The Canteen boy

Many a times we tend to get carried away by the aura imparted by our professions – be it a software engineer, a businessman or a celebrity – and we often tend to think we are fenced off by some sort of divinity with the rest of them who are less fortunate than us – who doesn't have the luxury of a/c cabins at their workplace, who have to work day and night cleaning tables and wiping floors in order to support their family. It’s a pity that we often treat people based on their professions.



It is my routine to have my daily supper from the Infopark canteen rather than bringing it from home, though everyday I travel to work from my home. This week happens to be a ‘dosa-special’ week in the canteen (last week it was ‘Goan-food-fest’). My colleague and I, like many others who visited the canteen last eve, placed our orders for ‘masala dosa’. We never get ‘masala dosa’ on regular days. After purchasing a token, we usually have to wait at the delivery counter for a while before the food was delivered. Last evening as we were waiting for our food, the man who was standing adjacent to us started shouting at the canteen-boy. As I had never seen that boy there before, I gathered he is new to the place. The angry man said he had been waiting for long after placing his order for a ‘masala dosa.’ I noticed his tag – TCS – probably he must be a project delivery head or something of that sort – because he had a bald head, and his tummy gave an impression as if, inside his stomach, an open-umbrella had been placed horizontally pointed outwards. He was overreacting, expending his frustration at the poor canteen-boy, and the other people who were waiting at the counter were stunned by his behaviour.


My colleague had just then received his ‘masala dosa’ and was heading to one of the tables when he heard the man shouting at the poor boy. Hearing the vocal exercise of the furious guy, my colleague walked back to the boy and offered his plate with a smile and said he would wait till next, and told him to give it to the TCS chap. The boy, managing well to fight the little drop of tear from coming out of his eyes, gave the plate to the man whose face had turned pale by this time.



I felt the boy couldn’t have, in a more polite way, asked him to f**k off.


-Balu

Living on the Edge

During my college days in Coimbatore, I used to stay at the college hostel situated inside the college campus, and it was my practice to visit my home in Ernakulam every weekend. I would start from Coimbatore every Friday evening, and would return to the hostel by Monday morning. That Monday morning I boarded the Coimbatore super-fast from Ernakulam at 12.15 a.m, and arrived Ukkadam at around 5 in the morning. There was no proper plying of buses in the area where the hostel was situated, and I sat at the waiting shed in the bus stand, contemplating the thought of bunking my class next Friday so that I would be able to spend an extra day at home!

As I was waiting for the bus, I noticed another man sitting at the corner of the shed. A small plastic bag which he had been carrying fell off to the ground and I picked it up for him.

"Thank you," he said. I gave a slight nod of my head coupled with a smile, and suddenly realized that he was blind and couldn't see my response.

"That's okay," I said, converting my response into words. He said he too was waiting for bus no.3D, and I gathered that he is on his way to 'Kovai pudur.'

"What do you do?" he asked me.

"I am an engineering student at VLB," I said.

"What's your branch?"

"IT," I replied.

"Oh! So you belong to the group of people who are about to change the face of the nation. The country is advancing rapidly and everything is getting computerized," and he went on bit further, adding to my surprise how could a blind man be so knowledgeable on the technical advancements.

"Technology is evolving day by day," I said.

Just then the bus arrived and as we got up from the bench on the waiting shed, I noticed he had trouble in walking as well. I helped him board the bus which was almost empty, and he continued the conversation.

"You people have to put up with lot of pressure, isn't it? I guess the workload and deadlines would be trying your nerves a great deal!..The IT people are doing a great service building the country despite having to face such mental torture."

The bus reached Kovai pudur and we got down. I offered to assist him reach his place. By this time I was really getting curious to know more about him.

"What do you do for a living?" I asked finally, unable to withstand my curiosity.

"I was with the 13 J&K Rifles on duty at peak 4870 in Kargil. I had to leave the army after I lost my eyes and a leg." There was a brief silence as his words had stymied my speech.

Just then we turned a corner and he asked me if we had reached 'T.K.M. Complex.' "Thank You," he said, "It was nice meeting you. Wish you all the best with your studies." I found myself unequal to the pressure of the conversation, and was totally at a loss.

And later on in the day, the H.O.D was scolding our class as none of us had submitted the project-draft satisfactorily:

"You guys can't even submit a draft on time, I wonder how you are going to cope up with the work pressure in the future. Seems you haven't the idea how challenging your job is gonna be!"


-Balu

Memoir of a Journey

The city of Coimbatore, like any other city on the 31st of Dec, was all set to welcome the New Year, and there was noise and bustle all around. The train that was carrying him from Cochin to Coimbatore that morning was jam packed. It was 8.45 in the morning when it crossed Valayar-- the border between TamilNadu and Kerala-- and he sat adjacent to the window, watching the town vanish before him. It was after several years that he was now making a trip to Coimbatore, and his emotions crowded on recollection of those 4 years he had spent in Coimbatore for his engineering. This time the purpose of his visit was to meet his cousin Meera, a final year student of engineering in VLB -- where he studied long way back.

An hour and a quarter ate up the distance between Palakkad and Coimbatore, and the train now arrived at Coimbatore central. Inside the staton, business proceeded as usual. Bells rang, porters shouted, engine blew off the steam, baggage trucks rattled over the platform, and he made his way out of the station, got into a taxi and headed to Kovaipudur to meet Meera at her hostel. It was a slow ride, halted repeatedly by the congestion of the traffic. The cab drove past Ukkadam, Town Hall, Kuniamuthur- – the old roads which he had traveled long way back- – and with whooping swiftness, his memory raced back over the years. VLB College of Engineering&Technology was situated on the slope of a hill, and it had always been a matter of amusement for him to think of a college at a hill slope. He was now beginning to feel the kiss of the mountain breeze on his cheeks -- the same feeling which he had experienced during his routine strolls those evenings after class; and the voices of his classmates and teachers were revisiting his mind when suddenly a voice spoke from the front. 'Sir, we have reached the destination.' It was the cab driver who spoke, and he was cut off from his reveries like an alarm bell which wakes one up from his dreams.

The womens hostel where Meera stayed situated close to the college campus. Over a cup of coffee and snacks from the coffee-bar nearby, they struck upon a conversation.

'You know things are quite hectic these days,' Meera lamented, 'and the project work is really getting on to my nerves. Heaven alone knows how we're gonna finish it before the deadline. The whole thing has screwed up my Christmas-New Year plans and I have no other option but to spend my holidays here working with the project, while you guys are having a nice time back home!'

'Well, but there's still time left, isn't it? Moreover, you are four in a team,' he said.

'I suppose you can say we are four in a team, though we have a fifth member!'

'Eh! I didn't get you,' he said, puzzled.

'Besides Lulu Mol, Julie, Elsa and myself, we have a guy in our team who hardly utters a word! The shortest he says is 'mm' and the longest is 'mmmm!' she said, as they broke into laughter. He felt something knocking against his mind, like a visitor knocking the door, but seemed unable to place the visitor correctly.

'Should be tough dealing with Simultaneous-DNS-emulations on Sundays too. What are your plans for the evening?' he asked.

'Simulation-of-enumerator-DNS, thats the project title!' she corrected. 'Need to go to the college and see if the time table for the practicals has been put up in the noticeboard. Couldn't check it out last eve,' she added.

'Allright, I'll join you then,' he said, 'My train is only in the evening and I've got some time to kill. Moreover, it has been ages since I visited the college,' and they trotted along. 'By the way,' he asked,'why did you four choose to keep such a guy in your team if you can't get along with him?'

'No, we don't have any rift or anything of that sort. But for some strange reason he never interacts with anyone in our class, and I don't suppose he has got any friends either.'

'But haven't you guys tried to talk to him and figure out what's the trouble with him?'

'Ah! we fear he won't appreciate it. What if he feels we are trying to butt in to his personal issues? Instead of approaching us and telling us about it, he stays away from us despite we being his friends. And moreover it is a common human trait to show your friendly side to only those who are friendly to you, isn't it? Hardly anything can be done as he never responds in affable keys,' she replied.

'mm,' he uttered, and yet again he felt something tapping against his mind.

They were now standing at the main entrance of the college, and Meera's eyes gazed along the notice board for the time table for her practical examinations. 'They haven't put up the time table yet. Balettan, shall we move on?' she asked.

'You carry on. I'll have a stroll around the campus and then pop off.' he replied.

'All right then. Thanks again for coming along and lending me those books. It would really help me with my project.'

'Not at all. Good luck with your Simultaneous-emission-of-DNS-equations!'

'Simulation-of-enumerator-DNS it is! Huh!' she said smiling, 'Good bye. Pass my regards to everyone at home.'

'Sure, I'll.. Take care.'

He was now standing all alone in the campus. There was perfect silence around and he set out for a stroll around the campus -- through those old corridors and stairs where he once walked as a student-- and all this while he felt the surge of some strange emotion since the conversation with Meera began. The same visitor was knocking his mind again in the form of some strange emotion, but this time with much more force. He now found himself facing a short flight of stone steps ending in the IT block of the campus -- the same block where he spent those four years of his life. He mounted the steps and entered the IT block. The knock of the visitor was now working up to a crescendo. He walked up to the restroom and splashed his face with a pool of cold water, and then looked at the mirror. He felt as if the face which looked back at him out of the mirror was winking at him, bringing to his notice that the visitor who had been knocking his mind had finally made his entry to the house.

Reminiscence once again took him to his school days where everyone treated him as a quiet, nice boy. Teachers and students liked him equally and he was a pet in his family and school. But he found himself in a totally different situation on joining his college in Coimbatore for his engineering in IT. 'Why is it that at school when one is quiet and reserved, one is treated as a pet, while at college one's reservedness often gets misinterpreted for egoism or arrogance?' -- This was a question which used to play on his mind during those days, and he now knew the answer, which he never knew then.

Building a rapport with someone is dependent on several factors. If one needs to work it out, it can only be done by communicating openly, and this should happen from both the ends. Communication is the balm for the soul. He now recalled the day in the first year of his engineering when he happened to overhear remarks from couple of his friends about him 'showing-off' when he refused to give money to the seniors, while the rest of the juniors gave in to the threats. He now realized that he should have talked to his friends openly and he should have tried to explain to them why it was hard for him to give away the money, especially, when a board had been hung on the gate of his home which says 'For sale.' The thought of donating money to the seniors gave him a conscience prick, as he was aware how hard his parents were working to cough it up. There had been several instances from his first year thru the final year which gripped on his nerves adding to his sense of desolation. And instead of being open with his friends, he kept mum, hiding his feelings within himself. Few of them had approached him trying to build a rapport with him. But emotions let itself loose like a crack in the dam, whenever he made an effort, styming his speech. He was egoistic to shed a tear and always kept up a front before his colleagues.

Time might soften the vividness of these memories, might lessen the agony of them; but he knew that nothing could remove them altogether. He knew that he wouldn't be able to erase off the gray memories of those four years -- it would be like trying to kill a bird by dropping it from the top of a building; the bird would fly back. But now he was thankful for those experiences. Trouble had sharpened his vision. He learnt to deal the present with fortitude and the past without regret.

Four O'clock was approaching as he made his way back to the railway station for his journey back to Cochin. The snorting of the engine confirmed the announcement that the train would leave any minute from now. He got into his compartment and wedged on to the seat near to the window. The train started moving and he occupied himself with the 'God of Small Things,' only to be distracted by the noise from a group of college students in the next coupe. They were on their way to Kanyakumari to celebrate the arrival of the New Year. 'Happy New Year,' he monologuised, and resumed the perusal of the book. Coimbatore had vanished by that time and the train was now nearing Valayar. Time passed. The book slipped out of his hands on to the floor. He was now asleep, enjoying the journey where the train of life was taking him, and the Tea-Garden-Express, as if in appreciation of this, hurried along the rails.


-Balu