I cautiously stepped into the bustling corridor of the hospital’s Outpatient Department (OPD), my heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The sterile, clinical scent in the air made me momentarily hesitate, but I pressed on. This wasn’t my first time in a hospital, but it felt like the first day of school all over again. I couldn’t help but marvel at the opulence around me; it was as if I had walked into a five-star hotel, rather than a medical facility.

A vigilant security guard with full uniform, opened the door with a courteous nod as I approached the entrance. His uniform was pristine, his demeanour exuding professionalism. It was a reassuring sight, and I stepped inside with newfound confidence.

Just beyond the entrance, a welcoming lady stood behind a sleek counter, ready to assist incoming patients. She greeted us with a warm smile and asked the purpose of our visit. It was a simple question, yet it carried the weight of our health concerns. My companion and I exchanged glances before I replied, “We’re here to see Dr.Mahanta.”

Upon hearing our response, the lady efficiently collected our information and handed us a numbered coupon. We followed her directions to an adjacent waiting area, our designated spot until our coupon number was highlighted in the display. It was there that we found ourselves amidst a diverse group of people, each with their unique stories and anxieties, all bound together by the common thread of seeking medical care.

As I settled into our seats, I couldn’t help but observe the pace of the proceedings. At that moment, only one counter was operational, and a sense of sluggishness hung in the air. It was evident that the hospital was facing some logistical challenges, with the other counter remaining eerily vacant.

Minutes ticked away, and the slow-moving queue inched forward. Conversations buzzed around us as patients and their companions engaged in hushed exchanges. Some shared stories of previous visits, while others discussed their expectations for today’s appointment. Time seemed to stretch, and impatience began to gnaw at my nerves.

Soon two more counters opened and speed now is getting better. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, our coupon number was displayed on the electronic board. We approached the designated desk, where a diligent clerk awaited our arrival. She seemed to possess an uncanny ability to extract all the necessary details swiftly, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she recorded our information. In a matter of minutes, she handed us a meticulously prepared file and advised us to proceed to room number 18, where Dr. Mahanta would be available.

Before we left, we settled our registration fees at a nearby counter. The cashier handled our transaction with the same efficiency we had encountered earlier, leaving us with no further delay. Armed with our paperwork and a sense of purpose, we set off in search of room number 18.

The hospital’s layout was a maze of corridors and interconnected wings, but the signage was clear and concise. We navigated the labyrinthine hallways with ease, our anticipation building with every step. Finally, we arrived at room number 18, and my heart skipped a beat as I saw yet another desk in front of the closed door.

Patiently, we approached the desk, where a nurse sat, her gaze focused on her computer screen. She acknowledged our presence with a nod gestured for us to take a seat in the adjacent waiting area and collected the file we carried. It seemed that the journey was far from over; we were now in the hands of the medical staff, awaiting the arrival of Dr. Mahanta.

As we settled into the comfortable chairs, I couldn’t help but reflect on the intricate dance that was healthcare. From the security guard at the entrance to the clerk who meticulously recorded our information, every individual played a crucial role in this orchestrated symphony of care. Each step in the process, despite its occasional sluggishness, was proof of the dedication of the hospital’s staff with machine-like behaviour. The jurisdiction of each one is clearly defined.

Time passed in measured increments, punctuated by the soft hum of conversation and the distant echo of footsteps in the corridor. The minutes turned into an hour, and I found myself growing increasingly restless. I wondered about the doctor’s schedule, the challenges they faced each day, and the countless lives they touched.

As we settled in, the nurse assured us that the doctor would be with us shortly. The room was filled with the subtle hum of medical equipment, and the sterility of the surroundings served as a stark reminder of the purpose of our visit. Yet, there was an air of professionalism and competence that put us at ease. The nurse ushered us into the examination room and kindly instructed us to lie down on the crisp, white hospital bed. As we settled in, she began her routine check-ups, her movements precise and methodical.

First, she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around my arm, the rhythmic tightening and loosening of the cuff accompanied by the soft sound of the electronic monitor. She was beautiful and had a very pleasing smile that she carried all the time. I felt the gentle pressure on my arm, and I watched as the numbers on the screen fluctuated. The nurse, with a reassuring smile, noted down the blood pressure reading in my file.

Next, she directed her attention to the nearby scale. With careful precision, she asked me to step onto it, one by one. The digital display blinked momentarily, and our respective weights were recorded. The nurse’s professionalism and discretion put me at ease, despite the vulnerability that often accompanies medical examinations. With all the necessary data collected, the nurse meticulously arranged the file on the doctor’s table, ready for Dr. Mahanta’s evaluation. It was a moment of transition, where the information gathered during this initial assessment would become a crucial part of our medical history, guiding the doctor’s diagnosis and treatment plan.

Minutes later, Dr.Mahanta entered the room, exuding an aura of confidence and expertise. He greeted me with a warm smile and began to review the file that had been meticulously prepared by the earlier desk clerk and the nurse inside. Their attention to detail was evident as they asked probing questions about my medical history and current concerns. All are duly recorded in the file for the doctor to see, saving a lot of time for the doctor.

Dr. Mahanta’s presence commanded respect, and his warm demeanour put us at ease. He began the consultation by asking a series of detailed questions about the symptoms that had brought us to the hospital. His inquiries were thorough and pointed, leaving no stone unturned as he sought to understand the nature of my ailment.

With a measured tone, Dr. Mahanta inquired about our family’s medical history, recognizing the role that genetics can play in health issues. I shared what was asked, and each detail added to the growing picture of my medical profile.

Next, Dr. Mahanta conducted a physical examination, leaving no aspect of our health unexamined. They checked our eyes, carefully inspecting for any tell-tale signs of underlying issues. Their keen observation extended to our tongue, an often-overlooked indicator of certain health conditions.

With the stethoscope draped around their neck, Dr Mahanta proceeded to perform a comprehensive abdominal examination. They pressed and probed from all sides, their trained hands seeking any abnormalities. The rhythmic whooshing and thumping of the stethoscope against my skin filled the room, a reminder of the precision with which they conducted their assessment.

The journey through the hospital had been a testimony to the dedication of its staff, from the vigilant security guard at the entrance to the efficient desk clerks and nurses who guided us along the way. At the heart of it all was Dr. Mahanta, a healthcare professional committed to providing the best possible care to their patients.

In a world where health is a precious commodity, the hospital had served as a sanctuary of care, where the pursuit of well-being was paramount as it looked to be. I was thinking about the care and professionalism that carried with the patients a newfound appreciation for the unsung heroes who work tirelessly behind the scenes to ensure that every patient’s journey is one of healing, hope, and compassion. All patients are equal and simply object to them with a tag and they are doing their duty as such with a smile always on their face like a machine obeying a command precisely.

Finally, Dr. Mahanta completed his examination and went to his chair and I was sitting in front. He turned his attention to me, his eyes meeting mine with a reassuring smile. He began to explain his assessment first-hand and outlined his recommended course of action. It was at this point that my expectations were met with a surprise.

Dr. Mahanta’s prescription was basically a list of advisories of various expensive tests and procedures as I had feared. He recommended meeting him again with all the test results, to facilitate him to prescribe after making a proper and final diagnosis. 

As I exited his chamber, I couldn’t help but reflect on the complex and interconnected web of individuals who had played a part in our healthcare journey to meticulous perfection giving us a feeling of five-star health care.

In a world where health is a precious commodity, the hospital has served as a sanctuary of care, where the pursuit of well-being should have been paramount but it seems that luxury in health care is equally important to provide a profitable business creating an environment of luxuries and professionalism and is possible only for the rich.

 As we stepped out into the bustling world beyond, I carried with me a very uncomfortable feeling and thinking about the poor who can not afford these luxuries and also have a lot of difficulties and overcrowding in the government health care system bringing the richer people to these luxurious services at a cost only they can afford. It is a win-win situation for both.  Compassionate health care moves to a big business proposition.

I decided not to do any of such expensive tests and decided to visit an old MBBS doctor who has a chamber nearby. After some wait, he started examining me in his chamber and prescribed two medicines to continue for a month and visit him after a month. I was very surprised and told him my story, a few hours back and showed him the prescription of Dr Mahanta. He looked at it with interest and said, no need to do any such test as I have a simple age and weather-related condition which should go out within a few days. he gives a meaningful look to my face. I showed my gratitude to him and left his place. with his medicine, I was fit within a week and coming back to my routine. I thought about Doctors like Dr. Mahanta, who even having very high qualifications and was supposed to know better than the MBBS doctor was compelled to prescribe all the available tests in their hospital to the patients only to run a five-star empire and become part of it forgetting the oath they took some time in their college days. 

Long ago, in a bustling corporate world, a group of fresh engineering recruits embarked on their professional journeys with bright eyes and high hopes, and I was a part of this group. They believed their batch was the best, fostering a sense of camaraderie and cooperation that seemed unbreakable.

As the years passed, they climbed the corporate ladder, and a subtle transformation began. The unity that once defined their group started to fragment gradually, and the distance between friends grew wider with each passing day. Doubt crept in, wondering if it was just a perception or a reality.

In the silent corners of my heart, I prayed it was just a feeling. But gradually, the truth became apparent. Some colleagues sought to cosy up to management to secure coveted positions and select places of posting, leading to changes in their behaviour and priorities. The younger generations emulated this shift, and the workplace dynamics evolved accordingly. Secretive, is the new word for the actions.

In the cutthroat corporate environment, it’s not uncommon to encounter individuals who are solely focused on their personal ambitions and career advancement. These individuals often exhibit several traits that set them apart. I was only hoping we would all be away from this corporate culture and make a difference as a young community.

But soon we felt, for some of us, the priority became the endless ascent in the corporate ladder, a choice posting, proximity to the management. They view their careers as a competition where only the strategist survives and quality takes a second seat. This intense ambition can lead to choices prioritising personal gain over ethical or empathetic considerations. The friendship and the closeness of the minds gradually evaporate and the corporate culture is seen as visible amongst the once close friends.

We become emotionally detached from our colleagues though externally we remain good friends but most see others as tools to be used to further their own goals, rather than as individuals with their own feelings and aspirations.

 While networking is essential in the corporate world, some often engage in it solely to enhance their own status and power. They form alliances not out of genuine friendship but as strategic moves to advance their careers.

Unfortunately, some individuals are willing to step on their colleagues or subordinates to reach the top. They may take credit for others’ work, spread rumours or engage in office politics to eliminate competition and disregard the impact of their actions on others.

These individuals often have a short-term perspective. They may prioritize immediate gains and promotions, ignoring the long-term consequences of their actions. This can lead to a lack of loyalty and trust among colleagues.

These characters often struggle to build authentic relationships. Their interactions with colleagues may be superficial, making it challenging to garner support or trust when needed.

Empathy, understanding, and emotional intelligence are often lacking in such individuals. They may not comprehend or care about how their decisions affect others emotionally.

Ironically, some of these individuals may achieve their career goals but find themselves lonely at the top. Their relentless pursuit of personal success may result in the alienation of potential allies and friends.

It’s essential to recognize that not everyone in the corporate world fits this description. Yet many individuals value meaningful relationships, teamwork, and ethical behaviour. However, encountering such characters may be heartening, but identifying them is essential to navigate such situations with caution. In the initial days, we were happy about the personal friendship, which has gradually changed and been taken over by the so-called corporate culture. This is nothing abnormal but not expected in the initial days of our career.

Those in positions of authority found themselves surrounded by eager colleagues, always ready to assist even in their personal matters, while those without power became isolated, their contributions overlooked. It was a stark reality that couldn’t be ignored. The weaker the management, the higher the number of flatterers.

The hard work and sacrifices made to build a cohesive team seemed futile. Loyalty wavered as people aligned themselves with those in power. It was a human characteristic, present everywhere, but it felt different from their initial perceptions when we began our careers.

One day, a retired CEO, once the centre of attention, made an unassuming visit to the office. The contrast was striking. The engineers who had once followed him and were ever ready to do anything for him now avoided, a poignant illustration of how quickly allegiances shift in the corporate world.

This encounter left a lasting impression on me, as I realized the importance of being prepared for solitude after retirement. People often failed to recognize that they too would face such a situation eventually.

I also faced these changes in the behaviour of people when transferred from one location to another. People from their previous workplaces began to forget soon, the help and assistance in working in various fields that were given them soon forgotten. For all, If they are posted without an authoritative position, they feel isolated. No one simply cares. Yet, if they come with authority, they again become a sought-after advisor for some other group of people and people running after them.

I was expecting some time to maintain connections, but the reality proved quicker than anticipated. Only a handful of true friends remained, who cherished relationships beyond corporate boundaries.

In this ever-evolving corporate landscape, what we learned about the value of resilience, adaptability, and cherishing true friendships has diminished and been replaced by individual goals only. Maybe all carried these lessons into retirement, where they found solace in the company of those few who had remained steadfast.

And so, the story of corporate life unfolded, a tale of shifting alliances and evolving relationships, reminding us all of the impermanence of power and the enduring significance of true friendships

It’s essential to recognize that not everyone in the corporate world fits this description. Many individuals value meaningful relationships, teamwork, and ethical behaviour. However, encountering pure-breed corporate characters can be disheartening, and it’s essential to navigate such situations with caution.

Ultimately, striking a balance between ambition and empathy is key to long-term success and fulfilment in the corporate world. While personal ambition can drive professional growth, it should not come at the cost of disregarding the emotional well-being of colleagues or sacrificing ethical principles. Building genuine relationships and fostering a supportive work environment can lead to more sustainable and satisfying career experiences instead of prioritizing climbing the ladder and ambition over genuine friendships and emotional consideration.

One day, all will be facing retirement, meaning genuine friendship and respect for the others will then be very badly missed.

Rajat

GuwahatI

16/09/2023

In a secluded village surrounded by lush green hills, in a forgotten corner of the world,  there lived a community of humble villagers. These simple folk depended on the natural flow of water from the hills to sustain their lives, but they faced a problem that had persisted for generations – a lack of proper water storage. The villagers have appealed to the concerned government departments uncountable times but there has been no positive outcome. They lost hope that something would happen miraculously.

 At that time, I was posted in that area by my company as the Project Head of a project of my company. Losing hope of any support from the government department, one day the villager came to my office and told me the whole story. I was astonished to hear their story as it is a simple and legitimate demand of these innocent villagers. I asked them, why they came to me.  They told me, they had heard about me joining here as the project Head and came with a lot of hope to request that my company help them and I would build that water storage facility in their village. I was amused that these simple villagers were running from pillar to post for a small work that would help their small village population. I decided to visit them the next day with a few of my engineers. They were very happy.

My journey to this village was not an easy one. The road was treacherous, almost as if nature itself was testing my commitment to help. After what felt like an eternity, we reached the village, greeted warmly by the headman and treated like VIPs. But amidst this warm reception, someone stood out, an old lady who was constantly chewing betelnut and had an insatiable urge to talk.

As we settled in the front open area of the headman’s house, the old lady approached me. She didn’t hesitate; she hugged me tightly and planted a kiss on my cheek. In a language only her heart could understand, she conveyed her belief that I was a good man who would help solve their water problem. It was a simple gesture, yet it carried immense weight. I remembered my grandma, how she hugged and kissed us when we were kids.

I felt a deep sense of responsibility. The villagers had come to me for help, trusting that I could make their dreams of a water storage tank a reality as they lost all hope in the concerned government agency to do it. This was a minor task in the grand scheme of things, but it was of monumental importance to these villagers. It was a symbol of hope, progress, and a better future.

I decided to visit the proposed site for the water storage tank, even though the road was perilous. The villagers’ need was urgent, and I couldn’t ignore their plea. As I ventured to the site, I saw the ingenious bamboo drainage system they had created, a testament to their resourcefulness in the face of adversity. Bamboo, vertically sliced and joined together, acted as makeshift pipes since steel ones were beyond their reach.

Arriving at the designated location, I assured the villagers that their water storage tank would become a reality very shortly. Cheers erupted, and the old lady, who had hugged me earlier, reiterated her belief that I was a good man. Her faith in me was both heartwarming and overwhelming.

Unable to bear the villagers’ disappointment any longer, I took matters into my own hands. Within days, I allocated the work to a reliable contractor and deputed an Engineer to monitor the project’s quality and progress and report daily to me. He was authorised for any necessary modifications at the site without waiting for my approval which can be done ex post facto.

The work moved swiftly, and the water storage tank was completed without any delay. The villagers, overjoyed by this newfound source of clean water, implored me to inaugurate it. I agreed but was delayed due to my prior commitments. The engineer who was assigned to oversee the project informed me that the villagers refused to use the tank until I attended the inauguration personally.

Recognizing the feelings of the Villagers, my presence in the village became very important,  to attending the inauguration. Without any further delay, I headed to that great village. When I arrived, I was greeted with song and dance. It was like a festival was going on there. The old lady, who had initially approached me with warmth and trust, was at the forefront of the celebration, revelling in the joy of her community.

As I stood amidst the jubilation, I couldn’t help but be moved by the pure-hearted innocence of these villagers. Their genuine happiness over such a seemingly small achievement was a stark contrast to the complicated world I came from. we had provided them with something basic, something many took for granted, yet the impact was immeasurable.

The old lady, whose faith in me had ignited this journey, approached me once again. This time, she presented me with a hand-woven cap of exquisite beauty. It was a gesture that spoke volumes. At that moment, I felt gratitude and a profound connection with the villagers and their simple way of life.

I wore the cap with pride, not just as a token of appreciation but as a reminder of the enduring value of simple acts of kindness. It was a symbol of the genuine love and trust we had found in that remote village. In the old lady’s eyes, I wasn’t just a Project Head; I was a son, a friend, and someone who had made a real difference in their lives. And she became like my grandmother. I touched her feet for the genuine kindness they have bestowed on us.

Years passed, and the water storage tank continued to serve the villagers faithfully. I  was soon moved to a different project, but the memory of that village and the old lady who had touched my heart remained etched in my mind. The cap, weathered by time, is still kept like a treasure on my shelf, a constant reminder of the profound impact a single act of kindness could have.

In the end, this story is not just about a water tank or a hand-woven cap. It’s about the power of empathy, the beauty of simplicity, and the enduring connection between people from different worlds. It’s a testament to the fact that the most meaningful treasures in life are often found in the hearts of those we least expect.

                          AT WHAT COST & FOR WHOM? 

In the bustling heart of the city, the market square had transformed into a chaotic arena. Vehicles of all shapes and sizes jostled for space, their drivers seemingly oblivious to the traffic rules. Even the police, who were expected to maintain order, seemed like spectators in this vehicular pandemonium. The chaos of the marketplaces wasn’t just a random occurrence; it was a manifestation of a society in flux. The once-unwavering adherence to traffic rules seemed to waver in the face of mounting stress and hurried lives. The police, overwhelmed by the surge of activity, appeared powerless, inadvertently adding to the sense of lawlessness that permeated the scene.

After navigating the labyrinth of honking cars and haphazardly parked scooters, I finally managed to find a distant spot to park my vehicle. Frustration bubbling within me, I entered the market, determined to accomplish my errands.

As I walked through the market’s maze-like alleys, I couldn’t help but notice the old man selling vegetables with his wife by his side, from whom I generally purchase my vegetable stuff. Curious about the steep prices, I inquired about the rising cost. To my astonishment, he explained that the wholesalers had increased their rates, leaving him with no choice but to adjust his prices accordingly. The struggling market conditions had forced people to cut back on their purchases, further affecting small businesses like his. His story mirrored that of countless small businesses, fighting to stay afloat amidst economic turbulence.

My journey into the market was an expedition into the heart of a community struggling to find its footing. The old man selling vegetables represented the backbone of the market, a hardworking soul caught in the crossfire of price hikes and dwindling customer budgets. 

I continued, and the story remained the same. The fish and meat markets were no exception; prices had skyrocketed beyond reason, everywhere. The once-affordable daily essentials now seemed like luxuries. Even the cost of petrol had hit an all-time high, leaving me to contemplate the struggles of the lower middle class, which included people like me.

The burden seemed even heavier as I thought of those less fortunate. While the poor could turn to the government for some support, the lower middle class often fell through the cracks. The realisation of this growing divide weighed heavily on my mind. The traders, once a jovial bunch, now bore the weight of uncertainty in their furrowed brows. The burden of responsibility for a household’s sustenance weighed heavily on the minds of every shopper, making each purchase a calculated decision.

With a half-empty bag and a heavy heart, I headed towards the nearby grocery store. I had grown accustomed to the convenience of home deliveries and automated payments. However, today being a holiday, I wanted to experience the market firsthand. As the groceries piled up and the bill reached astronomical heights, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety. The prices had more than doubled since my last visit, a few months back.

The visit to the grocery store was a stark reminder that the winds of change spared no one. The aisles that were once filled with affordable staples now showcased a reality of inflation, forcing even the most prudent shoppers to rethink their choices. The act of reducing the quantity of groceries became symbolic of the tightening grip of economic uncertainty and the loot by the middlemen.

Fearful of exceeding my budget, I cut down on the quantity. A sense of unease settled over me, knowing that this new reality required careful financial planning. With my errands done, I emerged from the grocery store, only to be met with another challenge – two motorcycles were obstructing my car at the front and the back. Frustration and impatience churned within me as I honked repeatedly, waiting for their owners to appear.

After an excruciating half-hour, a gentleman finally arrived to move his motorcycle. As he freed some space in the back, I could negotiate my car to the road, I couldn’t help but think about the deteriorating road conditions. The never-ending, water and electricity line project had turned the once-smooth road into a chaotic construction site, these projects look like will never end. Potholes and half-filled ditches now posed as death traps and danger to every driver navigating the area.

The road, however, was not only fraught with physical obstacles but also with the daredevil motorcyclists who seemed to revel in chaos. They weaved dangerously between cars, disregarding every rule of the road. Their stunts and speed made it evident that their intentions were more about showcasing bravado than adhering to safety.

As the day’s events unravelled, the narrative of the city’s transformation became a reflection of society at large. The intricate dance of everyday life, punctuated by challenges and choices, revealed the resilience of the human spirit. In the heart of the chaos existed an underlying current of hope and determination – the driving force that compelled people to adapt, survive, and ultimately thrive.

The tale of the city wasn’t confined to just a newspaper- or Television headline; it was etched into the fabric of everyday existence. The evolving market, the rising prices, the crumbling infrastructure, unplanned structures, and the audacious motorcyclists – all were threads woven into a complex tapestry of change. And within this narrative, the characters – the old man, the traders, the shoppers, the customers and the daredevil motorcyclists – played their parts with a blend of vulnerability, courage, and tenacity.

The city’s story was far from over. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the market square, the journey continued. Through the challenges and chaos, a city and its people were transforming, discovering new facets of resilience and hope, and embracing the intricate dance of life in a world constantly in motion.

 With a slight rain, the roads are inundated as the drains are made without any survey and the slopes, the direction towards which the water should flow is not known but drains are made, to show the expenditure in the last few months of the financial year. The drains are becoming a breeding ground for mosquitoes as the drains always have some water-blocked. The citizen’s carefree attitude in throwing plastic waste in the drains makes it even worse. All water bodies are now gradually encroached under the eyes of the administration and with their connivance- by big business houses, and clearing of encroachment is restricted only to the poor who do not have any living space . The hills are cut without any restrictions and landslides ultimately go to the drains and clog them and the city has to face the flood without complaint. A pathetic condition in every part of the city.

The clock continued to tick, and the day slipped away, consumed by the market ordeal. I reluctantly abandoned my other plans and returned home, craving a moment of respite. The comfort of my home was a stark contrast to the turmoil of the market, and a glass of water provided some much-needed relief.

As I reflected on the day’s events, I couldn’t help but acknowledge the transformation the city had undergone. While the newspaper and Television headlines showcased development, it was apparent which way the progress had come in reality. 

The bustling market, once a symbol of vitality, now mirrored the struggles of an economy in flux. The dim face of the vegetable seller and such small businessmen and customers says it all.

The city’s story was far from over. 

When considering development, it’s important to weigh the costs and benefits of different directions to ensure that we are making responsible and sustainable choices. This requires careful planning and consideration of various factors, such as environmental impact, social equity, and economic feasibility. Ultimately, the direction we choose should aim to promote long-term prosperity and well-being for all stakeholders involved.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the market square, the journey continued. Through the challenges and chaos, a city and its people were transforming, discovering new facets of resilience and hope, and embracing the intricate dance of life in a world constantly in motion.

We came out of the factory about 2:30 PM after a whole day’s effort, putting all our knowledge and experience to rectify a fault in a machine, but all our efforts were in vain. The machine responded for some time and again the problem started. Me being the official expert engineer  from the manufacturers service […]

The Fateful Night

Ah, the memories of young love, innocent and captivating. At the tender age of around 13, I found myself enamoured by someone special. It was a one-sided infatuation, a feeling that ignited within me and refused to fade. Every chance to catch a glimpse of her became a cherished moment, and her schedule was etched in my mind, like a map guiding my heart.

The school corridors, the park benches, the local hangout spots – they all transformed into stages where my eyes sought her presence. Her long hair danced in the air inviting me closer, making me crazy. My heart raced whenever her figure appeared, and time seemed to slow down as I admired her from afar. Each stolen glance was a treasure, a reminder of the unspoken connection I held. Her smile, her movement. Her way of talking  -everything was so special, and I enjoyed every moment of those from a distance. 

The routine became a comforting rhythm – a silent dance between my shy admiration and her oblivious presence. I was the secret observer, the poet writing verses in my heart without ever revealing them. The day’s highlight was that stolen moment, a brief second of connection in the bustling world around me.

As the seasons changed, so did my emotions, deepening and maturing. Eventually, life led us both down different paths, and my one-sided affection transformed into cherished memories. Looking back, I realize how that experience shaped my understanding of love, teaching me about the beauty of unspoken feelings, infatuations and the magic of youthful longing.

Though the years have passed, the nostalgia of that time remains, a reminder of the innocence and purity of my first, unrequited feelings. It’s a chapter of my story that I will always carry, an echo of the emotions that once painted my world with vibrant hues of affection.

The passage of a year marked not only the changing seasons but also the persistence of my unspoken feelings. Despite the passing of time, courage remained elusive, and my heart held onto its secrets. She seemed to sense my unspoken emotions and playfully teased me, turning my longing into a subtle connection with her.

Then, on an evening that felt both fateful and cruel, the universe conspired to put my heartache on display. There she stood, the same beauty with that infectious smile, but in the company of another, a boy by her side. The very person I yearned for had found companionship, and my heart shattered into pieces.

In an unexpected twist, she extended an invitation, a painful invitation, to meet the person who had now taken my place in her world. With a heavy heart and a mind clouded with emotions, I forced my trembling hand to meet his, mustering what little strength remained in me. And then, as if guided by autopilot, I left that place, walking away from the scene that had turned my world upside down.

In that fleeting moment, a chapter closed. The unspoken connection I had cherished had taken its final form, a bittersweet revelation that left me wounded. I navigated a sea of emotions—pain, rejection, disbelief—all swirling within me. It was a turning point, a harsh lesson in the fragile nature of affection and the unpredictable currents of life.

As I walked away, I carried with me a newfound resilience, a mark of survival amid heartache. This painful experience would later become a part of my journey, a reminder of the strength it takes to face emotions head-on and the wisdom gained from weathering life’s storms

RAJAT TO BE CONTINUED

GUWAHATI

26/08/23

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POSSIBILITIES IN THE NORTH EASTERN INDIA 

( SOLAR AND WIND SECTOR ) 

AN EXCERPT OF MY SPEECH AT THE NATIONAL POWER SUMMIT AT HYDERABAD ON 08/02/2018

https://youtu.be/N5o0nqUI6a8( see in browser)

I want to discuss some important issues related to renewable energy development, including the Hydro sector in the Nort Eastern Region of India. 

As you all know, this region has a lot of hills and waterbodies, and land is very scarce. The available land is very fertile agricultural land and can not be used for solar plants. 

Further, the radiation level at Northeast is very low and in the range of 13-16 per cent CUF(capacity utilisation factors) against the base level of 19 per cent. It makes solar power economically less viable. 

The CUF in states like Rajasthan and Ladakh is 25 per cent, and in other states like Madhya Pradesh, Telangana etc is above 20 per cent. This means the generation cost in Rajasthan with 25 per cent CUF is around Rs 2.00, and the same plant, if installed in Assam, will be around Rs 4 plus ( considering a 25 paisa increase in rates for one per cent lower CUF.) So investors are not inclined to invest in the private solar plant in these states as the solar energy produced here is available at a very high cost, and there will be no buyer for such power.

 In the case of wind energy, this region has a very high potential for only four months of the year and a balance of 8 months; wind potential is very low. This made the investors not come up for wind plants in these areas. Of course, some small wind turbines of the Kw range are being put in the hilly areas as the cost of transmitting conventional power to the hill areas where the population are in the range of 10-20 families is not found suitable or very costly. In those places, wind or solar lamps are used comparatively cheaper than conventional energy with storage batteries.

As the major thermal power stations of the country are going to be out of the grid gradually as it has a lot of environmental issues and the production reserve ratio is also coming down drastically, the cost of imported coal makes the generation cost very high.

This area has a lot of potential for Hydro and mini-hydro projects. The major potential is at Arunachal Pradesh, which is geologically fragile and in the neo-Himalayan range. After many studies, the hydro sites are to be chosen, and mega power plants with large storage need to be avoided, which may create serious problems for the downstream populations.

If we go on only solar and wind without battery backups and thermal stations are gradually put out of the grid, a situation be imaginable. Solar power with battery backups will be in the same range as hydro if the infrastructure cost of making road bridges is removed from the project cost and the state / central government bears the same. The construction period of a Hydro station is at least five years after all clearances. As such future energy policy is required to be finalised now. There will be serious issues for solar or wind energy storage, as Lithium is a scarce metal used in such batteries. of course, alternatives are being under research. Still, we have to think about the total requirements of batteries for electric Cars, rickshaws, solar / wind power storage and the latter; their disposal will also be an issue. 

Therefore, The energy policy should not be on a pan-India basis but on a regional basis. Solar power available at Rs 2.00 without any wheeling charges is available at Assam, almost at the same rate; why will Assam go for a solar power station in Assam?

Alternative studies of wind and solar hybrid stations and floating solar in reservoirs are still experimental. New solar cell technology is coming up with an efficiency of nearly 25 per cent plus may lower solar prices further, but batteries for storage will be a big issue. We have to go to Hydro today or tomorrow; the sooner, the better, but not on a mega scale but creating either run of the river scheme or smaller reservoirs.

A SANGUINE TALE UNFOLDING THE LIFE OF A PROJECT ENGINEER

From childhood, I was a bit naughty and enjoyed with people who do not take life very seriously. Never miss any opportunity to enjoy any moment to celebrate with noise and naughtiness. All kinds of mischievous ideas were coming to my head all the time; I appropriately used such tricks when getting a chance to apply to somebody, irrespective of their age. Still, I was careful not to disrespect someone or target their ego. It was only for enjoyment for me as well as the victims. This nature was inborn may, be, and till today, in this latter part of my life, I also want to live a life like that, a child within me. Something innocent only for the sake of entertainment. I hate people with a no-nonsensical attitude and always remain serious; people are afraid of talking to them and forget about a joke about them.

When I entered my professional college, the situation in my state was very bad then, and we were normally taken by bus full for picketing in some vital installations at night also. It was picketing round the clock. There were no classes and evening we gathered in front of the college canteen. One day I was joking with my friend, mimicking one of our professors, and all my friends laughed. One of my friends repeatedly elbowed me, but I did not understand; at that time, someone had taken my ears, twisting with his hand and to my utter shock, when I looked back, he was the professor about whom I was joking. He also enjoyed it and told me to re-act; I just ran away. Many such things happened in my life, but I was good at my studies also, so I did not face many problems of this nature of mine.

When in service, I also tried to enjoy doing my job, finding out something which made my job interesting, and my naughtiness remained intact. My target this time was my seniors or my contemporary friends, and it was my favourite pastime to caricature the senior officers who are normally of very serious natures. My topmost boss knows about it, and he is also my type of character who always enjoy life whenever gets a chance. He always preferred to take me on tour and started cracking jokes on the road. We normally forget how long we travelled and always have a beautiful time. We built a very good relationship like friends during tours, though he is of my uncle’s age. But he was a different man in office, and senior officers were also scared to talk with him.  I also behave like a serious obedient officer with him in office. Life was going like that, and my absence in any get-together was felt by the other people asking for the Joker. But I have a problem, those people I do not like; I can not pass the time with them and never try to mimic them. Gradually, I went up the ladder and came to a senior position. My juniors know me very well as I always try to help them grow, but I was also very particular about timelines, so people were also scared of me. But I enjoyed every word or dug out pleasure in my work. Humour is a part of my life. 

After office hours, I enjoy with my junior colleagues, cracking jokes or having some kind of get-together; of course, drinks were a part of such events, but I have sternly told everyone on such occasions not to cross their limit otherwise, I will not come to the next event. 

Soon, the days of Facebook have come. I started to have a lot of invisible friends and share jokes or good pieces of music. I am a great music lover (I have a lot of collections of old melodies, gazals and videos, of course, all are now available on youtube ). People also share a lot of interesting, entertaining videos. The Facebook reels are a good source of entertainment. If I enjoy such reels without any vulgarity, I also share them with my other friends; some may enjoy them, and others may delete that was not my concern. One day I got a friends request from a very small girl, as understood from her profile, and I accepted her request. In reply, she addressed me as “Khura” (Uncle). I liked it and advised her to call me “Koka,” (grandfather) instead of uncle khura. She agreed, till then we, the grandfather and grandchild, have a lot of interesting time communicating and enjoying each other’s company. I do not know how time passed, and I retired from service one day. One day, my granddaughter told me very proudly on one of her birthdays she had completed her twenty Ist years and now entering twenty-two. But we still behaved like grandpa and granddaughter. Till then, we did not meet, but one day, she messaged me that she had seen me in a particular location where I was exactly there. I told her how she knew it was me, and she told me her father had shown me to her. On asking, I learned she is the daughter of one of my younger colleagues, and she shares all our messages with her parents .it was a great surprise both enjoyed. Many similar incidents happened to me in the real or the virtual world.

In the meantime, my Facebook friend was growing, and I was communicating with very few of them out of the total list. Actually, due to some health issues, I left smoking and drinking totally, and so gradually, I could not enjoy parties of our classmates or ex-colleagues. They have also become uncomfortable with my presence. I almost avoided such gatherings, politely giving some excuses and keeping myself busy with other activities. After my retirement, My friends and ex-colleagues also had come down drastically. I prefer to the friends on Facebook on my free time, but though the numbers are growing daily, I have only a very small group of people to whom I can open up and enjoy messaging. I started messaging when free and had a very limited number of people with whom I opened up. We share many jokes, important pieces of information, kinds of music, and comical videos, and rarely talk about families. Some relations were becoming closer, and some went away automatically as our mutual interests were not matching

One day,- I was sharing a beautiful Shayari I got from one of my friends, which I liked very much and therefore shared with a few of my friends. Almost everyone liked it and sent a return message to me, but I was shocked to get a message from one of my good(?) friends telling me it was jabbers and not to sernd such jabbers. The same person shared such messages with me earlier, so I was shocked. I asked what the problem was, I thought the person might not have been in a good mood on that date, but I requested to tell me why the message was but did not get any reply. After some repeated messages from me were ignored, I was forced to delete the person from my friend’s list. I can not change my nature at this age, and I want to live a life like Rajesh Khanna in “Anand”, even if no friends are with me. Romance in older age is rare but being romantic in mood is life long . Shayeri is one such think which make people romantic by its expressions and all shyer express such emotions so niceIy. Normally being in Urdu , sometimes it become difficult to understand but if one read it repeatedly , It becomes easy .None dislike a romantic melody . I can not be like a dead man waiting for my last days in remorse and would like every opportunity to enjoy my life, of course, without harming the ego of anyone. Be a joke or music or anything where there is humour, sometimes point blank or sometimes intelligent and tricky, which have to read a few times to understand(Tube Light) and enjoy my time. But this comment from a good friend was unexpected and hurt me a lot. That should not have happened, at least with me. Yes, I share jokes and other such things with people without any motive except to share the laugh and entertain someone I consider a friend and, as a result, get enjoyment myself. But this incident has made me consider whether to continue on FB or uninstall it. Several times, I tried to uninstall it. Still, I did not do it as my WhatsApp is not only used for communication with supposed-to-be friends but the various other activities I carry out beyond FB, which I used only to connect with my invisible friends,  without knowing whether they are genuine or fake. So I gradually thinning down my friend list and am still to decide where it will stop in this process.

After some days, I may be cracking jokes with Brownie, my sweet dog who knows nothing about this virtual world and human as species.

In April of 1976, during the Bihu Holidays, I visited Tezpur, a small and very beautiful township north of the Brahmaputra river—a very clean and historically important place. My eldest sister was married in 1975 and stayed in Tezpur. There was no bridge connecting the south bank with the north bank then, and people had to cross the river through a ferry run only once by the Inland water department of the state government at around two o’clock in the afternoon from Silghat. Another Ferry goes to Biswanath Ghat connecting Biswanath Charali. (Meeting of roads from four sides) from Silghat almost at the same time. The road communication from my place, Golaghat, to Tezpur, was very interesting. One Assam State Transport (ASTC) Bus plys between Jorhat to Silghat in the morning, and it has a quota of six seats to accommodate passengers from Golaghat. This bus takes us to Silghat ferry ghat.

In Golaghat, we must catch an ASTC bus to Kamargaon, nearly 30 km from Golaghat. We are to wait at the Kamargaon bus stand for almost an hour to catch the bus coming from Jorhat. The bus takes us to Silghat, and at Silghat ferry ghat, before the bus stops, people start jumping out of the bus throwing their luggage through the bus window and running over the sand beach to the ferry ticket counter, nearly half a Km to a KM away depending on the month of visit. In summer it is near, and in winter it is far from the bus terminal. The passengers create chaos, and they can not be blamed as if they fail to get a ferry ticket, they will be stuck there where no accommodation is available. It was a horror for the older people unless someone was with them to run and arrange their ferry tickets. After reaching the North Bank, people must run to catch the only ASTC bus half a Km away from the ferry ghat to Tezpur. One person in the family normally runs and occupies his seat and places a handkerchief or some baggage in other seats to occupy the seats for their family members coming behind. I enjoyed this thrilling experience, but it was horrific for senior citizens. The chaos in the bus is worth seeing. Those who did not get a seat on the bus created a stir by throwing out the handkerchief put on by someone else to block the seat by some other passengers and occupying the seat by force. This chaos continues for some time before the bus starts. There were a few taxis ( Ambassador and Jeep only) was also available at a very exorbitant cost, but those who did not get a seat in the bus compelled to take their services, paying the extra charges or otherwise walking nearly 5- 8 km(Depending on the location of the ghat which goes on changing with the water level of the river) to the town.

My earlier visit to Tezpur with my parents gave me a fair idea of the communications, and I am mentally prepared. During the Puja holidays in October of that year, I told my father I wanted to go to Tezpur. I was then studying in class Xiii, and my immediate elder sister was in class X. My father hesitated to permit us to go considering these communications issues, but I was adamant about going, so he ultimately yielded. I booked two tickets for us in advance, and the next day we started our journey from Golaghat to Kamargaon. Only a few private buses were plying in those days, except very few running between nearby places, and ASTC was the only service for long-distance travel. The red buses with a Rhino logo attached have a great authoritative look.

In Kamargaon, we were waiting for the bus from Jorhat to come after taking Samusa and Jelebi in a small shop near the bus stop, and ultimately the bus arrived. There was no hurry as the bus waited 15 minutes, and we occupied our seats. Soon we reached Jakhalabandha Bus station, where the Bus stops for quite a long time, and the passengers normally take their food there in the nearby restaurants as there is no more food stall available till reaching Tezpur. We also took some food, and I told my sister to come slowly with our luggage at the ferry ghat to the ferry, and I would run to get the tickets. Knowing the situation, we were carrying a small bag, and I ran to get the Ferry ticket, and my sister walked to the ferry with our pack. I arranged the ticket, and we soon occupied the ferry seats. It was nearly a two-hour journey before reaching the other side, and there also my sister was coming comfortably, and I ran to occupy two seats in the bus to Tezpur.  Luckily I managed two seats for us, but we had to share our two seats with accommodating an older lady who could not get a seat for her. From the bus stop, we took a rickshaw to my sister’s place and found my sister and brother-in-law waiting for us at the gate. On the road, we got a Public call office and informed my father that we had reached safely.

Next week we visited the Famous MahaBhoirov temple and the Padum Pukhuri(Lotus Pond), a beautiful pond with a road dividing them. The lotus was in full bloom, and the area was very beautiful. My sister and brother-in-law go for their duties, and we roam around the town. There were so many beautiful locations to visit, and we wanted to go to all the places, which was impossible. But we did not miss going to The famous Agnigarh, built on a hilltop by King Bana, who ruled during the Kurukshetra war and fought with the Kauravas against Pandava. The same is within the centre of the town. His daughter Usha was beautiful and in love with Aniruddha, nephew of lord Krishna. King Bana made this fort to keep her daughter Usha so that no one could take her away. It is now preserved as a place of visit for the tourist. The location is calm and quiet, and the mighty Brahmaputra and its sandy beach can be seen. The beautiful Cole park was nearby. Originally made by that time commissioner of Assam, Mr Cole, in 1906, Cole Park, named after him, is a major attraction of Tezpur. The park was renovated from time to time and maintained very well., 

Suddenly, my sister, who was with me from golaghat, fell sick, and my brother-in-law took her to a doctor. We had just entered the doctor’s chamber when there was a commotion outside. A few people brought inside a gentleman who was constantly shouting. He was well dressed and looked like a gentleman of around 65-70 years of age. His wife also accompanied him and looked like a lady from a well-to-do family. She was crying without stopping. The doctor put the gentleman in the bed and tried to check him up, but he was not allowing him to do that, pushing the doctor back with his hands and foot. With the help of the accompanied people and us, the doctor measured his abnormally high blood pressure. He was still shouting consistently. The doctor immediately injected him, and after some time, the patient gradually cooled down and slept. The Doctor asked the people what the matter was. The lady told him that they were travelling from Silghat to Tezpur through the ferry service and were perfectly alright, but 5-10 minutes before the ferry reached, he started behaving abnormally and gradually, it was increasing. The other two people who were their co-passengers noticed the change and helped the lady to bring him to the doctor. 

The Doctor asked the lady whether they had taken anything on the way. The lady first said No. But suddenly, she remembered something and told the doctor that one gentleman was travelling with them and had become very friendly with them. Half an hour before arrival, he gave them both paan(Betel nut with paan leaves). The gentleman had taken it, but the lady did not; it was still in her bag. The doctor wanted to see the same, and she took it out of her purse. The doctor opened it and found the  Dhutura (thornapple or jimsonweeds or Devil’s trumpet ) flower seeds mixed with it, which is a poison and makes people senseless. So the diagnosis was completed, and the doctor pushed him for another injection. By this time, their family members had reached and, as advised by the doctor, shifted to a nearby hospital for any requirement at night. The doctor then told us that this was not the first case. Some unscrupulous people normally get acquainted with people who look from a well-to-do family and give them something to eat. Without a doubt, the victim takes such things and becomes unconscious. Then these people took all the bags, cash etc., from the victim and left. Likely the gentleman has not taken the full Paan, and he did not faint by the grace of God. Due to our curiosity, we visited the hospital the next morning and met him. He is fully fit and apologised to us regarding his bad behaviour under the influence of the poison. I learnt a big lesson, and from then on till today, I do not take any offerings by any unknown person during travel anywhere. The person could have died if his co-passengers did not help him to bring him to the doctor.

This incident had affected us mentally so badly that we decided to cut short our Tezpur visit and return to our house. The journey was the same in the reverse and the last bus from Kamargaon to Golaghat. 

Rajat 

11/07/23