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This is a guest post by Debapriya Mukherjee. The views expressed are entirely of the author.
I saw the station name,after Hindi and English there were some 6 Jalebis (odhiya scripts) drawn on the board.I observed the advertising boards.There were Jalebis everywhere.
Hope the peoples are not the same, sweet but complex.The autowala was speaking some dangerously distorted version of Bengali(for an Odhiya Bengali will mean the same). After a healthy bargaining he agreed in 150rs.I boarded an auto with my cumbersome trolley.The air-shot was already fired in the race of struggling, the only difference was the shooter used a silencer in his gun. The saga continued,I was the last person to enter the residency allotted to us.My college-mates had already occupied the nice rooms, the smallest room was left for us.I liked the room.It was a room with three beds.My calculation told that anyway you place the beds, the room will look equally small.Hence,I consoled my mind.
One of my room-mate was a boy from my college, kind of jealous-studious type of guy.The other one was also from my college.He looked like an aged Nepali.He was looking very tensed because somehow he came to know, he can't pass the EC exams without notes and laptops.Unfortunately, he didn't have any of the two.
There were some guys who joined the training before us.One of them was my hostel-mate and a "never smoke never booze" kind of guy. He had a very good reputation for his "whatever food is left in Kitchen that's mine" type attitude.But I found him slim and trimmed here.I was feeling the pressure.Those guys came and started explaining the rules.The rules to secure our future, the rules to cross the hurdle of the first exam.Only five associates had passed in the last exam from the whole batch.The bottom 2% will be given two chances, and if you miss those chances you may book a return ticket. We had our dinner in a nearby hotel.The food was so tasty to eat, so we almost dumped it into the waste pot.I was missing my maggi, the only cooking pride for maximum bachelor.
That night I had a dream.I was selling tea in the station, my friends were coming to my stall to have some tea.Suddenly the pink-top girl came with a Herbert Schildt book in her hand.I advised her to read Ivor Horton.She got shocked thinking how a tea stall guy can know about Java? Even I started coding to design a tea-stall management system.Suddnely I saw my mother coming towards me with a stick in my hand, saying "That is why I asked you to study..", and I closed the stall and boarded the train for Kolkata.The train whistled, it was a different sound, like some "Ti ti ti ti ti ti ti ti..."
I woke up, the watch us indicating 5 am.The studious guy was almost ready and chanting something with his eyes fixed on the laptop.Over-pressurized jerks. The nepali faced guy was still snoring badly. His condition reminded me of hopeless Robinson Crusoe on the island.
I found the water chilling cold. Somehow I managed bathing.What more I need to do for some money? I realized one more time that money is the only thing for which we forcefully do the tasks that we hate the most.The formal dress with a tie was one of them.
I simply don't know the functionality of a tie and its knots.Its like sophisticated and portable gallows pole.It was hot outside, still we had to wear it.
Photo sessions were going on. Everyone was taking snaps of each other.Probably they were capturing "The last moment with a natural smile". The bus came, like our last night's food the bus was also a bullshit.
We started for Kalinga park.