Lockdown Times

I am not there yet, but like everybody I believe I will make it through the other end of the pandemic. Just a few big and uncomfortable changes, a never ending lockdown and all will be fine. In the beginning of this pandemic all these changes were strictly followed like “New Year Resolutions”, well, we all know what happens to New Year resolutions. 😪 Experts believe that coronavirus is here to stay and we must adapt to these changes. 😢 Seriously? Did the expert mean that I will always have to route fresh air into my nose through a mesh of tight uncomfortable cotton/nylon or whatever layer they apply for extra protection? I haven’t quite grasped the protectiveness of those layers yet, but a deep inner and outer voice in unison cheer my decision to put out those layers. So when I see my fellow countrymen pulling down those protective layers to inquire or inform me about the random mundane proceedings of life I have mixed feelings. I can relate to their instinct yet wish to shout out to them, “You are the reason I can’t hang out at my favourite mall, movie or restaurant! It’s your fault that I still owe my friend a birthday treat.” These are serious allegations in my court of justice and may God save my countrymen from my fury if they are saved by their immunity from the virus. Nowadays I can’t stop myself from being reminiscent of the good old virus free days.

                                                                              

We were all living a very hectic, sometimes unhappy, mostly stressful, but a restriction free life until that day, that beautiful Sunday, in which there were happy claps and bells all over our and everybody's neighbourhood in India. It was the 22nd day of March of the year 2020. Summer was oncoming and the orange sun lingered a little more in the horizon those days, yet not a soul was loitering in the streets or enjoying a park that evening. No car zoomed past our quiet apartment honking for attention, no one was gossiping about a deadly virus over a cup of tea outside, no one had date nights at fancy restaurants and no one was thinking of taking the family to a mall. No one. The city of joy that day was akin to the city of ghosts. Completely still. All till the stroke of 5pm. At the exact stroke of 5 everyone was out in their balcony/patio clapping, cheering and sounding bells. The streets that were empty of humans was filled with hope. The air was loaded with such a strong emotion of unity that any crotchety person might as well be a trespasser trespassing a beautiful loving family reunion, where all the long lost distant relatives had finally gathered. It was as if the diverse people of a united nation were being tuned in to a single channel. It was the day of Janta Curfew.

Coronavirus or COVID 19 was first discovered in the bazaars of China and henceforth shared with the entire planet. While the world was busy debating the intentions of China, the virus was busy devouring nations.

India, soaked in its chaotic humdrum of life, had not recognised COVID 19 as something worthy of much attention.

"All foreign returned NRIs should be what you call it, Qua.. quaratime... arrree.... that in which you lock a potentially sick person in a room for some days." Some random tea drinker would say.

"Quarantined?" The elitest of the tea drinker would snobbishly remark.

So far this disease, that had wreaked havoc in many unfortunate nations, was not much more than a voguish topic for tea time discussion in India. We thought it would limit it's presence to the chai time breaks of our lives until the scenario altered. A few NRIs escaped their quarantine and infected a few non-NRIs. The infected non-NRIs infected more. In a short span the numbers doubled and then trebled. All shops, services, workplaces and of course, the countrymen were asked to maintain a ‘social distance’ of at least six feet. The virus fortunately, unathletic and obese by virtue of its disposition, was not air borne and transmitted primarily through infected surfaces or close contact. Yet when no one socially distanced themselves and the numbers continued surging a more stringent order was announced by the Prime Minister. Lockdown, it was called. On 24th March 2020 the whole country went for a lockdown of twenty one days. All shops, services, business transactions, travels, constructions and even local transportations had been suspended.

And thus a country of boisterous, somewhat frenzied people became a ghost town overnight with empty silent streets. The only thing loitering our streets were these ↓↓↡⬇️.

In those silent times a select few had the liberty to walk down the isolated lanes and carry on with their natural routine in an unnatural way. They were called the COVID warriors. The real warriors of this time were the doctors and nurses and other medical staff who were busy healing our patients, however, there were other warriors too. For example, the Angel Grocery Storewala, our COVID warrior, could continue his business without supplies because the transport guy was not a warrior.

Our grumpy local pharmacist, again a COVID warrior,  frowned at the sight customers. Miniature masks was all he had to offer after running out of medicines to those queuing outside his shop in those demarcated circles. Even our friendly vegetable seller (another COVID warrior) who brought us fresh vegetables from the farmlands was more and more infrequently spotted at her stall.

We bankers were COVID warriors too, albeit overlooked ones. The nation throughout the lockdown appeared to be very enthusiastic in forming queues outside banks to withdraw bit by bit in small doses throughout the month. This was the second time in my career that I was reminded by my higher ups that I was doing a noble job of helping the people of my nation in distressed times who believed that their biggest cause of distress is lengthy lunch hours.

It's been two months now of being soaked in sanitisers, detergents, masks, gloves and covers. Even my phones have a proper ablution ritual now. Most of my favourite shops are closed and life as a whole came to a standstill. It's as if someone decided to wipe out the good things and replace them with anxiety and drudgery. Any news we hear is high in doses of anxiety and uncertainty. While we are busy imagining ourselves deprived of continental food the makers of the food have gone out of business. IaSometimes I wonder what the people on those mountains are doing?... Those people who run guest houses for tourists like me and those who drive curious souls like me around the place. How are they surviving these times? When will this uncertainity end? Will this end at all? 

50% Discount with Added Cashback

This caption was used to try to attract your attention as it worked wonders on mine yesterday. I was just lazily swiping my phone to get to know it better when I happened to see it. But before I could understand the real terms of the discount, think about the utility of the items on discount or reason with myself about the actual benefits of the discount I found myself clicking somewhere and the next thing was getting the “Thank You” message from Myntra and a reminder from my bank that I would be penalised for non-maintainance of minimum balance.

Every time I received the “Thank You” message  from an e-commerce site my brain filled my heart with guilt for buying discounts instead of anything that was actually required. 

“I could have bought lavish lunches for my family with this money for the next ten days and paid the electricity bills too.”

These thoughts made me feel unholy and almost sinful until I came by the news of some saint or sage or priest being charged for something far more unholy and sinful (these days such news items are very common). So I pick myself up and carry on till the next “unbelievable offer” notification on my phone.

Offers of discount always do trick. See, I wanted to grab your attention and I have it. Now it is time to move on to the real thing that I want to share and it has got nothing to do with discounts or offers or my weakness for them. In the last few days I met three people. Three people who got me into some real thinking. I just wanted to share my share experience with them.

The Rickshaw Puller

I generally enjoy an open rickshaw ride to work  on good weather days. Cloudy days on which the cool breeze brushes against my face and hair to create a tingling sensation during a bumpy ride is my favourite. These autumn days were offering me just that goodness and that day my ride was exactly how I liked it. A rickety rickshaw like that, which could break down just anywhere, was like icing on the cake. I felt so good that I decided to tip the rickshaw puller an extra one third of the fare. The idea of the tip got me even more elated. I was having a good day and I was just about to make someone’s as good as mine. On reaching work I handed over the fare along with the feel good tip that I wanted to give. The rickshaw puller took the money, counted it and twisted his face into an agitated scowl. Then he screamed.

“Just Rs 30/-? I meandered my way through the crowded street pedalling all the way.”

My happy feeling just committed suicide somewhere inside me.

“But I have already given you more than the fare itself.” I tried to retort without much success. He screamed and shouted till I conceded to his demands and handed over somewhere close to double the amount I was going to tip. 

The Old Lady Outside

One day while I was rushing to work I saw a brittle, wrinkled but graceful old lady. She must have been in her sixties and seemed to be searching the area. Her movements were elegant in spite of the tension that showed through her furrowed brows. I saw the jolly newspaper guy sorting out his newspapers for the day while keeping an eye on the lady and wondered how could he be so indifferent. I should stop by to help the good old lady at least, I thought.

“Madam, have you lost something? May I help you find it?” I asked.

“It’s no use. I have searched everywhere for the five hundred note that slipped out of my purse. Now I don’t have money to go home.” She replied in a worried tone.

Moved by her condition I decided to help her by providing her her fare to reach home. So I asked how much money would be required to safely take her home. 

“Around a hundred. I live far you see.” She mumbled.

Before I could do or say anything the newspaper boy who was sorting the newspapers came to us looked at her in the eye and spoke sternly, “Madam, since morning I have been noticing you. You have so far collected more than you claim to have lost.”

The Beggar Kid

Maybe this time it was just my mind playing games with me. The suspicious part of me might have grown roots all over my nicer side and was responsible for my feelings towards the ragged little girl in distress.

I was galloping towards the metro station clearing my way through the crowd and cursing the crowd and my absent colleague. I was so lost in trying to make way for myself that I could barely feel someone slipping a chit inside my half closed fist until my whole wrist itself was shook vigorously. I stopped and looked down at the culprit. A small girl dressed in dirty torn clothes who must never have combed her otherwise thick straight hair, which was also very dirty, looked back at me. I was still looking at her surprised when she pointed at the small piece of paper that she had slipped into my hand. I looked down at the chit. It was typed neatly and was the only clean thing about her.

“I am eleven years old and I have a brother who is five years old. We have been turned out by our drunkard father and are homeless. Your kindness will help us sustain our hope and life.”

I looked up at her, then at the chit and finally handed over a ten rupees note without much thought. The girl took it and disappeared in the crowd. I felt very uneasy that night.

“Did I help a little girl buy food or did I just encourage her traffickers.”

A Store Story (trying my hand at fiction)

Lets imagine a supermarket. Ever wondered what goes on behind the shiny, attractive "you definitely need me" items placed on beautifully decorated and carefully labelled shelves? No? Not your fault. You were probably too stressed convincing yourself about items that were not the key to your survival. I will definitely not go deeper and describe the torture that the spirits of those "not purchased" items bestow on you. In fact when I visit one I am fully convinced that clothes and accessories are indispensable. And no. Food and other groceries can't replace them. That is if you aren't speaking about red velvet pastry or chocolate truffle pastry.

I, a shopper, like you go through these difficult days quite often. One fine day just as I was going through the dark process of making a choice between food grains and the latest Forever 21 top I met a girl. Her name was Dash. A not very tall, bespectacled girl of my age dressed in a mustard casual henley top and denims. She worked at the store and helped me get a discount on food grains. We spoke to each other and decided to hang out the next day. She seemed to be a nice, sweet and innocent girl. The more I came to know her the more I wanted to be her friend. The more I heard from her the stronger I felt our bond grow. Dash had dreams. She wanted to travel the world. She wanted to quit her present job for a better one. She worked hard all day at the store so that she could go home early and prepare herself for her dream job. This year she had almost cleared her dream exam. But nepotism does exist. Next year would be her fifth and final attempt. She never let her dreams be a hinderance at work and performed all duties at the store with utmost sincerity. She had a heart of gold and never wanted to harm anyone but the store keeper. For the last few evenings she looked disturbed and complained of an inveterate headache. She looks drained everyday. But nowadays she is not just drained of energy, she is also drained of hope and everything nice. I am worried. She tells me everything and I just thought if you would be interested in the story of her supermarket.

It was a medium sized super-market located at a busy street in the outskirts of J city. Around five hundred to six hundred people frequented the market on normal days. The numbers soared to over eight hundred on festivals and other holidays. The locality belonged to the poor and middle class people and so did the market. Most of the people who visited the store were illiterate and had to be helped with the labels. The store had two owners, one a local hypocrite who wanted to please authorities by showing off his pseudo concern for the poor and the other a cunning, shrewd Rajasthani baniya who was extremely profit minded and would not stop at anything when there was a question about profits. The hypocrite was not interested in the plight of the store. He just wanted to secure a coveted position at Super-Market Regulatory Authority somewhere in the faraway mainland. The other partner was just as bad. He wanted profits at any cost. Sometimes at the cost of fleecing customers. He gave dubious instructions to his employees and chewed out anyone who got into trouble for following them. He also secretly lauded the crooked employees who managed to stoop as low as him. Cheating people and being a saint in front of those very same people were his superpowers. "I owe everything to the goodwill of my customers," He would repeat like a parrot.

Dash had never met the owners of the store. Their instructions were passed on to the store keeper in the form of a written handbill from time to time. The store had a total of eight employees. It was headed by the store keeper, Mr. Gendalal. A dark, ugly, balding, irritated young man. When I saw him he didn't look young. But Dash insisted by saying that he was unmarried and not fifty yet. I believe her. Dash was supposed to be second to him. Something like the assistant store keeper. But till date she has never been given her rightful authority as the assistant store keeper. It was because Mr. Gendalal felt something special for Miss Chameli Devi. Their relationship cannot be defined easily. Little things that one did for another made their relationship popular in the store. During lunch Mr Gendalal would empty all his favourite items into Miss Chameli's plate just because they were her favourite too. If the item was not a special favourite of Miss chameli then he would take them into his own plate. In times like these his personal preferences didn't matter. He openly complimented her for everything, looks, "nature", work etc. Now Miss Chameli Devi behaved a little differetly. Might be because of all the importance she got or maybe she was wired that way. I met her twice at the store. She roams about with an air of authority. When I didn't know the store owners I thought she must definitely be one amongst them. But Dash said "no". I asked again and got a"no" again.  Miss Chameli Devi was gifted in a different sort of way. A medium sized, young, well groomed lady. She smiled whenever she met anyone. She smiled at me too the first day we met. Thankfully ever since my childhood I was taught not to give in to smiles from strangers quickly. Otherwise I would have ended up buying that expired milk carton. I know many who have. Dash doesn't do that to the store keepers dismay. She can't. She once tried selling a new product and got an answer like "I don't know the manufacturers of this product. How do I believe them?" She basically wasn't good with people. The store wasn't her place. Then there were other people around in the store. Mr Bhayankar Tapori, the overweight cashier at the store, and a staunch supporter of favoritism. By favoritism I mean he wanted to be the storekeeper's favourite. He never left any stone unturned, from complimenting Miss Chameli Devi to screaming at Dash in the crowded market, he did everything. Then there was Bimar Singh uncle who was forever sick. I still don't know what role he was supposed to play in the running of the market. But Bimar uncle was too sick to work. Oh! I forgot to mention about Akbaar chacha. He had all the information. If he thought something was missing, he would drive you nuts until you gave away the missing piece of information. Last but not the least were Chand bhai and Chupchap mausi. They were the cleaners of the store and good friends of Dash.

It was a dreary November morning when I heard the announcement. The hypocrite store owner had cooked up yet another nasty scheme. He had managed to convince the baniya too this time. "More people will come to our store this way. It will be good advertisement for our store." must have been what he had said. A scheme which offered new items in return of old items. Any item. Whether bought from this store or someplace else would just be exchanged for a new one. "Brothers and sisters, with the help of this scheme I would like to encourage all you people to come and buy from our store instead of going to the middle man or the black market. I wish to convey this message to the whole J city that this market is for everyone. We do not differentiate people on any basis." was what he said to win over the council. All store employees were perplexed when they received a handbill describing the scheme. They were confused. "Simply give away new items?"they couldn't believe.

The scheme was supposed to begin on Sunday. As expected, almost the whole city had gathered at the store for their share of new loot. Tapori uncle who was extremely slack at work couldn't digest the fact that he would actually have to work instead of just flattering people. But he continued what he did best and avoided whatever he was weak at. Akbaar chacha worked without closing his mouth for a second. He had to keep a track of the brands and prices of the old items being deposited and issue new ones. He screamed, he shouted at everyone including the storekeeper. Cash was supposed to be received by Tapori uncle but he took that on himself as well. No not without reason. His intention was to leave early and stalk some girl in his village. Chupchap mausi took charge of handling the crowd at the store. Chand bhai ran all the miscellaneous errands.

All this turbulence while Dash was away at Timbuktu. It was her first holiday in two and a half years and she was blissfully unaware. Naturally someone had to take over her place then. It had to be none other than Chameli Devi. Poor girl. Alone in such adversity you might think. But as I had said earlier Chameli Devi was gifted. She could handle any situation very cleverly and this was no exception. It was the second day after the launch of this scheme. A guy was spotted approaching by Chameli Devi. She felt irritation rising up in her head. Her tensions began.
"How will I dodge him?"she thought.
It took her exactly one second to think of a genius dodge. She opened a drawer and buried her head inside. It did not prove a great hit as it didn't deter the guy from approaching Chameli Devi. She could hear his footsteps. By now sweat started pouring out from her forehead.
"Now what?"
She hurriedly pulled out the second drawer while the first was still open. She searched for as long as she heard footsteps. Tension built up inside her. Finally the sound of the footsteps stopped. The dude was right in front of Chameli Devi with a brand new pack of Cornflakes in hand. Chameli Devi closed her eyes for a second. She felt her mind go numb with "now what?" anxiety. She paused, repeated the words "calm down dear, you need to think" inside her head and pretended to keep searching. In the meanwhile the cornflakes guy stared with all attention that he could muster on our searching girl. She could by now almost feel the attention he bestowed on her. Chameli Devi threw a sharp and worried "I swear I had put the Kohinoor diamond right here" glance at the dude. The cool dude felt a mixture of sympathy and guilt and waited.

"I can pretend to search for sometime but not very long. Sometime now or a little later they will ask me what they want. There must be a way out,"was something she might have thought.

In the meanwhile another guy with a bag full of vegetables saw him waiting and started waiting himself. Another girl threw a glance at the two waiting dudes and immediately joined the bandwagon. More people joined them all while Chameli Devi searched for her Kohinoor in three simultaneously open drawers. It became a party for them. A gathering of so many people at a single point in the store. Many got friendly and start chatting. Chameli Devi was still raking her brains. This time there would have to be a lasting solution to her problem. Plans were building up inside her head like a castle. First she started with a vague misty form, then developed it to a solid structure. She had even imagined the type and size of rocks that were used for the construction. She was almost there adorning her castle with fountains, grass and gargoyle while some introvert amongst them started coughing in a bid to catch Chameli Devi's attention. The irritation had by now grown to be more intense and Chameli Devi was almost completed with the layering of her grass within the castle and the shape of the gargoyle. "Beautiful" she thought and stopped pretending to search, brought out the phone from her pocket, made (what seemed to be) a very important call and left the crowded party for some isolated corner. The jabbering at the party grew louder. On any normal day this irritated party would go join a "steadily getting our job done" party surrounding Dash (much to her irritation). The two parties together would make more noise and scream more often. Dash often told me that her instinct then was to throw the computer, her chair and the table at those jabbering, screaming and complaining people. But that would cost her her job. So she remained quiet and tried to answer their queries in the shortest way possible. But today there was no Dash. The jabbering party moved over from jabbering to complaining. Then from complaining to shouting. Then they shouted loud enough for the storekeeper to hear. Mr Gendalal came out rushing. He heard then called for Chameli Devi. Chameli devi returned with her worked out, stressed and "where did the Kohinoor go" expression.
"Where were you?" Gendalal asks like a concerned parent.
"I just don't understand. How much am I supposed to do? I have to attend to them also, eat my meals also, make my own phone calls. I don't even have time to stand up! You understand right?"
Without any further question Gendalal attended to each and every member of the party himself and gave "some much needed" relief to Chameli Devi.

Later that day I remembered that I forgot my purse. I tried to recollect where I had kept it last. I played the whole day inside my head. I was there watching Chameli Devi, then I went to the Sale Section and made a call, then I tried more tops and came out. After that I did not see my phone. So it must be lying somewhere there, I concluded. It was late. I did not expect to find the store open but thought there could be no harm checking. To my surprise the front gate was still open. The lights were out. Only the storekeeper's room emitted a fluorescent yellow. I turned on my mobile torch and started searching for my purse. I targeted the bucket of tried clothes first. I might have dumped the dress as well as phone together. I searched and found a United Colors of Benetton top that I had tried earlier that day. I unwrapped it and found my phone inside. Imagine my happiness! I was so happy. I wanted to rush out and declare to the world that I found my phone. But I controlled myself and started walking towards the entrance.

I had just reached the electronics section when I heard an angry female voice coming from the storekeeper's room. Curiosity got the better of me and I decided to sneak and listen. The voice belonged to none other than Chameli Devi.

"It was so irresponsible of Dash to not be here at this time. Not knowing that such a scheme would be launched should not be an excuse"

"True" said the storekeeper's voice. His voice seemed as if he was repeating words he was supposed to utter in a mesmerized state.

"There is so much burden on us now! Who will do all this?"

"You are right"

"Sir, how can I cope up with all this? So much pressure! I can't take this anymore." she sounded more seductive than worried to me this time.

"Don't worry. I will be there with you."

"Thank you so much, Sir. We will teach that Dash a lesson for taking this leave."

I don't know if they had heard me or they were just moving around I the room. But I ran to the safety of the dim lit streets in fear of being caught. Dash joined in another two days. She noticed a few changes but didn't learn anything exceptional. Chameli Devi now stopped searching drawers and sat with the storekeeper and gossiped all day. Dash attended all the customers- angry, kind, good, cunning etc. Her party grew bigger day by day. She came to meet me always more tired than the previous day. Finally we couldn't even continue meeting. I must admit that Chameli Devi built a beautiful castle that day.

Season of the Year

                                                              


This is probably my third article on the rains. There is a reason for the rainy season being one of my favourite seasons (except when I get stranded in some place away from home due to water-logging). Every season can be felt by just one parameter -temperature, the rainy season can be felt in so many other ways. It is one season which we can feel, experience and see too! We feel hot in summer, but summer never gave us any new sort of experience. You can't tell a summer day from a winter day just by looking at a picture of an empty road. But monsoons are different. They come as a relief for the earth from the scorching heat or freezing cold, they make the nature happier when they arrive. Just look around you on a rainy day. Happy children, extra green nature and a sober sky (you do find dark and scary clouds or maybe even lightning. But i guess by now we have made peace with them). You experience a freshness in everything. The beaches, the lakes, the forests or even the cities, nothing remains the same anymore. There is a sudden splash of brightness in everything around you after the very first shower. All this happens only during the rains. So if you are tired of the sun beating down on your face throughout the year in India then this is the right time for you to take a stroll outside. I am sure the water droplets caressing your soft face will be a very welcome change. Even sitting indoors and watching others getting wet is a superb idea now. So enjoy it either way. :)



Well I have two good friends in my neighbourhood. I guess they are  the ones who enjoy this season to the best. It all happened yesterday. I had an off as it was a Sunday so I could join them in their celebration of the monsoons. The first rains of the season. It was exactly what they deserved after a long, sultry, uncomfortable and harsh summer. The rains.


The smallest of my friends (pardon me because I only know them by their size. I have no clue about their age or names as they have been here long before me) popularly known as taru or Kochu in Bengali seemed to be the happiest of all. The whole gang flushed with joy as the first raindrops fell on them. They just couldn't get enough of playing with the water droplets! Even you can see the joy in their leaves! :)

the wet leaves

                                       
                         See how green they have become!

                 This one is just trying to hold as much water as possible!

Its really a wonderful feeling to see your friends so rejuvenated after such a long time!

After them I turned to the baby coconut tree in front of my window. I have always been scared of coconut trees since childhood. So huge and tall! If I were asked "define a mature and strong adult with respect to trees" then my answer without any second thoughts would be the coconut trees. The tall ones looking tired and unhappy for days, burning in the sun yet providing us cool coconut juices. They are the first ones to take in the harsh sun rays so that we can stay cool. As a kid, just as I was scared of my mother, I was scared of the coconut tree. But this one in front of my house is different. It is a livelier and a smaller version. It looks happy enough to play all children's games, happy enough to ignore the fact that many of its good friends were cut down by human beings for their own selfish needs. It was enjoying the droplets falling on its leaves only to slide them down!

can you see the tree feeling the water droplets on it?

It didn't stop its game after the rain ceased. It looked up at the sky and asked for more.

it gathered many friends in its endeavour too!

When it didn't work it started another game. It send the tiny droplets it had preseved during the rains down to the pond beneath. Those  tiny droplets created ripples throughout the pond! I guess it had great fun doing that. See for yourself!

ripples in the pond

I am sure others enjoyed the day too. I couldn't catch up with everybody but these new friends sure had some gala time.

I would have liked to think the same about humans but they were busy scampering from one shelter to another with umbrella in hand as if one vicious drop would melt them. :P ;)

So my message to all living things -- Good things shouldn't last long and so Rainy season is a very short season in Kolkata. Enjoy it till it lasts. But of course... Stay safe... :)


Thanks for taking out time to read this :)

One of the twenty two months!

21st July was a nervous morning. It was my first day at work. I got up early, finished my breakfast and rushed to the regional office with all documents that carried any sort of description about me. I spend that one day waiting to know which branch would be allotted to me. I spend the next day also waiting... Two and a half days later I got my branch.

The afternoon of the 23rd of July was a dull and rainy one. I had to report to my branch before 4:00pm. I was welcomed with smiles. I had just started exploring the branch when I noticed that I had approximately thirty vouchers waiting on my table. Every  minute's delay brought in more and more vouchers. I guess the customers blamed their fate that day for the delay in getting their work done. I saw many of them go out of the branch red faced.

Two days (difficult days) had passed in the branch when I got the news of our manager's transfer. One week later the cool guy left for the North-East with a heavy heart leaving us to face all credit worthy problems. We were riddled with thousands of problems and queries. Everyday a new problem would arise from nowhere.
First day we learnt that we were now the sole authority of closing the shutter of the branch (it is quite heavy).
Second day we received news about the death of a very generous customer (it accompanied the hassles of settling a death claim without a bank nominee).
Third day another customer threatened us with dire consequences if his demands were not met with. Fourth day we received another death claim(this was a easy one though).
We had just learned to ignore all problems and live carefree when the fifth day shocked us and gave our hard earned "we-dont-care" approach a jolt. It was the news about a ZIC inspection.

For the next four days we became like obedient children to the inspector. Our roles were dual. Managing the branch and serving the inspector. All that he asked for was immediately done. First day was uneventful. We obeyed dutifully. Second day brought a few hassles in managing the branch staff. Third day the branch almost caught fire. 😞 Some important electric wire that took load off the other wires had melted, putting extra pressure on the rest of the wires which were already melting. This was the reason for the permanent burning smell emanating from the circuit box. Electricians were summoned and tenders collected. But nothing melted the hearts of the branch keepers. They wanted cheaper tenders, they expected us to bargain more and if necessary roast ourselves in the fire that was waiting to engulf the branch.

Our inspector by now had taken over as our guardian. A few phone calls later some good for nothing electrician had finally taken over the matter on himself. He took one day to fix the problem and next day more than half of our branch plunged into darkness.

The seeds of our next chapter was already sown during the short circuit issue. One day of darkness became too much to bear. Reactions did not come immediately. They poured at the first best opportunity. It involved the unions and men with muscular tongues 😈.  We swallowed everything. Stories of our struggles had by now spread far and wide. We became the talk of every branch, 'two young "children" tortured at branch'. Such sympathy ensured it was our last adventure. Within a week we got a new branch manager. I worked with her for a year and working with her proved a lot more eventful than my first month for all the wrong reasons again😐.

A Fort Made For Us

We are not joking… It is quite true. A truth that is difficult for most people to accept.There is a fort that is built specially for us. Our fort is built at a height of 120 meters with an outer wall that is 10 km long. It was built between the years 945 CE and 970 CE(isn’t that really cool!). History says that our fort was in use even in the year 1143 AD. It was built by the great kings of the Hindu Kakatiya Dynasty. They originally built a mud fort (we offer our deepest gratitude to them as we feel that taking an initiative is always the toughest part of any job). Notwithstanding the simplicity of the fort it was conquered by the Islamic Bahmani Sultanate. After their collapse the fort went into the hands of The Qutub Shahi Kings.These kings obliged us even further by extending and renovating the mud fort into a massive fort of granite. It took them sixty two years to do that (we thank the Qutub Shahi Kings for their perseverance. Had they not been there we probably would never come to know of the fort’s existence). Finally the fort fell into the hands of Mughal Emperor Aurangazeb after a siege (our fort has really been through difficult times!).

Henceforth our precious and dear fort shall be known as The Golconda Fort (as it has always been called).

 

Today we will be taking you through the journey of Dash (me) and Man’s(my best friend) first expedition into the fort.

Entrance

We entered through the Fateh Darwaza (Victory Gate). History says that about a thousand years back  Aurangazeb’s triumphant army had marched in through this very gate. Almost a thousand years later we enter this very same gate and declare victory over a number of guides who claimed to know everything about our own fort (just imagine!).

 

Just four steps into the fort and we wanted to take them back. Reasons are mentioned below -

• It was too hot out there.
• The sun was too harsh to bear
• We had a fear of getting burnt
• There was a pest of a guy who claimed we were so different from the others in the fort and wondered if we would join him…

We felt defeated. We forgot the very purpose of our trip to the fort. We planned our retreat and decided to stay in the shade till fate shows us a way further. But planning a retreat was not easy. We had the whole day to ourselves with nothing else to do. Then finally we decided to stay at the ground level of the fort exploring all the shady areas inside.

Man took charge of deciphering and explaining the mystery behind the very existence of the huge room or hall or conference inside the fort.

 

The first stretch of cave like rooms with windows on top leading to a new room became the kitchen.

“See the chefs of the olden days cooked down here. They just simply passed on the dishes to the waiters from these windows.” she explained.

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Thus the first floor became dining room of the ancients.

 

The Discovery

The kitchen at the ground floor led us to the dining hall on the first floor. The dining hall on the first floor led us to a flight of ruined staircase. The ruined staircase led us to another desolated  structure.

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It was then we realized that we were in the following situation -

• The staircase is too damaged to climb back down until we are ready to meet death.
• The building was too scary to enter.

To add to our ordeal a mushy couple had just followed us all along making it unbearable for us to stay there. Now we had to take a decision (that too a quick one).

We chose to explore the building in front of us.

It was stinky, dark and scary inside but fortunately the exit was just a turn and a few steps away. The exit opened up into a thorny and bushy way.

We thought we were lost in this huge fort. Then we noticed people going up at a distance and our hearts leapt up with excitement.

 

On our way to the palace!

It turned out that we actually found a shortcut when we had given up all hopes. We could see the palace from here. Now the palace was just a few steps away from us. A magnificently carved stone structure overlooking the city of Hyderabad!

 

Nothing could stop us from reaching the top now. Neither the blazing sun, nor the scorching ground mattered anymore. All that mattered was reaching the palace. We were determined to be there. Our only distraction was the beautiful view of green and white Hyderabad which we assumed could be found from the palace too.

The palace was right in front of us. A few more steps and we will be standing in front of the structure. Our hearts could not believe that now we are going to visit a royal place.A place of utmost importance (in the earlier days), where the kings and the queens lived!

A few steps further and all our excitement was washed down. The structure we thought to be the palace was actually a very beautiful mosque. The palace, we learnt, was further up.

The Palace

 

 

 

“Dash! These steps are so awkward! I can’t climb up any further.”

“Blame it on erstwhile corruption. Those people must have carved such difficult steps to save material.”

“No re… They were not intelligent enough to know about corruption. After all it is the hot topic of our generation. Founded in our generation. Those people were not corrupt”

“Then why such stairs?”

We both fell silent for a while. After all what could be the reason for having such complicated stairwells. The answer did not come easily to us, but when it did we laughed at its simplicity-

Do you guys think there were gyms in the good old days?

No. Right?

Then what else could the king do to have a fit queen? (not to mention his own waistline)

Such conversations kept us going and before we could even realize we were close to the palace(our second assumption of the day). It was really a castle in bad shape. But there were people all over the place. So we concluded this must be the palace.

The walls of the palace were full of confessions (it was difficult to understand the emotions behind them… but we assume they must have been intense enough to have been given importance over this historic structure ).

Although we were in a position where we could not give much thought to the writings on the walls. We had noticed something far more intense than that. Someone had gone up to the ceiling to confess(it was quite high).

 

We saw many people looking out of the window and remembered the view of Hyderabad

We too decided to go to one of the secluded windows and look down.

The view was really breathtaking! A stretch of green and white lay before us.

Man declared that she was the erstwhile queen of this palace.

It took the erstwhile queen and her best friend ten whistles of warning from the security guard to move from that place.

 

Secrets in our Fort

We all love having secrets within ourselves but dislike secrets being kept from us. Same was the case with us. We were furious when we were not allowed to venture into one of the castles. We wanted to know the reason but no one came up with one. This enraged us even further.

Our inference – We must explore the other hidden corners for any sort of fishy practices.

So we found another isolated spot with no one around. No one to stop us.

We came back the same way we entered (it was too dark and scary inside).

 

Happy Ending

A few selfies and a few pictures later we stopped exploring and joined the path that everyone was following. It led us to the exit of the fort. Probably everyone out there was tired like us after going through the fort. After all it is their fort too. The fort that was specially built for Man, Dash and everyone to visit at a later date.

Rabin sir

If you are not Rabin sir then you are a trespasser reading this post. In case you do not know Rabin sir then you do not know much about me. He taught me the basics of banking in a way no one else must ever have taught anyone. He also took the pains to teach me Bengali numbers (though I still cannot speak them myself but now I can understand them... all Thanks to Sir :) ).

I was uncomfortable with the idea of visiting a bank since my childhood (including my training period at Bangalore for banking and finance) and during my training at Bangalore I was filled with stories of cruel managers torturing trainees (some of those stories still exist).

I was really nervous on my first day at bank due to the above reasons, almost frozen. You made me comfortable in the bank. You not only taught me theories in banking, but also gave me a good idea about the bigger picture and how to deal with situations. I could not have been in a better situation than this. Thank You for guiding me just like how my father would have if he were in your place. I wish you all happiness and luck for your future. Wish you a very happy retired life. :)

P.S. - Stories like "the burning ghat" and how you moved your friend's cycle will always be remembered by me. Thank you for sharing them. I will always be reminded of you whenever I hear words like "pachattor".  :)