when he’d just reached the platform, the local train is about to leave.
He leaped to the first coach, and clashed with a man standing. Not enough space to enter inside, not enough space even to place his feet properly. ‘Why pushing me, don’t you have eyes’- a co passenger protested.
‘Better watch out for you, have a sense of co operation’-cane his prompt response.
‘You‘re manifesting what kind of senses you have’-co passenger is prompt, too.
The argument would‘ve continued further, had not the other passengers mediated to end the palatable argument.
Standing and closing his eyes, he tried to imagine now he’d to travel nearly hundred kilometer to reach Krishnanagar- almost two and half hour journey. It’s seven in the morning and his stomach is –well, not entirely empty! There is a good probability that he has to cover the entire journey standing-like a horse. After reaching Krishnanagar-that exhausted horse has to convince doctors to prescribe medicines of their ‘trusted’ company, tempted them with baits-then have a lunch, time of which will depend as per the convenience of the doctors-his promotion and increment depends on their mercy.
He is a medical sales representative.
Standing almost on one leg, and balancing the other like a skilled ropewalker he took out his tablet from the bag pack and opened it. Weekly assignments need to be reconfirmed –today Krishnanagar, yesterday Kakdwip, tomorrow Kalimpong, take any alphabet and the destinations are endless. A form of modern slavery-he thought. At the end of the day, if your target isn’t fulfilled, take the unheard able words from the sales manager with the patience of a dead. fucking job!
His life partner too, is like that! Never talks with him in a melodious voice (he thought she possessed once) now, he’d almost forgotten that they have a wild love affair over two years before their marriage. Now it’s only living under the same roof-boring, same life, repeated day by day. When he returns home at the late hours –sweating, exhausted, bored he doesn’t find interest in her old wife-smelling of kitchen. She can now only arouse his appetite-nothing else.
Krishnanagar had arrived. Today he is disaster-had to cover the entire journey standing. His bad luck continued with doctors-painful, pathetic conversations. He was only thinking about what fate lies ahead and the cruel face of the section manager, his venomous remarks and more.
He took the 5 P.M local train. As soon as he’d ring the doorbell, he heard his daughter is shouting-‘papa’s back! Papa is back!’ entering the room, the first thing her daughter did was to present a drawing book in front of him. He recognised it as a drawing book, as he’d drawn the sketches for her weekly assignments. She proudly displayed him the excellent mark.
‘Miss told that it’s like a professional artist’-confessed she.
That short comment almost compelled to forget his painful, pathetic struggle all day long with his destiny. Some silhouettes of the past quickly floated past him. His love for painting, how he’d madly wanted to be an artist, his parent’s apathy to send him to Art’s college, heated argument, virtually his surrender to the destiny –all !
A single comment from an unknown stranger! His exhausted, crushed, bored soul is finding new lease of life -like desert finds after the first splash of rain. Something wet inside his mind…..
He looked to her wife-her battle worn wrinkled faces. How many years ago he’d looked like this to her? Probably centuries ago…
‘Tomorrow I’ll take a day off and take them to an outing’.
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