Journey from Guwahati to Machhiwara Read online

  Notion Press

  5 Muthu Kalathy Street, Triplicane,

  Chennai - 600 005

  First Published by Notion Press 2015

  Copyright © Rajiv Bakshi 2015

  All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-64324-700-7

  This book has been published in good faith that the work of the author is original. All efforts have been taken to make the material error-free. However, the author and the publisher disclaim the responsibility.

  No part of this book may be used, reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  The Book is dedicated to my parents

  M M Bakshi & Kiran Bakshi and my wife Mrinalini. Special thanks to my son Tarun who helped me in editing the book and to my daughter in law Chhavi for the images she clicked specially for the Book.

  Special thank you note for the team of Notion Press Chennai who worked whole heartedly to convert my dream project into reality.

  I would like to thank Almighty for His unstinted support to me.

  Foreword

  My cousin, Rajiv the banker, is now Rajiv the writer!

  After a successful career as a banker that took him to places across the length and breadth of the country, Rajiv has turned some of his experiences into short stories.

  You, dear reader, are in for a treat! The stories are short and evocative, and you can consume them like sweet or savory snacks--sample a few or many!

  In these stories are reflected the day to day lives of relatives/families/friends just like yours or mine. Every now and then you may get a jolt of recognition of the fun and frolic with friends and family, and perhaps their foibles too.

  I thoroughly enjoyed the stories, and know that you will as well.

  Prof. Rakesh Gupta (& former Dean)

  Adelphi University Garden City, NY

  February 2015

  Preface

  How did the idea to write Journey from Guwahati to Machhiwara took place ? The day 29 Feb 2012 I retired from my favourite Punjab & Sind Bank, I did not know what to do on subsequent days after the retirement. There was no hurry to catch the bus to Samrala, Heddon or Machhiwara. There was no job to book air tickets to Srinagar or railway tickets to Jammu or Guwahati. The only work on my first day after retirement was to SLEEP soundly.

  I recollected that I had written a poem Sleep when I was eight years old in Sainik School Kapurthala and the poem got published in the school magazine. This was the first time I saw my name in print. Then there was a gap of 35 long years when I was busy in pursuing my Post Graduation in English from DAV college Jallandhar. After a stint of two years in college teaching English Grammar & Shakespeare it was a long Journey in second class compartment from Ludhiana to Guwahati in train where I read Khuswant Singhs Train to Pakistan. During the free time in Bank the spark to write short stories took place. I vouch that all stories I wrote were published in my Banks PSB House Journal. After retirement I was encouraged to write my memoirs by my wife Mrinalini who is also Post Graduate in Literature but in a different stream. My son Tarun & daughter in law Chhavi who work in California in USA encouraged me to write more stories. They helped me editing all the stories and each story must have been edited innumerable times to make the stories readable for the readers. As such started my Second innings as an author of Journey from Guwahati to Machhiwara. Happy Reading to my unknown friends, colleagues from Bank & my relatives.

  Contents

  Foreword

  Preface

  1. Sleep

  2. My First Day in Gauhati – Start of the First Innings

  3. Encounter with Wasps

  4. I Wish I Were Your Shaveta

  5. The Indian Love Story

  6. The Samjhauta Express

  7. Me and My Mobile

  8. Resolutions are Made to be Broken

  9. Husbands – Beware Do Not Shop

  10. Birthdays, Marriage Anniversary & Karva Chauth

  11. Morning Tea @8.12 am

  12. The Good Samaritan

  13. Happiness is But an Occasional Episode in the General Drama of Pain

  14. The Face Book Friends

  15. Love & Hate Relationship

  16. One More Reason to Fight

  17. MBA after VRS

  18. My Friend Ila

  19. Sweet Temptations

  20. The Last Ride Together

  Sleep

  Oh My dear please come, I want to sleep

  I have worked a lot today, now I want to sleep

  The time you come is very less, I want an ample of time

  Please accept my humble request, I promise I will never forget you!!

  My First Day in Gauhati – Start of the First Innings

  Never in my life I thought that my first job will be in a Bank dominated by community of Sikh people – the most friendly people I have ever met and that too about 2200 Km from my home town: Jallandhar. Those were the days when the trains were not super fast and it used to take around 60 hours to reach Guwahati from Jallandhar. At that time Guwahati was spelled as Gauhati. I clearly remember the date I reached Gauhati - December 24 1976 – start of my first innings in professional life. As a young ambitious boy of 24, leaving his parents, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts and all others who come in a joint family and then travel in a second class compartment is now hard to imagine – both travelling in second class and living in joint family.

  I had never been to Punjab & Sind Bank before I joined this Bank as an Officer Trainee in Fancy Bazar Gauhati. After taking a rickshaw from the railway station I was heading to a new job - my first and that too in a new environment, new people, new place and no friends and no acquaintance. I am talking about 1976 when no one had heard about facebook and whatsapp so I could not tell my loved ones of my whereabouts every minute and no snap chat to share the pictures of my exciting train journey. After working 35 years in this Bank and having traveled abroad to ten countries I have very few real good friends but a whole lot of facebook friends.

  I reached my bank gate where I was greeted by the bank’s guard – an ex Serviceman. But I did not dare to ask his name for the first fortnight. Such was his personality – His army looks and well built body with a gun in his hand at all times, approaching him to make a friendly conversation seemed to be a daunting task. Then I was told by Kuldeep Singh Grewal, a young Officer from Narangwal that the guard’s name was Shamsher Singh - a name which suited his personality.

  The day came when I mustered the courage to speak with Shamsher Singh - I had practiced the likely conversation in front of the mirror at least a dozen times. Ofcourse it did not go as I had envisioned. The only thing which went as per my rehersal was to say hello and mentioned him my name. And after that was a bombardment of questions, one after the other, like an army general has ordered his battalion to start the continuous rounds of fires. From where I had come? How many family members? What is my father’s occupation? My Qualification? What prompted me to join this Bank and not some other Bank? Did I always wanted to be a banker? Since I had studied in Sainik school, why did I not join army? But I must say the interview was tough and much more interesting than my previous interview in Sunder Nagar, New Delhi – my interview for the job.

  From the gate I was escorted by one peon to the second most powerful man in the Branch. He was Dev Singh, Sikh gentleman from Ludhiana. He was the Second Man of the Branch. Dev Singh was surrounded by a large battery of employees named Gurbachan Singh, Baldev Singh, Jagdev Singh Saini, Devinder Singh Gulati, Gurmit Singh Taneja & Gurmit Singh Bhutani. Later in the week I came to know that the Second Man had the power to
grant Casual leave, Earned leave, light seat of the bank and sometimes a bit of furlough. Only he had to be kept Happy. Since it was my first job I had to call every one as Sir and had to be most courteous. I opened my bag and distributed all the sweets I had brought from Lovely Sweets Jallandhar. The entire staff, including me relished the desi ghee sweets and for a moment we all thought we were in Punjab in a sweet shop enjoying the rich sweets instead of being in one of the Seven Sisters States - Assam. One of them made a comment that enjoy the sweets for the celebration that another murga has joined the Bank.

  It was then my turn to get introduced to the Branch Manager - Kanwaljit Singh Kathuria. I was told to first gently knock at the Cabin of Branch Manager and be ready for yet another interview – tougher than the one I had in morning with Shamsher singh. The staff was terribly afraid of him. If Mr Kathuria called any one in his cabin, the blood pressure of that employee would go up. He had a typical habit of adjusting his spectacles whenever he wanted to emphasize a point. Some of the staff members had kept a list of excuses to be told to Mr Kathuria when ever he called the staff in his cabin. The list of excuses was neatly typed by the Steno and was in everybody’s pocket.

  K S Kathuria my first Branch Manager heard me patiently and I told him about my family background and my Qualification and extra circular activities. Since my father was also in a different Bank he developed a soft corner for me from the very outset. On the very first day I was given the duty to prepare Drafts. The drafts were to be prepared manually. I prepared about 70 Drafts and whenever I got the Drafts prepared of Ludhiana or Jallandhar I got emotional. Only the person who has worked in such a far place will know the reason for this. In many of the Drafts the payee was wrongly written and in some cases the amount in words and figures were written wrong by the customers which had to be corrected as well.

  During the lunch break I got friendly with Jaspal Singh Pinky and went to a nearby Dhaba to have lunch. The food in Paltan Bazar Gauhati was not of Punjabi taste. There was salt even in chappatis. This was the time to remember the comforts of home and I become even more homesick.

  I was free from the Bank at 8 pm. It looked as if I was out of the JAIL. There was no place for me to stay. With a meager stipend of Rupees 500 per month I could not afford a decent hotel. Most of our Bank employees stayed in a Gurdwara in Fancy Bazar opposite the Bank. I was taken to the Gurdwara by Jagdev Singh Saini and was huddled in a room shared by five or six Sikh gentlemen.

  The next day was Christmas and it was a Bank Holiday. But the poor staff had to be present in the Bank. My colleagues from Punjab were getting ready and I had to help them when they were getting their turbans tied. In the local Punjabi dialect it is called Puni. That was the toughest part then. But now after attending so many trainings, I have become skilled in doing the Puni.

  The same day my Big Boss Kathuria had to go to Delhi for official work. He told me to come with him to the Airport in his car to see him off. I was so happy to go out of the Bank and see the Brahmputra Valley. All the HOME SICK staff of the Bank used to loiter in the streets of Gauhati and they used to go to the Railway Station especially on Saturdays and Sundays to kill their time. The arrival of the train from Punjab cheered us. And the departure of the train to Punjab made us melancholic. Every one wished they could take the first train back to their home town. HOW MUCH WE LONGED TO GO BACK TO OUR HOME TOWN! BUT IT WAS NOT TO BE!

  Being the night of Christmas, Iqbal singh had invited us for tea – We Punjabi’s don’t need a reason for a party anyways. Some of us decided to walk to his house while Iqbal Singh had taken Gurmit Singh Bhutani on his cycle to his home to reach before us to help his wife with some preperations. On the way Iqbal Singh had bought some sweets. While sitting on the back seat Bhutani had consumed three fourth of the sweets on the way., while enjoying a cycle ride with his friend. When Iqbal Singh wife served the Barfi there were just four small pieces left. What an embarrassment it was for Iqbals wife. But we didn’t mind and neither did Iqbal singh as he knew who was the culprit and who will be made the scapegoat to foot the money for tickets for watching the night show of Romeo & Juliet.

  One can never forget ones first job and ones First Boss. It is not like the present age when the Software Engineer changes job from Infosys to Apple to IBM in a span of ten years. The older generation like us did not have the risk taking capacity to leave one job and go for the other job. After Retirement one really misses the hectic life one has had while traveling in buses, trains, auto rickshaw, taxis and planes. I had great respect for my first Branch Manager Mr Kanwaljit Singh Kathuria of Gauhati. Now the staff of my last Branch Machhiwara District Ludhiana can only tell what they think of me as a Branch Manager ? Thus ends my JOURNEY in the Bank from Guwahati to Machhiwara. With the publication of this book, starts my second innings as a writer !

  Encounter with Wasps

  Once bitten twice shy. I had been bitten by wasps not once but three or four times for the past four years. While commuting even with the helmet firmly placed on my head, the wasps have bitten some times on the cheek and sometimes on the chin. The village doctor had treated me free of cost and had given 3-4 tablets to be repeated three or four times for a day or two. But this time the story was different.

  After being transferred from a village branch of bank I joined a branch in an industrial area of a city. I thought my ordeal with wasps was over. I was happy that now whether I wear a helmet or not, the wasps would not trouble me. But that was not to be.

  I was nominated for training for 12 days at Chandigarh in a prestigious institute. In fact I was nominated in place of another person who could not be spared due to exigencies of work. I was happy that it will be a good change for me after working so hard in a village branch.. The training started in a hi-fi manner. The main aim of the training was Motivation and how to develop leadership qualities. The training started at 7.00 am in the morning with yoga classes and ended at 8.30 pm.

  Two days passed very quickly and everyone was beginning to get motivated. On the third day the pre lunch session was that of an industrialist who was telling his story from rags to riches. All the participants were thinking of emulating him.

  And then it was 1.30 pm. The lunch was ready. The Director of the institute – a jolly good old man of 60 along with his industrialist friend and 25 participants proceeded towards the lawn where lunch was to be served. The van of “Mehfil” was standing outside the institute. Soup was ready to be served. The menu of the day was nicely written. God knows what, but what I remember is only “ROMALI ROTI”. The top entrepreneur of Chandigarh did not take soup but started with the food alongwith “Romali Roti”. The preparation of “Romali Roti” is a treat to watch. The young Nepali Gorkha boy of around 20 with his head smartly covered with a red apron was flouting “Romali Roti” to a height of around 2 meters. The fire was burning under a tree. A young participant did not like the height of 2 meters for roti. He said to the Nepali Gorkha: higher.

  This is what I heard. At 1.35 pm I was lying on the ground. In a matter of seconds, the wasps had attacked all the participants. It must have been more than 200 wasps who surrounded the 500 meters lawn within a twinkle of eye. I do not know how the other ran for safety. But what struck me that since the wasps had literally surrounded me the best course for me was to lie on the ground. I thought my six years stay in a Sainik School will come to my rescue and I had learnt lot of motivation from my director and other high dignitaries within 2-3 days.

  The wasps were biting me on my head, on my wrist, on my cheek, on my fingers and on all my parts of the body which were uncovered. Thank God I was wearing a sweater as it was winter. Not less than 60 wasps were over my body. I tried to push them away with my hand. But the more I pushed the more stings I received.

  Since I was on the ground, I thought that the best course for me was to crawl for safety till the reception room of our institute. I was surprised at the participants that they had not come to my rescue. What was the use of training which was being
imparted to them? I looked for an opening and tried to jump but what I saw was a 10 feet gorge. I thought I will break my leg.

  I crawled and crawled and finally mustered all my courage and ran towards the main building. Then the whole action started. The Director of the Institute took full control of the situation. He pulled out a bed sheet lying on a table and wrapped the bed sheet around me. Then he gave a good thrashing to me which resulted in killing of around 20-30 wasps.

  When I got a chance to look at my hand, I was flabbergasted. They looked to be hands of a WWF champion. The hospitality incharge warden brought an Avil and I galloped it down my throat.

  An ambulance was arranged within 5 minutes. Five participants agreed to accompany me to the hospital. They were themselves bitten by the wasps. On reaching the hospital the first thing the doctor did was to check my B.P. and the heart beat. Then the doctor said that intravenous injections will be given. I cried for help. Never before in life had I been given intravenous injection. My friend Bhupi-a sturdy Jat Sikh from my city abused me and told me not to cry like a babe. The nurse caught hold of me and intravenous injection was given to me. And then started the “plucking out of stings”. I counted myself there were around 60 stings mostly on my head, arms, cheek, wrist and one string on my thigh. I just fail to understand how my thigh was bitten by wasps.

  After that started my return journey. I became a hero overnight. All the participants, Director, teachers, employees came to enquire about my welfare. The scene of lunch had now been shifted inside the dining room. I had a full share of meals along with “Romali Roti”. After having my grub I was down for a day with severe nausea, vomiting, diarrhea and slight temperature. God knows how many times the local staff of the institute including the Director came to ask about how I was feeling.