Academy days (3)

Institutional training for promoted O.F.S. Officers was also conducted prior to the joining of the fresh recruits. Besides, many officers who were directly inducted to the field because of vacancies had to undergo training later. We had conducted training for them too. One needs to be creative to infuse vibrancy in any walk of life as nobody loves stereotypes. We precisely tried to do that in the training curriculum.

The ministerial officers are required to successfully complete the Accounts Training of the Academy to become eligible for promotion. Once it so happened that a ministerial officer of the Forest department, on the verge of retirement came for the training. On a routine check of Attendance register I found him bunking off many classes. On inquiry I knew it was a classic case of alcoholic abuse. His son, who was working on a paltry sum at a private organisation, was in search of a decent job in our city after engineering. In spite of counselling the trainee continued to remain obstinate and was found in an inebriated state all the time. I summoned the trainee and became extremely ruthless to bring him back to his senses. After he left my chamber, I was horrified to discover that his son was standing outside the chamber with a dejected look hearing every word I shouted. I invited him in and told him that I had no option other than rebuking. He was apologetic and told me that for over a year he and his mother were trying to regulate his life style but nothing seemed to work. I felt very sad for the young man and promised to help in my small way.

On another occasion I heard that a lady trainee was sobbing uncontrollably in the lobby. I was worried and sent words asking her to meet me immediately. The lady was disconsolate and I offered a glass of cold water to calm her down. From her narration, it was apparent that a fellow trainee was harassing her because she had been a little indiscreet in showing her preference which was taken advantage to. I asked her if she continued to have any soft feeling for the person she was referring to. She was very categorical in her denial but was scared of the scandalous stories doing the rounds. ‘Look, you are a brave woman. Come what may, take every problem headlong. Leave the rest to me, I promise I would solve it’, that was my advice to her.  Nothing untoward happened after that.

 A person, because of his exemplary works and sacrificial deeds earned enough merit points (Punya) after his death for reserving a seat in the direct flight to heaven. When he reached heaven he was amused to find persons in utter gaiety only to discover later that people living in paradise had no experience of melancholy as they never know pain, sorrow, gloom,  distress or the like because they are not only immortal but are also immune to ageing. He lived many, many years in the company of the gods enjoying the merriment of the paradise. Every account is depleted by the debits and likewise his merit points gradually got exhausted and finally a day approached when he had to depart from heaven. Surprisingly he noticed no one felt sad nor a tear shed for his impending departure. He was shocked, “what a place to live in!” he rummaged, “no parting tears, no sad face and strangely enough no one seems to be missing him, oh! It is horrible. How different it was there in earth! People will miss you even at the slightest absence. Here no one bothers!” Now he became conscious that it was heaven and there was no unhappiness, no distress and no pain. He promised then and there- whatever merit points he might earn in future, he would never return to heaven even though invited.

I heard the episode the other day when my uncle, who is an outstanding scholar, was reciting this beautiful poem of Rabindranath. The poem is simply stunning. It is an exquisite masterpiece of the great writer depicting the human emotions with such dexterity that it leaves everyone spell bound.

Unlike the people of the paradise, we human beings are extremely sensitive to our surroundings. It is no wonder if I genuinely missed my colleagues who are transferred and feel the vacuity quite for some time although as the Director of the Academy I had to hide my emotions to play the role of an administrator. Similarly I miss the known faces of different batches, outwardly showing stoic indifference. It is true that I wear an external facade that shows my appearance as stern and non-compromising. It does not necessarily mean that I am immune to emotions or I lost compassion for genuine problems but rather my viewing was much more incisive and objective. 

Academy days(2)

It was decided earlier that the two-hundred plus fresh recruits of Odisha Finance Service would go through institutional training in two batches.

 We arranged a Welcome ceremony for the Probationers (newly recruited Finance Service Officers) to get a feel of the Academy and they were addressed by the Honourable Minister and the Principal Secretary. It is needles to mention that it is not easy to handle a crowd of hundred adults unless discipline is instilled and I gave a piece of my mind to ensure that. Fortunately at that time we had a team of energetic, able and efficient colleagues who took my task as their own making things easier. My past experience as a Principal of a college also helped me to manage young sentiments.

I remember when I joined Finance Service, way back in 1980 the training was mechanical without any substance and to be honest we learnt nothing during the entire training period. The course curriculum was lack-lustre and the faculties did not have any involvement. We certainly did not want such horrendous experience to re-enact. Our in-house faculties were very competent and five of them had not only successfully completed management course but also good teachers. Besides we tried to contact the best faculties available in the subject to impart effective training.

At that time, we had a very over-burdened training calendar in the Academy owing to the mandatory three months Accounts Training of the ministerial officers of the state government, government undertakings and private institutions in four batches round the year. This schedule consumed much of our time and energy. That needed pruning and we modified the schedule and made it one-month training programme accommodating necessary requirements. Besides we had already received requests from various departments to design Accounts Training for their subordinate officers and accordingly we had designed and committed to impart training in different spells. In view of the scheduled training and committed training the additional workload of institutional training of newly recruited hundred plus officers was rather heavy but I am really grateful that my colleagues took the extra burden in their stride rather gracefully.

We had taken steps to develop necessary infrastructure for model class rooms, computer laboratory, library etc. All class rooms were equipped with modern teaching tools with Wi-Fi connectivity. The in-house faculties as well as the Guest faculties cooperated wonderfully to carry forward the programmes without any hiccups.  Minor problems in the hostel accommodation and messing etc. were sorted out by the faculties in charge. ‘You must enjoy your training, so that everything would be very pleasant without mugging up. We want to see you all as professionals not as parrots remembering everything by rote’ that was my advice to them.

There are many interesting incidents. I propose to tell all those in the next part.

Remembering Academy days

 Basically I love to write short-story which is a relatively difficult task and needs a lot of concentration. I couldn't get myself focused for over a year, because of various reasons. In order to gain back my concentration and confidence I again started writing lyrics which I had left many years back. I posted those in the Facebook. Fortunately it helped me to restore my confidence because I received unbelievable response from my friends, especially the young ones. It amused me a lot to know that the young friends were wondering- how a difficult person like me could write such romantic verses on love and allied emotions. That experience is worth preserving and I would certainly remember till the last day. During my college days many of my short stories were published in the college magazines and in other magazines where I received awards. Apart from that I never sent my stories for publication. After superannuation from Government service, I started to revive my skills as a story-writer and succeeded in writing some stories and a series, in the lighter vein of post-retirement escapades but those are yet to see the lights of the day because I have not sent those for publication. Believe me, I am scared a lot to imagine the reaction of my young friends if the stories got published.

Towards the last phase of my government service I was posted as Director of the Training Academy of the Finance Department. That was a difficult assignment in the sense that we tried to modernise and modify the routine training and designed the curriculum keeping pace with the advanced training programmes. The Principal Secretary was a dynamic administrator and allowed a free hand to design the courses of study  which  were deliberated upon, discussed and adopted after due modification. The entire exercise took over four months and finally the curriculum was ready before the arrival of two hundred plus direct recruits of Finance Service Officers. The Principal Secretary asked me if we could take up training of all the officers at one go. ‘We can very well take up the challenge but accommodation would be a problem as we could provide hostel facilities only for hundred trainees at a time’, I replied. It was decided that they would be trained in two batches. I was asked to continue as Director till the training programme of two batches was over. That is how I came across two hundred plus young and fresh recruits who knew me as a stern and heartless administrator.

I am not really surprised to find their exhilaration in my emotional outbursts in the lyrics.

Old poems

Of late I started becoming lyrical with the belief that I could possibly revive the poet in me that remained stoically indifferent for over thirty years. But lo, the efforts gradually faded out like the vanishing ink! Reconciling the reality I peeped through the pages of my old notebook of those days to discover the poetic touches I had at that time.

Silence

Silence is the word

To describe innocence

Or separation or love?

I cannot say.

Pity, days are such

One often meets it in the streets, in the office

And strangely over ‘phone

To talk is different.

Pouring words down the memory lane

Makes moments hazy and hectic.

But lo, silence there writ large

When the curtain drops over many flashbacks.

Is there no escape from the onslaught of it?

And again silence is the word.

Introspection

The urge to know and be known

Are simultaneous desires

Hovering round relationship-new and raw

To be in love is to be in fire.

Torments are the musical notes

That keeps the fire dancing till the rains.

And then the smell of earth; misty drenched with memory.

Man probably loves repetition and renews misery

Mistaking yesterday for tomorrow

Journey

Distance is a disagreeable small girl

Who does not understand much of geography!

Distancing the distance is love.

Separation, the irrepressible attribute of love

Is so sweet, so musical

One often forgets the rhythm of worldly dance

And celebrates

The ceremony of the abstraction instead

And you are a journey

Alternating between love and distance

That never started.

Vermilion

I saw vermilion reflected in the two drops

Oozing out of your eyes

When I injured my finger in the broken pane

You never uttered a word nor did I.

Probably we understood words are meaningless

To stamp the emotions with date and hour

But yesterday, only yesterday

I saw the mark clean and clear on your forehead.

Oh, don’t ask me if it had been

Tears in my hand

Rhapsody of six days

First day

Glimpses of a sunrise

And the prospects of the day new and fresh

Stole my sleep for a month

I never understood, really never

That it was a sunset.

I deserve the darkness anyway

And no tears please

Second day

What Hamlet Mused?

Is an academic discussion but what I feel

Is a personal suffering

Equation of the two

Might have some relevance for posterity

But to me none

Third day

Diwali and the lights

Failed to illuminate the dark recess of my heart

But oh, the beverage? Yes.

Hot and stingy liquids

Washed all those impure insidious invectives

And made me pristine like the first water

Fourth day

Devotion is a sacred word

To substitute hypocrisy

I wish I had been a little hypocrite

Don’t ask me what my devotion is

Or what it ought to be

Laugh if you must, but save the tears

I know what it means.

Fifth day

It has always been a weakness with me

To say ’yeah’ in a wrong place in a wrong time

The monotony of days is so disgusting

That I invent mistakes

To escape the long drawn ennui

I suffer but never regret;

And for heaven’s sake don’t console

In case you want to be charitable

Pity those who pretend to be righteous.

Sixth day

It has been almost a week

Since I had the fleeting glimpse of the waves

Emotions, accompanying the waves

Rolled in such symmetry

That I had the illusion of a pattern- solid and strong

That is why I wrote a letter to you, my love

Don’t question the prudence

Measure the intensity instead

And forget, as if it never happened.

 Happy New Year 2014 and best wishes.

 

Thoughts on a rainy day

My uncle is a voracious reader from his young days and my maternal grandfather had ensured a huge collection of books to satisfy his needs. In my childhood days-as a routine- we spend the summer vacation in my uncle’s place that paved way for my exposure to a good library quite early in my life. My uncle added numerous new titles during his student days and after. Probably that was the reason for which I enjoyed reading books and got new ideas when I was nine or ten years old. My passion for literature remained all through. My uncle is a remarkable scholar and academician and it is no wonder apart from critical appreciation in the state, his books and research papers are highly acclaimed in many western countries.

It was a proud moment for me when my uncle received the highest award of the state for literature for the year 2011 from the Chief Minister on 25^th July. The atmosphere in the auditorium was captivating when one finds many writers, publishers, critics and knowledgeable crowd in a single venue. Unlike other occasions I found senior citizens in equal proportion among the audience which reminded me that it is the mind that creates not the age. Literature is an all-embracing alchemy that links all which is reinforced by the presence of young faces in large numbers as well. But honestly I was a bit skeptical about the reading habit of young generation especially because I found most of them unenthusiastic about reading the literature in the vernacular. I do not know the exact reason of their apathy towards the literature in own language. Was it because of our over-dependence on English language and literature? Or was it because vernacular literature has failed to be as enchanting as it ought to have been! I wish it was only a passing trend without any permanence attached to it. We must enrich our language and literature to bring the ecstasy back that charmed many in their young days.

Coming back to mundane world, I never imagined, post-retirement scenario could be as frenzied as I experienced in the last few months. I do admit I was not among the better managers but the unfinished works had assumed such gigantic proportion that my best efforts proved to be too little too late. To my horror I found the records of the inherited land lying chaotically scattered in a briefcase in the most unsystematic manner for which I had to run from pillar to post to keep some semblance of scientific management. The task was never easy because I was unaware of the locations and used a guide instead to show me my own land. How ridiculous it sounds! That irritated my better-half so much so that she declared rather snobbishly that her parents had erred in judgement in selecting the most wretched and incompetent son in law. I cheerfully agreed to the suggestion stating rather boldly that the distressing decision of my parents was miserably similar in choosing the stupid daughter in law. I disappeared before she could find her bearing.

I don’t believe in pessimism simply because it tends to drag backwards instead of taking one forward. I am yet to find a person who is not afflicted by misfortune, disillusionment, sorrow, bad tidings and the lot at different points of time. It is common knowledge, life is not a bed of roses and at adverse situations there is no alternative apart from facing it headlong. Come what may, there is no point shying away from it. Why not put up a brave face with a sweet smile? As the poet says, ‘if winter comes, can spring be far behind?’ Of course in this part of the globe winter is not too harsh nor the spring distinctive. But certainly we have not forgotten the Sanskrit saying “Chakrabat paribartante Sukhanicha Dukhanicha” which signifies intrinsic changeability of ecstasy and affliction in rotation like the change of positions of a moving wheel. If transmutation of human conditions is the order of the day let us embrace sorrow and joy in the same vein. But my wife would never tolerate such sermons. She wanted results; effective and instantaneous. Where would I get that magic lamp to ensure what I wished?

It so happened that we got the opportunity to visit the nearby forest guest house to enjoy the rich flora and fauna of the area. She was simply fascinated by the dense forest and the rich trees all around her. It took many years to grow such diverse and rich forest I started telling her like a guide. After all, Rome was not built in a day-‘you must have patience to see results, honey’. She understood my hints and started fuming but surprisingly controlled herself to enjoy nature for the rest of the evening.  

       

Alibi to a weakness

I often wonder why God created that tiny little throbbing which we call conscience. It takes pleasure in constantly behaving like a nagging wife and never stops questioning whether you like it or not. If I did something wrong why does it monitor? Everyone knows, when the time comes I would be answerable to all my stupidities at the proper forum – whether in heaven or hell. But why on earth this tiny tyrant makes my life miserable now? Yesterday I felt like hearing- this person remained consistently irresponsible all the time. Oh my God it is terrible. For heaven sake, find some pleasant words to describe my activities. But that monster would not listen to any such thing.  I implored myself a dozen times- it cannot be true, can it be? The answer was faint and feeble. I could not make out what it means.

Most of us love to lead our life in our own way. We patent our information to masquerade as knowledge but conveniently forget it to be illusory. By the time realization dawns on- all our life seems to have been spent in meaningless exercises ending in sweet nothings. There would be absolutely no hope to retrace the steps back to start life all over again. How frustrating it sounds! And lo wisdom remains as elusive as it was from the beginning! The more I think of it the more I suffer. Having confessed all these to my inner soul I earnestly asked-did I lack sincerity in pursuing what I believed?  There was no answer and the only sound that emanates is a treacherous silence. Yes, silence has music of its own.

I had to immerse myself in Eliot to console myself-
“Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?

  Where is the knowledge we have lost in information.”

Still there was no answer. I left the ruminating at that thinking it was time I focused my vision on what is happening rather than what happened.

 At last the monsoon has arrived providing much awaited relief from the scorching heat. The trees have started looking lush green with glistening rain drops oozing out from leaves which were considered lack lustre only a couple of days back but the cuckoos have stopped singing as if to reiterate –if someone begins to laugh, someone somewhere else stops. Is it to justify the terrible stability of the world? Well, I am a novice if I didn't know.

Recently I read my friend’s blog and found he had kept a notebook of his earlier years reflecting his thoughts at different times. Once he suffered from severe throat infection and apprehending serious ailment he scribbled some lines which were very poetic. I enjoyed the poems; however I didn't ask him who the ‘she’ in his scribbling. Inspiration can be real or imaginary and I believe a writer is entitled to his privacy.

Raja Parba in mid-June is a four day celebration in our State marking the beginning of the agricultural year. The sun dried soil gets drenched with first monsoon rain to make it productive and people rejoice the days with indoor and out door games. Girls play swings singing Raja-doli songs. People living in urban areas may not feel the intensity of its celebration but we felt it in our villages in our child-hood days. Today incidentally is the Pahili Raja-the first day of Raja festival. Women are given a break from household works for three days. Unfortunately my culinary expertise is miserably limited to preparing raw tea and like every year my wife would again have to compromise her customary break. I feel sad for my incompetence but then why didn't she ascertain the expertise before marriage? Nobody denied her that right or was she too shy to ask? ‘Niskama karma’ or the desire less action is the central message of “Bhagavad-Gita”. She has read it many times. I am sure I don’t have to remind her to find what it means.

   

  

  

 

.  

Misplaced adventure

Yesterday I had a cute and exciting visitor- the daughter of my cousin who I imagine must be around two years old but how swiftly she assumed the role of an unhesitating boss! On arrival she took my wife to a corner and whispered in her ears, ‘give me hot mixture ’. My wife obliged but after tasting a few she declared it to be sub-standard and demanded, ‘give me some gravy instead’. It was well past lunch time, so my wife was apologetic but promised that a full mug would be categorically kept reserved in her next visit. The answer probably didn't satisfy her. She snatched the pen from her grandfather’s shirt pocket and apprehending further assault I smartly offered a piece of paper. She started scribbling on the paper with occasional shouts ‘don’t disturb’. The small child, like all children wanted to impress us. While scribbling she had a tricky glance both ways with intermittent twinkling of her eye to ensure unstinting attention of the onlookers. The behavior was amazing and as pristine as the first water. In my mind’s eye I could not believe, once upon a time I was a small kid too. Time has either deformed me or is deformed by me.

A piece of writing can be corrected or revised. Words uttered are impossible to retrieve but with some effort and if need be with apology, can be amended but life does not offer a second chance to get back the days lost in the wilderness. I often tease my better half by saying ‘I didn't prove to be a good husband since it is my first marriage and I lacked experience. Given a second chance I could prove to be a gem’. ‘What?’ she shouts back angrily but I disappear before she collects her missiles.

The other day she was unhappy that the ceiling fans were looking dirty because of poor maintenance. Most women take pride in keeping the house shining. The next day, when she was busy in the kitchen I took up her cause and started cleaning the fans. She was alarmed when she saw me on the desk top cleaning the blades with Colin and screamed, ‘a person had a fatal fall while cleaning the fans in your fashion’. I calmed her by saying, ‘look honey, I had escaped unhurt in unbelievable circumstances. Don’t scare me on these silly efforts.’  Then I narrated my misadventure during my teen age.

My father had three guns; two rifles and a shot-gun with valid licences. In those days gun licences were issued both for sports and protection.  Because of long association I was able to handle guns efficiently. A friend of mine, who was three years senior to me, used his father’s double-barreled gun occasionally. I remember, it was my second year in the college. My friend suggested we visit the nearby hillock to explore wild life. I was as adventurous as any young man of my age and agreed instantly. His younger brother, who was incidentally my classmate and another person- quite experienced in wild life were the other members of the exploring team. He took the double barreled gun with cartridges and I stole two cartridges from my grand father’s cartridge box. We intend to use the  gun only for protection. The hill had a reasonable forest cover and we enjoyed the smell of forest while climbing up. Although that weapon was new to me they insisted I carry the gun with two cartridges loaded on both the barrels. Other cartridges were kept by my friend. I and my friend were climbing side by side while others were following.  On reaching the top my friend suddenly stopped and pointed his fingers to the cave. Two wild bears, some twenty feet away were probably enjoying an afternoon siesta by leisurely lying in the mouth of the cave. They didn't like our intrusion more so the way the finger was pointed at them. The first one suddenly came charging in and I raised the gun, pulled the hammer and pressed the trigger. The bullet didn't fire. The bear stopped half way and returned to the cave only to come charging in unison with its associate. Again I pointed the gun, took aim and pressed the trigger. Nothing happened. For some strange reasons they retreated down the hillock making some wild sounds in their own language. I surveyed the scene. My friend had slipped when the first bear attacked and the cartridges were lying scattered. The so called experienced person had climbed up a tall tree and safely perched on it. My classmate was standing beside me raising a wide-mouthed axe. I examined the gun. It had two hammers and both are to be pulled to activate both the triggers but I had pulled only the left one for which the fist trigger was inactive. Our double barreled shot gun is different because it has a safe which has to be pushed up to make the triggers active. I was used to that gun only. All of them grumbled that I didn't take the shot at the right time. I explained, we are lucky that I could not take the shot for some technical reasons. The cartridges loaded on the barrels contained small pellets which could have inflicted small injury to the first bear resulting intense retaliation by both the bears. Our injury could have been much more grievous had it happened.

‘ How do you explain this miraculous escape?’ I asked my wife. ‘Your so called exploration is sheer nonsense’ she shrieked.  

I am sure, I have to take rebirth to study the minds of the ladies.