January-Part Two

During my formative years I had been asked time and again ‘What is your aim in life?’ I remember I had dissimilar answers on various stages. It is quite obvious because you cannot expect a youngster of eighteen to repeat what he stated as a boy at ten. Boys are very imaginative and are prone to influences that impressed them. I have seen boys declaring ‘I want to be a Joker’ after visiting a circus because he enjoyed the exciting and entertaining antics. What is so embarrassing to raise our eye brows? A joker may be his idol at that age. I for one never believed in asking a question like this except in interviews, that too if the attitude of a candidate is confusing. I sometimes wonder if the rationale behind such query was not obscure and dated. But then I am not an expert.

After clearing the written test for Probationary Officers of a Bank I was asked in the Viva-voce ‘Mr Dash, you look older than your age’. ‘How can I help it Sir? There is no way I could know my age except the documents showing my date of birth’, I replied. In contrast when I retired many said- you look younger than your age. Divergent views reminded me of Keats who once wrote ‘beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder’. Here of course it is not the beauty but age. With a little liberty a Shakespearean quote could be twisted as, ’what is there in an age? A mind at any age could smell as sweet’. (Is it really?)

‘April is the cruellest month, but O sweet new one, Eliot would have changed his version had he seen you today. Welcome to the Department’. It was the month of April and the welcome message was written on the black board by one of our friends welcoming a new student who enrolled in our Post-graduate class. The new entrant who happened to be a lady blushed but others were enjoying the note. Youthful exuberance I suppose. The professor-a true Gandhian with Khaddar dhoti and kurta- entered the classroom and took attendance. While delivering the lecture he noticed some sensitive under current and suddenly looked back to find the source. ‘Who has written this?’ he asked. No one answered in spite of his repeated queries. Unable to find the duster he started wiping out the writing by his own dress while muttering ‘See what your professor is doing’. Tears rolled down his cheeks when he left the classroom. Our friend who later became a good writer, academician and social worker immediately rushed to the chamber of the professor and confessed. The professor initially did not believe at all but our friend was able to convince him. He was a brilliant teacher but very sensitive and emotional. I am yet to find a professor who teaches Shakespearian plays as beautifully as he was able to. He considers the students as his children and was a tremendous human being too. Alas, he is no more. I feel my wet eyes remembering him with love and reverence.

The weather in January remains cool and pleasant, offering ideal time for picnics and celebrations. So I was not surprised when my friend rang up and asked whether I would be free to attend the get together the following day. By all means, yes, I replied. He hesitantly asked again if he could count my name in the list. What is so offensive in counting my name, I demanded. He was apologetic and explained that he was under the impression that I would be attending the picnic of the Retired Officers’ Association scheduled on the same day and that was the reason for his confusion. I laughed and said that the problem had been resolved by our learned friend in the Association who refused to recognise my credential as a retired officer. “What credential” he was still not satisfied. I would explain that when we meet, I assured him.

Our learned friend had given me a ring earlier in the day and knowing my inconvenience in attending the picnic declared that I was not qualified to be a retired officer because I didn’t complete the probation. “Did you say probation?” I exclaimed. “Yes mate,” he replied calmly “for not completing one year of retirement”.

We had a hearty laugh together in the evening when I explained my disqualification to my other friends.

 In spite of all these the fact remains that I have retired from Government service. Charaibeti…charaibeti Go on go on until the road ends until there is no other place to go I chide myself. Don’t stop don’t rest till you are able to replace some one’s tear with a smile.