. Due to some reason if I was not able to restore the fault quickly then I would find Mr.Hajela standing behind me to give moral support.

During office hours he would come by his official jeep and then would hand over it for our use. Kedar Singh, the driver will come to report to me with his log book. It was Kedar Singh who would pick me up from my quarter or from officer’s club in the night for attending emergency break downs.

I was confident that Mr.Hajela was there behind me always, a kind of blind faith. That faith gave me confidence to assure my technicians of me being there for their difficult times. That faith worked like magic, I could get their unadulterated loyalty.

For the sake of overtime payment often workers would delay the repair and put the plant on the edge. In such cases my pet rigger Tarachand would bargain with the workers on my behalf for completing the work as early as possible and he would make sure they get overtime of 5 hours for that day. This formula worked always, I could enter into such unholy nexus for the sake of completion of work because I had the blessings of Mr.Hajela. It was win win situation for both workers as well as for the organization.

On looking back I realize that much of my human engineering skill I learnt from him which I honed further by my diverse experience.

As I started climbing the corporate ladder in IOC and BHEL all those skill learnt in IOC,Barauni Refinery came handy.

The basic takeaway from Mr.Hajela was that the subordinate should feel that there is someone who looks after his interest. The boss is always there to help him with resources in work, in his difficult times, and makes sure that he gets his due appreciation.  I made it my job to align aspirations of my people with the goal of the organization. Finally it is the teamwork which produces the desired results. In short it is the empathy towards people which always gives rich dividend. The final result is mutual trust between boss and the subordinate.

I believe initial character building of an individual takes place by observing his parents and then comes teachers. Down the line somewhere friends play important role but the most important role in work life is played by the first boss. I was lucky that I could get Mr.Hajela as my first boss.

Many years later when I was heading BHEL,Eastern Region Mr.Hajela came to meet me , by that time he had retired as Director of HSCL and joined a private organization.

He was happy to see me in that position and I readily admitted to him that it was him who was responsible for my initiation in handling people and which had helped me to ascend.

Arabian nights

………………….

Arabian nights

I was always fascinated by the 1001 stories of Arabian Nights.

The story goes that Shahryar  found out one day that his first wife was unfaithful to him. Therefore, he resolved to marry a new virgin each day as well as behead the previous day's wife, so that she would have no chance to be unfaithful to him. He had killed 1,000 such women by  the time he was introduced to Scheherazade, the vazier's daughter ,the Scheherazade had perused the books, annals and legends of preceding Kings, and the stories, examples and instances of bygone men and things.

Against her father's wishes, Scheherazade volunteered to spend one night with the king. Once in the king's chambers, Scheherazade asked if she might bid one last farewell to her beloved sister, Dunyazade who had secretly been prepared to ask Scheherazade to tell a story during the long night. The king lay awake and listened with awe as Scheherazade told her first story. The night passed by, and Scheherazade stopped in the middle of the story. The king asked her to finish, but Scheherazade said there was no time, as dawn was breaking. So, the king spared her life for one day to finish the story the next night. The next night, Scheherazade finished the story and then began a second, ….thus goes on….but as the legends suggest all the stories are not written by the same author….for example Alaadin and the Wonderful lamp was added by a French translator  Antoine Galland who heard it from a Syrian story teller in 18^th century…similarly the other stories started getting included to make the number to 1001..

That second Saturday with mindful of Arabian Night I went for my usual hunt for pirated DVDs in Gariahat. I have some targeted DVD shops where I browse through the stacks. Once in a while I come across a dwarfish looking bearded hawker in a colorful gown with a funny cap selling a few DVDs but somehow no one bothers to go to him, he too does not make the usual noises to attract customer.  Yes he was there on that day and gave me a strange look.

“Looking for Arabian Night movies?” He threw those words from the corner of his mouth like a ventriloquist.

I frowned at him and walked towards his wares.

“Are you a genie out of the magic lamp or what?” Teasingly I said.

“More or less!” He shrugged in his that colorful gown.

He pulled out a frayed book and asked me to have a look. The book was;

 THE BOOK OF THE THOUSAND NIGHTS AND A NIGHT

A Plain and Literal Translation

of the Arabian Nights Entertainments

by Richard F. Burton

It was the original 1889 publication and would be counted as antique. I was nervous because it could be a stolen one.

“You take a look at the book and take this DVD.”

“What is so special about this DVD?”

“This DVD will tell you the story from the book. You put the DVD in the player and play. An empty space will appear where you put your date of birth in 4 digits with date and month in that order. It is password protected.”

“How do you know my date of birth?”

“I don’t but as per your date of birth it will scan a story for you matching with your star and the number worked out using numerology from your date of birth.”

“All the 1001 stories are there in this single DVD?”

“No, but the like The Arabian Night you have to listen to the stories till the end of the DVD, it may take whole night.”

“What about the book?”

“Oh that is like a family loom passed on through generation to me. We are from erstwhile East Bengal and my forefathers were sailors. This book was gifted by a Turkish Sheikh to one of my ancestor.Just to get your attention i showed this book to you.” He carefully took the book back from me and put it in the leather bag lying by his side.

I purchased the DVD by paying him double the cost of what I actually pay to others.

On Saturdays I watch DVD in the night after dinner, my wife goes to sleep early.

It was 10 o’clock in the night I inserted the disc in the player and sat on my usual sofa with two remotes in hand. My wife had already gone to bed, I half closed the bedroom door and reduced the volume of TV.

I started playing the DVD, as told the empty window appeared, I put my date of birth with month and pushed “Enter” on the DVD remote.

On the screen the scenes from Middle East country side appeared with suiting Middle East music. There were sandy dunes, mud houses,souques. Alaadin and the Wonderful Lamp was the random pick by the system. I got engrossed in the movie till Alaadin has retrieved the lamp from the cave for the crooked khalifa, then Khalifa cheats him by taking away the lamp. The story was slowly building up till Alaadin takes back the lamp from the khalifa and gives it to his mother. His mother looked at the lamp and thought that she can get good money by selling the lamp so she starts rubbing the lamp to clean. Suddenly the room gets filled with cloud and the genie comes out of the spout of the lamp.

I was taken aback to see that the genie was the same person from whom I had purchased the DVD. I started feeling as though I am in the same place with Alaadin, his mother and the genie. That man who is genie now holds my hand and says “Are you ready for Arabian Night Stories?.”

I was flummoxed by this turn of event, I was in a trance like state and hesitantly said,” Yes.”

“Ok, come with us.” He held my hand and pulled me towards the TV screen.

“Wait, let me leave a note for my wife.” I told the genie.

Dearest Anima,
I have written it down for you to know that I am going for a long voyage of Arabian Nights. In case I don’t return then contact Pratul, he would know what action to take.Don't worry will come back after the voyage.
Yours,

Kaushik

I was sitting in my drawing room when Pratul showed me the letter with the amazing story.

“Kaushik is missing for the last one week, his wife contacted me and gave this letter.”
I read the story. I tried to imagine the scene. There Kaushik was on his sofa when suddenly the genie, a dwarf comes out of the TV screens and takes him along and vanishes in the screen. Somewhat like Harry Potter story of improbable. Kaushik getting transformed into a character of Arabian Night and evaporates.I thought to myself ,"Did he go out by himself?"

So i asked,“What about the outer door? Was that open, it could be a prank.” 

“The mortice look was in place, the collapsible gate was locked from inside.”

“You mean he just evaporated like camphor. Have you tried to find out the hawker at Gariahat.” I asked.

“Yes for the last one week I am spending four to five hours there in search of that colorful dwarf with no result.” He said with defeat in his voice.

Kaushik is mutual friend of me and Pratul. I knew Kaushik was a bit disturbed for sometimes after his retirement also knew he was fond of watching English movies.

“His wife has informed police and their daughter.”

I could not reconcile with the story that he walked inside the TV, it so surreal that I started getting goose bumps thinking about it.I too went to Gariahat and inquired about that colorful dwarf from the DVD hawkers. None of them had ever seen that fellow.

After a fortnight or so I got a letter through regular post.

It was from Kaushik.

Dear samar,

Pratul must have met you and showed you the letter which I left for Anima. Don't worry I am fine. Whatever you read about genie is the result of my grey cells, i tried my hand in writing a story. How did you like that? Nothing like that has happened. That night when I could hear Anima’s snore then I picked up my bag which was already packed, changed my dress and took the money bag with my debit cards. Opened the door unlocked the lock on the collapsible gate. Again I put the lock with my duplicate key by putting my hands through the grills and then pull the inner door and heard the click sound of mortice lock.

I just want to be alone for sometimes will visit some remote places in hills as you know I love nature. My request to you is not to let out the secret but give hope to Pratul and Anima that I will be back some day. There is enough money in the bank for Anima and also my monthly pension will be deposited in our joint account.

I will keep you informed time to time but don’t try to locate me by using your usual detecting skill.

Yours.

Kaushik

Kaushik has retired a few years back. He often would tell me that he was struggling to put his life on rail. I knew that his restless mind was trying to figure out an alternate fruitful life. I also knew Kaushik loves travelling and his wife is a reluctant traveler. Kaushik must be trying to live a bohemian life for a change. I am pretty sure that he will come back.

I let out a sigh of relief and started framing a convincing story for Pratul and Anima.

Baptism by fire

Baptism by fire

………………………………………

It was a taut game, points going neck to neck.

From the left corner of the net I flicked the shuttle over the net to the back court of our opponent, Harnal who was covering back a 6ft towering personality smashed it and the shuttle fell just outside the court. I shouted out but Harnal had already moved to the other half of the court taking it granted for a point scored. I looked up at some of the spectators standing by the side of court for their judgment but they all looked at Harnal who was glaring at them, they meekly said ,”The shuttle fell on the line.”

I was not satisfied but my partner Gandhi accepted it to be out. Thus the game went on with Harnal and Marwah winning that game.

 It was every evening scene in Gauhati Refinery Officer’s club of IOC. Mr.Harnal the second most powerful man of the refinery was a badminton fanatic, Marwah was his permanent partner with me and Gandhi as his opponent. The best court was reserved for us and we would get the new shuttles. Sometimes the feather of the Aeroflight shuttle would get frayed then Harnal would shout for new shuttle and we too would join in the shout when PRS our club secretary and Executive Engineer of Electrical department would run inside for shuttle cursing us.  Marwah, Gandhi and me were just Engineer Trainee, the start of our career. All the officers were scared of Harnal, he would pick us up from our hostel for the game every day. The towering figure of Harnal would enter the club like a general with his racquet held as rifle and we would follow him with lot of swagger. Any officer or their wives playing in our court would immediately vacate, PRS would be waiting with new shuttles. PRS would make sure that flood lights were properly aligned with all bulbs burning. He would often request us to save him from the wrath of Harnal. Our playing badminton game every day was a daily humiliation for PRS which we never realized , for us it was still an extension of our college life, staying in hostel with common mess and no direct duty assigned during training period.

But then fortune took a turn fort worst for me. Harnal was transferred to Barauni refinery and Marwah who was  senior to us got confirmed when Harnal was still there and managed a general shift  posting in testing department courtesy Harnal. Gandhi was selected for short service commission in Army so I was left behind. PRS got promoted as DyChief looking after electrical maintenance and power station. I was undergoing specialized training in power station and another 4 months or so was left. PRS was holding a grudge against us because of all those humiliation he underwent in the club. I was the only one got caught in his firing line. He knew that the club was the life line for us bachelors. I was a duly elected club committee member and would be active  in organizing various activities of the club.  He wanted to clip my wings by putting me in shift duties in the power house immediately after his taking over charge which would give him sadistic pleasure of my not able to attend the club regularly. Our protector Harnal was not there, he was succeeded by one Kaushal to whom PRS was reporting. That guy Kaushal was not much clubbing type and I did not know him well because I was pretty low in the hierarchical order.

Duly PRS took out an order for me to go in shift of one Jaiswal and who would come out in general shift. For me going in shift meant missing club most of the days, it would have been a punishment for me as i explained. As I had not completed my training period yet so some of my seniors from production department advised me to write a letter for early regularization to Assistant Engineer (that was the designation those days) as I had been asked to take full charge. I wrote such letter to Mr.Kaushal with a copy to training officer, did not mark any copy to PRS. I was lucky that i had lot of well wishers due to my taking part in football, badminton and club activities.

 On the given day I was walking towards the refinery in general shift when PRS who was passing me in his jeep stopped and asked, “How come you are coming in general shift? You go back and come in evening shift.” 
With a deadpan face I said, “ What shift? I am still a trainee so cannot take charge.”

“How dare you challenge my order? You are still a trainee! I will make sure that you go to shift today.” Fuming he drove off.

That incidence of my defying PRS became a talking point of the refinery. My friends and fellow football players got worried about my future, I was cool.

A big meeting took place in Kaushal’s office with PRS , Executive Engineer Power Station and Executive Engineer Training to decide about my fate. Later on I heard that one question from the Executive Engineer Power plant decided the issue.

It was Mr.H C Goswami an Assamese gentleman who was power plant incharge said,” He is still a trainee. Who will be responsible if any accident takes place in his shift? I know for a fact he had unofficially handled shift many times to help the shift engineers  those who wanted to go for some urgent business but this is a regular shift duty.”

Finally it was decided that I could not be put in shift as the training period was not over. Those days the training periods were sacrosanct and no one of the local management could fiddle with it. The corporate office in Delhi used to send posting order after completion of training period.

By the time I completed my training period the order came from Delhi  for my transfer to Barauni refinery, PRS could not have his revenge of putting me in shift.

The above incident was my introduction to the real world of dog eat dog meat, the shark tank !

Dadhichi's bone

Dadhichi’s bone

……………………..

                           My magic

Bhuban often visits my house, knows about my latest hobby of performing magic and posting those in YouTube. He is one of my side kicks who arranges knick knack for magic tricks.

The other day he narrated his experience with magic.

 You know that day from your house I straight went to Howrah station to catch a local train to Guskara. I got a train after waiting for half an hour, the train started and all kind of hawkers started selling their wares. After a few stations a boy got up and started showing magic, I remembered about you. He showed a vanishing trick, the passengers happily gave him money for providing entertainment; I too gave him a rupee. I stuck friendship with him; his name was Dilip .I started enquiring.

“Who taught you the magic?”

“My guruji , he lives in my village.”

“Where is your village?”

“Next station is my stop, my village is about 3 kms from the station.”

It was afternoon time and I had time to spare so I thought why not go with that boy and meet his Guru. I was thinking about you and your hobby of magic. Thought can get some magic related idea from that Guru of his.

“Can I come with you to meet your Guru? Will he be there?”

Dilip said,” Yes, you can come but be ready to travel by cycle van. There is no bus service.”

We got down at the next station, walked out. It is a small town, we took a van rickshaw for his village . After a kilometer the rickshaw came down from the metaled road to a muddy road leading to his village. It took us about 40 minutes to reach the village.

I paid for the rickshaw, taking the dirt road we walked in the quint village. There were thatched roof houses, trees and ponds. I did not see any people or animals in the village. It looked like a picture post card village without any life, it was eerie.  Within five minutes we reached a brick house with a small garden in the front. Dilip opened the wicket gate and invited to come with him. I followed him to the back of the house. A gentleman in white dhoti and kurta was reclining on an easy chair with a book. Dilip coughed to indicate his presence; the gentleman smiled at him and looked questioningly towards me.

“Guruji, here is Bhubanda ,he wants to meet you. He is from Guskara.”

“Please come and sit here.” He gestured towards a vacant space on the running verandah. Smilingly he produced a guava from the air and offered me to eat.

“Why do you want to meet me?”

I was impressed by the guava trick and so enthusiastically told him “Dilip’s magic attracted me to you. I am quite impressed that you could train him so well that he can confidently show magic at this tender age. That too bang in the midst of passengers, without any stage to prepare for the tricks.”

Guruji smiled and said, “Not only Dilip I have trained some more boys of the village. A few are performing regularly in functions.”

“That’s impressive!” admiringly I said.

“Guruji, show him the magical power of that bone of some rishi.” Dilip requested.

Guru raised his hand and started levitating, then produced a bone from the thin air, aimed it to a tree in the courtyard. I saw a flash and small explosion on the trunk of the tree. I was nonplussed by his levitation and the power of the bone.

“This is Dadhichi’s bone.” He said.

“You mean Dadhichi whose mention is there in Puran.”

“Yes the same Dadhichi. You may know his story but let me repeat it for the sake of Dilip. When Lord Indra was driven out of heaven by Vrutrasur then he went to Brahma, Vishnu and Maheshwar for help. He was advised by Vishnu to make Vajrashtra with the bones of Dadhichi. So Indra went with devas to Dadhichi on earth and requested him to donate his bones to make Vajrashtra so that the same can be used against Asura. Incidentally this Asura was a Brahmin who turned against Devas. Dadhichi did the ultimate sacrifice by dying and donating his bones for making weapons. Indra and devas won the war by using the Vajrashtra made by Dadhichi’s bone. ” He held up the bone lovingly.

I was skeptical; I did not believe the story but had watched the power.

“This sounds a bit far fetched.” I said.

“This bone has great power, I got it from a Rishi. It has destructive power. I generally don’t show this to anyone but you came with my favorite disciple so showed you. "Guru went on outwardly unflapped by my remark.

Then I thought if I can get that bone for you then you will have one more trick in your bag.

“Is this the only one you have or you have some more, may be a small piece?”

“I may have a small one but have to perform some puja to activate it.”

I requested him to keep one ready for me.

“Ok,you come next full moon day, I will keep one ready for you ,of course for a price.”

Bhuban looked at me for my approval for that venture of getting the bone of Dadhichi from that Guru in some unknown village.

I said, “Ok”

After a fortnight Bhuban came to me with a crestfallen face. I immediately knew that he has failed in his mission but allowed him to say.

Yesterday I took a train to that station, as Dilip was not there so I went alone by taking a cycle van like last time. I took the same dirt road but could not find the village. Surprisingly the villages I came across were all having small brick and mortar houses made by the government. That quaint village with trees and ponds has just vanished.

I consoled him, “Don’t worry. Next time when you come across Dilip then go with him.”

Bhuban couldn’t meet Dilip so far though he took almost all the local trains going towards that direction, the other hawker boys too could not recall Dilip. But Bhuban still sometimes gets down at that station and goes by cycle van in search of that illusive village.

                                    Magic by Dilip in the train

Zila Begusarai

Zila Begusarai

…………………….

He was royally sitting inside , a policeman conversing with him with lot of respect. That was sometimes around 1972 or so when Begusarai became a district by carving out of Munger. If there is any district record of sports then it will be found that I was the captain of the first district football team. We just finished one of our football outing when I was informed that one of our player Gopal Prasad Singh who was also operator in Barauni Refinery had been jailed. I knew that he was on the run when his truck carrying ganja was caught near Nashik.

I am talking about Gopal whom we had gone to meet in the Begusarai jail. That was the time when notorious smuggler Kamdeo Singh was uncrowned king of ganja smugglers , ganja was grown in Nepal so it was cross border smuggling. Gopal was a good footballer and was representing both refinery and district. Officially he was an operator in Barauni Refinery of IOC.

I was surprised to find that he was getting lot of respects from the constables though he was behind the bar.He was not in his jail dress,with his fair skin and sturdy built he was looking like a Zamindar even though he was behind the bar. Seeing us he shouted an obscenity at the constable and said in a rough tone, “ Go bring tea and samosa for my guests!”

Then he smiled at us unruffled by his status of a prisoner , said to me “ Arey Roydada, how are you?”

“ I am fine but what is all this about ganja and all I hear?”

“Who kuch nahi, sab theek ho jayega. What was the score?”

“We won.” Someone informed.

In the meanwhile the constable of the jail brought tea and samosa for us.

We spent sometimes with him and then I rode back to my quarter on my scooter. Those days Begusarai area was a stronghold of CPI , most of the landed property was with Bhumihars. Gopal was a Bhumihar so had that upper hand in the society.

The game of football was the bond between me and Gopal. I was captain of refinery team and would go out to play matches to various places , those outings brought me close to many of the players , somehow Gopal's wayward character attracted me more to him. My flat was near the refinery bus stop from where official buses would start for shift duties. Often Gopal would be late and miss the schedule bus then he would take my scooter to duty. I never had the inkling about his smuggling activities. Once during a football match in Barauni town Gopal had a rough tackle with a Barauni player with whom he had past enmity.  Immediately Gopal was surrounded by the supporters of  the Barauni team who were furious but before they could do any harm to him two characters appeared from nowhere with revolvers and asked the Barauni supporters to back off. I was unnerved by the sight of gun, I looked angrily at Gopal.

He shrugged,” These are my bodyguards; I was ready for something like this.”

After that skirmish the match was abandoned.

After his arrest and conviction, Gopal was terminated from the job.

My last meeting with Gopal was in Quality Dresses , Begusarai which was owned by our friend Harishankar Maskara. I had gone to that shop  just for to chat, I was still a bachelor then. Suddenly Harshankar gave a shout and said,” Look who is here?’

I turned and found Gopal entering the shop. He was neatly dressed, had a look of a businessman. Seeing me he gave a big smile. Harshankar whispered to me,” Now he is a full time smuggler.”

“Hello Roydada.” We shook hand.

“You know Gopal got married again.” Harishankar said.

“Arey yaar, why suddenly?” I said.

“ Now I have to move in higher society so married an educated smart girl.” He smiled mischievously.

“what about your wife in village?” I said.

That rascal said, “ Dada you marry her.” And guffawed .

“Bloody hell, you have not changed even though wearing all gentleman like dress.” I admonished him.

Well that was my  last meeting with Gopal.

Begusarai is very much in news now a days because of Kanhaiya Kumar who is from Bihata village of Begusarai district....Begusarai had been a notorious place then in seventies because of all kinds of illegal activities. it was a strong hold of CPI and from the reports i find Bihata is called mini Moscow...
It is not surprising that  a gangster like Gopal  can not do mundane duty of an operator or like Kanhiya study and fight against the system...third alternative is be law abiding and surrender to the system...

Woes of a research scholar

Woes of a research scholar

…………………………………

I was engrossed in reading a thriller when I heard someone calling my name. I looked up from my corner desk.

It was KG who was 2 years senior to me in IIT , a popular debater of our college was calling me , he too was in the same establishment.

I got up to the door when he asked me to bring the book along. I innocently picked up the thriller and walked out in the corridor to meet him. I was caught red handed, that rascal was waiting with juniors of IIT, Kharagpur who had come on study tour to National Physical Laboratory in Pusa,New  Delhi.

“Look what a Senior Research fellow does in NPL! Meet Samar.”

There was all round ribbing among us.

After passing out in 1965 from IIT, Kharagpur thought we would get job immediately but unfortunately that did not happen though some of our friends got offer while in the college.  There was no campus interviews those days. Our friend Sanjay Majumdar’s father had a steel plant in Durgapur and he arranged job for some of the friends there.

Me and Bhaskar would walk the corridors of Connaught Place every day  in search of job and close the day with coffee in Coffee House by the side of Regal cinema. 1964,65,66 were the recession years in India, graduate engineers were either underemployed or unemployed. Every day I would scan the paper for job and apply. There was an offer from Atlas cycle but because of bond did not take. Then in frustration applied against an ad for Senior Research Fellow  in CSIR( because we did 5 years after HS so was eligible along with MScs). I was interviewed by Dr.Zaheer, DG ,CSIR. He offered me Senior Research fellow in any of the regional laboratories in India.  I wanted to stay in Delhi with my parents so it was NPL, JNU was not there then . Thus my research job with a princely sum of Rs 400 per month started. Yesterday I heard someone saying in TV channel debate that they get a measly some of 32,000 as research scholarship.

I must admit that because I was not getting job anywhere so joined as research scholar. It was a stop gap arrangement for me. In the meanwhile I was in the lookout of a proper job of engineer. I spent about 3 months as a scholar without starting a project, I was helping the laboratory in carrying out standard tests. I was using the well stacked library of the establishment to keep myself abreast with the latest development in electrical engineering and of course there would always be a light book as time filler like that day when KG called me.

Finally I competed in All India competition for engineer trainee in IOC and was posted in Gauhati Refinery to start my one and half years training stint at a princely sum of 350 rupees as stipend.

I am sure majority of those so called scholars are those who could not get a suitable job or could not compete in All India competitions and went on remaining in campuses on scholarship for doing some sort of research; certainly most of them are not brilliant scholars or toppers of the universities.

I remember I had accompanied my friend Virendra Kumar to Kalayani  sometimes in 1998 or so for the inauguration of Solar heater supplied for drying of milk to produce milk powder in NDR, every alternate person was a doctorate there. I remember Budhadev Bhattacharya ,Chief Minister of West Bengal once commented about the galaxy of doctorates of not doing enough to increase the agricultural productivity in West Bengal but only adding degrees to their names.
My association with CSIR took a full circle, i was a council member  of Regional Research Laboratory ,Bhopal an appointment made by GOI during my Bhopal days from 2000 to 2003.I was in the selection committee of scientists in the laboratory.Took part in selecting bright candidates who wanted to come back from abroad and serve India.By virtue of that association i came in contact with many scientists who were working activly in adivasi villages on projects to find alternate occupation for them in their villages so that they don't have to migrate out to cities in search of job. They had developed systems of keeping storing area cool by using sun and air, a kind of natural refrigeration. Yes those scholars worked for the downtrodden.They were contributing positively to uplift the society and i made it a point to visit that laboratory as often as possible to know more. From BHEL,Bhopal we had taken help of the Laboratory to resolve knotty technical problems.
To conclude i started my career as a Research scholar and retired by associating myself with real productive researchers.

 

Patriot duty

Patriot duty

……………………..

I was wrong in assuming that after doing compulsory NCC during IIT days there would be no more regimental training, but a surprise was waiting for me in Indian Oil, Guwahati Refinery where I joined as Engineer Trainee in 1965.

It was the time when skirmishes with Pakistan in Kashmir border escalated to a full scale 17 days war in September, 1965. The management was instructed to tighten security in the township and the refinery because the East Pakistan border was very close by, Bangladesh was yet to form.

One night while we were in the officers club heard air raid siren blowing and all the lights were switched off . Pak planes on reconnaissance were  flying over our refinery and Indian antiaircraft guns located on two hillocks by the side of refinery started firing at those. Heavy armored vehicles, tanks  and trucks carrying soldiers moving was a common sight those days. Next to refinery was the Narangi military camp and so the movement. The situation was tense in and around the refinery; trenches were dug in the refinery and  the township. Every day we had to undergo civil defense drill of diving in the trenches whenever siren was blown, yes air raid sirens were put at strategic locations in the refinery, township and the market place.

All the trainees were selected to undergo training for home guard. So NCC like training by the army personnel started for us. It was regular workout, march past and finally rifle shooting in the army range. We were pressed in duty of guarding the township during the night.  We would work in the refinery in the day  and guard the township in the night.  Mr. Chowdhury was a confirmed bachelor; he offered his flat to be our night camp. At any given time as per regulation two of us would be moving together. A danda and a torch were our tools to defend. I guess at that time of history those were sufficient to handle any suspicious movement, Pathankot type attack was unheard of.

Nothing exceptional happened during that one month of guard duty excepting for one night.

I and my friend Mitra were walking towards the market from our sector 2 township on that fateful night; we had to cross a jungle. We heard some suspicious sound from the shrub, we got ready with our danda .

“Yes, there is movement.” Mitra said.

“Watch there are two shinning things in the shrub.” I said.

It was a moonless night, we debated whether we should further investigate by going around the shrub.

Both mustered enough courage to move further in, there was distinct sound of movement in the shrub.

“Come out, whoever is there!” We shouted.

No response….we cautiously walked deeper in the shrub with baited breath, it was dark and two shinning eyes stared back at us.

We spread the shrub, walked forward, to our amusement and relief found an innocent cow looking back at us.

We shared our that experience with our comrades and soon it became folklore of the refinery. The ceasefire was declared in September, 1965 and a peace treaty known as Tashkent Declaration was signed by the initiative of USA and Soviet Russia in January, 1966.

Our war time special duty ended without any other major incident.

 

Snore Signal

I Know That I Snore, It Is Proven ( Real Incidence)

I woke up with a start in the dead of the night, felt as though someone was there in my bed room. The room was semi dark with the moon light filtering in through the skylight. I was not fully awake but the sensation of someone there in the bedroom was playing in my mind and I fell asleep again.

I got up in the morning and freshened up. As my wife was away to her parent’s house in Haldia, I was alone in my quarter. I prepared tea and breakfast.

This happened in Barauni refinery. The previous night I had slept late so got up late after that eerie experience of feeling someone was there in my bed room. As usual I opened the outer door and found the newspaper tucked on the outside handle of the door .

Indian newspaper of any region gives priority to political news unless otherwise some natural calamity had happened. Those were the days of Jayprakash Narain movement and Bihar was the hot bed. As TV was yet to come so it was left to newspaper or pan shop gossip to cater the latest news, people seldom believed government controlled radio.

I was busy reading newspaper in my drawing room when I heard some commotion outside the gate of my bungalow.

“Mr. Roy” someone called out my name.

I went out and saw there was a policeman with a sturdy guy handcuffed and lot of curious crowd around.

“Yes, what is this all about?” I enquired curiously.

“Sir, this thief tells that last night he entered your bed room through the skylight.”

I looked at the skylight of my bedroom; it was visible from the outside gate.

“No it is not possible for him to wriggle through the skylight and also nothing has been stolen from my house.”

Then I looked at the thief and asked, “When did you enter my bedroom?”

“In the midnight I entered your bed room through that skylight and went near your dressing table. You were in deep sleep. I took your money bag but suddenly I found that you have woken up so I dived below your bed with the money bag.”

“Then?”

“I waited for you to fall asleep; I left the money bag below your bed and went out of the skylight after sometimes.”

I remembered to have found my money bag below my bed that day but nothing was missing from that bag. Any way those days there was hardly anything important in my money bag like credit card, PAN card, club card etc which are integral part of my money bag now.

Then I realized that the strange feeling of last night as though someone else was there in the bed room was true. The unconscious mind must have registered a signal of alien body near me and that premonition woke me up.

I started getting goose pimples then. Keeping an outward cool I said to the police, “Where did you catch him?”

“After unsuccessful attempt in your house he went to Mr. Tandon’s house through the same skylight. His wife is away. Mr.Tandon found him opening the steel almirah with a screw driver. When challenged he hid himself in the bathroom. Then Mr. Tandon locked him in and shouted for help. Thus he was captured.”

“Well I have no charges to press against him as nothing is stolen,” I said absentmindedly to the police man. I was totally unnerved, thanked god that nothing serious had happened to me that night. I replayed the incidence in my mind. There I was in deep sleep and the thief stealthily entered my bed room through the skylight. He told that he put his head first through the bars of the skylight and then the rest of the body. He looked at me with the screw driver and all other instruments in his pocket. He might have chuckled to himself seeing me sleeping helplessly on the bed. He went to the dressing table looking for the key of the Godrej cupboard but he found my money bag on the dressing table. Suddenly he could feel me waking up with my eyes half closed. His nerve cracked, he dived below the bed with the money bag. I was slowly falling back to sleep and that thief was waiting below my bed; he might be lying on his back. Me slowly falling in sleep and he widely awake waiting below the bed for me to fall in sleep. How did he know I fell in sleep, I guess he must have heard me snoring. Well that is it. When he was near the dressing table then he got the signal that I was awake because my snoring stopped. The sound of my snoring has been used as signal by that rascal to plan his actions.

The above incidence conclusively proved that I do snore but friends I keep on contesting this fact whenever my wife points this out to me...so please keep this secret between you and me..cheers

The trip

                              Me and my brother in Kullu valley

The trip

……………..

We were coming out of gate number of 2 of Vishwanath temple of Varanasi through the narrow lane towards Godhulia when I spotted Pyarelal going up the stairs of the popular Brown bread bakery. Here I must introduce Pyrelal, I met this colorful man on the way to Manali from Kulu in a dhaba. Me ,my brother Chandan and Verma had just visited a hydro plant and were having muli paratha lunch in that dhaba. 

                                  The Israeli in the dhaba

We noticed there were some foreigners in fatigue enjoying the typical Indian cuisine and one smart local fellow was with them. The foreigners left after lunch but that Indian guy stayed back. I was curious about the foreigners so I walked towards that Indian, he gave a welcoming smile and I sat down with him. He said his name was Pyarelal, I introduced myself.

“You people must be visitor here.” He said.

“yes, we came for some work.”

“I stay in Kulu but keep visiting Malana valley.”

“ You mean where there is hydro power plant?” I inquired.

“Yes, pretty near to that there is a valley where foreigners come for camping. I cater to their need of groceries.”

“ Why suddenly foreigners visit such an obscure valley?”

He smiled mysteriously and said,” High quality grass is grown there . Italian were first to arrive in the village in early 70s, in Malana,. In 70s cannabis was solely used for medicinal purpose for humans and as well as goats. Even the fibres of the plant was also used to make ropes and fabric, though Himalayan sadhus were the only one who knew the potential of this plant and smoked the intoxicant power to stimulate their consciousness. Italian when settled in camps near the valley soon discovered the potential of the plant, and the first who taught villagers to rub the plant and churn it into 10 times more potent hashish or charas. The rest of Malana story is legend, now producing the most expensive and powerful charas in the world. –“

It was news for me and beyond my imagination.

I got interested and asked about those foreigners who were with him.

“Oh! Those were Israelis who are actually controlling the drug trade in this area operating from Kasol.By the way Kasol is often called Mini Israel. But then because of cannabis hippies from all over the world come to this valley.You will be surprised to know that currencies of all first world countries are traded here. The trade is done in dollar term.”

I was totally flummoxed by that piece of information. He gave lots of information about the scenic valley with back packers camping there.

Thus I came in contact with Pyarelal.

                                   Brown Bread Bakery in Viswanath temple lane

I asked my wife to go back to hotel and followed Pyarelal to Brown Bread Bakery in that narrow lane. This bar is in the second floor. I spotted Pyarelal in a corner table  with some foreign tourists. Seeing me he gave a big smile and invited me to sit with his group. He spoke to them in some foreign language and introduced me. I said “Hello” to them.

“Which country do you guys belong?”

“We are from Spain.” In halting English one of them replied.

“ How come you are here? Is it do with cannabis or what?” I mischievously asked Pyarelal in Hindi.

“Yes, something like that.” He winked at me.

                                      Assighat

We spent sometimes there ,it was getting dark , he invited me to accompany them to Assighat. I have noticed most of the low end tourists stay in various lodges around Assighat. That place also has many restaurants serving foreign tourists from nations like Spain,Italy, China, Japan etc. We went to one of the lodges along Ganges. I came across so many back packers there. We walked into a big room where already a mix group of male female back packers were there. I could smell hashish or cannabis, hear a very soft raga on sitar in the dim light. All were sitting on the floor. It was dreamy ambience, in my bachelor days I had a few drag of charas with my friend Thampi in Indian Oil,Barauni. I was a bit hesitant but Pyarelal held my hand gave a reassuring squeeze. In typical Indian style we sat down by occupying one of the walls as backrest and waved at the group in general. As Pyrelal was known to them so I was readily accepted. A chillum was getting passed from hand to hand. I was already high after visiting temple and meeting Pyarelal unexpectedly. My turn came and I took a cautious half lungful drag. There was no effect only my throat became dry, i coughed. In the meanwhile Pyarelal was expertly handling the chillum. Another chillum came to me, too many chillums were in circulation. It went on and lost count of drags I took, I was feeling light. Pyrelal in the meantime was busy in talking with a young girl.

I did not know when I got up and walked out.I was standing in the balcony, the freezing wind from Ganges was hitting my face. I was feeling light as though weightless, I was in a very happy mood.  A shadowy figure approached me, the posture looked familiar. I was shocked ,I was looking at younger me. I looked closely , it was me of Barauni when I was weighing less than 65 kg.

“How are you?” younger me asked.

“I am fine .” I stammered.

“What have you done to my body? You added more than 20 kgs  of weight and 10 inches in the waistline. Grey falling hair is understandable. Have you stopped playing games , you have fallen in the trap of change of life style.” My younger self admonished me.

“ Yes I know I have gain weight and struggling to reduce.” I said lamely.

I was happy to see me of 1969 or so, in that drain pipe pant and a woolen jacket of that era. I thought I must be hallucinating, “ You are not real, it is trick of my mind playing with me. How is it possible?”

“Why I am with you always,true it is all in the mind , there is a switch and you have to select the happy moment of your life. Today unknowingly you chose your Barauni  bachelor days as you consider those as your happiest moments in your adult life also you were introduced to charas then. This selection was not in your hand. It was that grass which you inhaled decided for you.”

“True,left to me I would have chosen those happy school days with my parents in Delhi. No responsibility excepting passing exams.”

“Well you will get chance for that too but not tonight. You better leave this place and head for hotel.Come I will leave you to hotel.”

Both of us got down and took an auto for the hotel. I felt sleepy but the younger me was holding me steady. The auto driver was suspiciously looking back when we were talking.

I paid the auto driver, he held me and helped to the elevator. We reached our floor and knocked on the door of my hotel room.

My wife opened the door, she looked baffled at both of us. Younger me said,” Don’t worry he is alright.”

“Yes I am alright but feeling sleepy.”

“Let me help you to change.” Both of us together struggled to change my cloth. I dived to bed and asked him to join me. He joined me without a word and snugly held me in the bed.

 I suddenly woke up and found my wife putting water on my face, it was morning.

“Hey hey what are doing?”

“You were making some strange noise and calling out your own nick name repeatedly. Are you alright?”

“Yes I am.” I said guiltily then started looking for him in the bed.

“What are you searching? Last night you behaved strangely, you were talking in two voices.” Worriedly she said.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes I am fine now, last night i had a few drinks more than my regular quota.”

I did not tell her about my last night’s indulgence with drug and meeting my younger self.

Thank God that I had a good trip after smoking the grass, it could have been worse.
                                                                         

Younger me and now me.

I keep visiting Varanasi

I keep visiting Varanasi, yes i have been doing that for the last 3 years. I made 4 back to back visits but sill as though i have not seen all or sometimes i feel as though i did not get what i was searching for so i have to make another visit.

There is compulsory walk of about 1.5 kms to reach Dashashwamedh ghat from Godhulia as no conveyance is allowed in that stretch. Many a times we have taken narrow parallel lanes to reach the ghat to avoid heavy crowd. Varanasi has labyrinths of lanes,one can reach from point A to point B through the narrow lanes without touching the motor-able roads. Mostly these lanes are 4 to 5 ft wide. Almost all the lanes get sun ray for a few minutes when orbiting sun takes a position bang along the lanes.One has to have guide to take walk in these complex intertwining lanes. One has to jostle for space with bulls,cows,motor bikes, funeral procession,shoppers etc. I always go prepared to walk in lanes with walking shoes, my wife reluctantly follows me. 

All those music teachers,scholars,dance schools, Banarsi saree factories, pan walas, rabdi walas , international cafes all are in these lanes.Mandir,majhar,mosque,jain temple you name it all are in the lanes. If one does not walk the lanes then he or she has not seen Varanasi from the close quarter. I have seen foreign tourists and backpackers walking in the lanes with Lonely Planet book as guide. Don't be surprise if you find restaurants selling Japanese,Thai,Italian, Spanish foods in those narrow lanes. The most surprising thing i noticed are the foreign language skills of those half literate guides. In every visit i do check with foreigners whether those young Banarsi fellows speaking their language or not. Always the answer was yes. It's just amazing.

 I will do more research on Varanasi lanes in my next visit.

In Varanasi either you take cycle ricksaw or a Auto ricksaw to commute in those crowded streets. Cars can't negotiate the unruly roads.

But be prepared for the unexpected.

One is not allowed to take pictures inside those revered temples.

Kaal Vairav

                                                                      Sankatmochan, a temple of Hanuman

Ganges

Yes, this Holy river is the main attraction not only for Hindus but for all religions,  tourists from all over the world throng here. Ganges is Uttarmukhi in Kashi or Varanasi....all .the major rivers flows from North and drains in sea by flowing towards South but here Ganges flows from Soth towards North ...Irrespective of season this Holy river has a mystical power of drawing people. 

 To die here in his city on the banks of the holy river is to achieve moksha, liberation from the cycle of life and death. Death is not hidden in India. It is part of life, and one reason why you find cremation grounds in the very center of Varanasi, and cremation ghats lining the river.

. The city is known worldwide for its many ghats  embankments made in steps of stone slabs along the river bank where pilgrims perform ritual ablutions. Of particular note are the Dashashwamedh Ghat, the Panchganga Ghat, the Manikarnika Ghat and the Harishchandra Ghat, the last two being where Hindus cremate their dead.

                                                                                        

     I somehow keep on taking pictures of Ganges from every possible angles but still don't feel satisfied because it can not be captured in a picture frame. It is like time keeps on flowing and when i come next time i am a year older and there is discernible shift in my outlook, i rediscover Ganges in a different hue.

                                                                             

Ararti

I have been visiting Varanasi since 1981 when i was posted at Singrauli from BHEL for NTPC's Singrauli Super Thermal Popwer Station. Those days arati was not this glamorous, it was there but in low key. May be effect of globalization has touched this holy place too.

 

I have noticed the people of Varanasi have not changed much, the modernity have not touched their life style like any other metropolitan city. One gets priests of all ages. What surprises me most are the guides who are just ordinary people and have not attended any language class. They can speak Spanish, Japanese, French, Italian just any language without any formal training.  This time i asked this guide who was speaking French ," How did you pickup the language?'

"Bus yunhi boltey boltey." he said shyly.

Here is one conversation in Spanish which i recorded last year. A boatman speaking Spanish....amazing...hats off...

My discovery of Varanasi has not finished yet....har har Mahadev