A Story Over Breakfast

The following story was told to me over a charming breakfast by a man I met on the metro. His name is Dan and he is my neighbour. Being elder to me, I call him Dan da. It has been a long time since I heard a story told to me, and therefore I have decided to publish this almost verbatim. I hope you enjoy the tale!

The Bilge Master

I

The nightmares again. A spiky, blood red mark on my report card saying I failed my exam. I wake up each night filled with dread. Why, oh why did I get a star in my class X exam? If I hadn't, I would never have been told to take Science in class XI and I could have studied English and perhaps become a professor!

But no! I had to go and get a bloody star. And now, much like the pair of star crossed lovers in fair Verona, I am in the deep end of the pool, flailing around like a madman trying to breathe. My parents who had pinned so much hope on me and bought me expensive books to help me study...what must they be going through?

I'm worthless. I should set them free. I will  set them free. But how? Think Dan. Think!

I know. I'll run away somehow. Garia station is nearby. I'll grab a train and see where I land up. From there I can perhaps be a monk. Anything  but this tension. Anything but these nonsensical expectations that I will never be able to fulfill.

II

I've packed a bag. It contains a Bhagvad Gita. Don't ask me why. I have one hundred rupees in my pocket. It's 2001. That money will get me where I want to go. Then it's upto God. I have no power over what is destined for me.

Here comes a train.

III

I'm sitting in a train, which just entered the first station. I bought a film magazine which costed me Rs 10. A few people are glancing at me, suspiciously. One of them asked me where I was going and I replied "I don't know". The weird looks are getting more and more frequent. I have a five rupee ticket in my pocket. I don't even know how far this train goes or how far a person can travel on a five rupee ticket. I don't want to be thrown out of the train. Let me get off at the next station before the ticket checker comes and tells me something harsh. What an adventure this is. I am dazed with delirium and shit scared, but at least I have set my parents free. They won't have to spend money behind me anymore. I'm 17 years old and I can take care of myself.

I took a train to Bardhaman, then another one to Bolpur. Bolpur seemed like a good place to get off. I spent the night at the station, awaiting the dawn. What was it they said? The night is darkest before dawn?

IV

It's morning. I slept on a bench on the platform. My body aches. My joints are stiff from lying in the same position for so long. I also need to restore blood circulation in my feet. I'm ravenous. I need food.

And thus I begin the second part of my quest. I have left my old life behind, and am starting a new one. But first, breakfast.

Breakfast was a simple affair of kachori and aludum from a sweet shop washed down with rasgullas. Now at least, I am no longer hungry. The challenges before me can now be faced with some degree of confidence. I went to the rickshaw stand and hired a rickshaw, requesting him to take me to the nearest ashram. It is the simple life for me. Two meals a day, even if the meal is gruel and a bed to sleep on after a hard day's work. After all, don't people become hermits? Don't people renounce the ways of the world, forsake meat and fish and live on fruits? I am a God fearing boy. I shall work and earn my sustenance.

I have arrived at the local Ramakrishna Mission ashram. The rickshaw cost me twenty rupees and the meal 60. I have five rupees in my pocket. A pauper in the true sense of the word.

It is here that I got my first reality check. I knocked on the gate of the ashram and a gruff looking man, smelling of coconut oil answered the door. When he heard what I wanted, he boxed my ears and told me to get lost.

I'm not ashamed to say I started to cry. Five rupees in my pocket and nowhere to go. For the life of me I couldn't figure out what to do. It was at this point that I met the good Samaritan.

V

I went to another ashram. I was sitting under the shade of a tree, playing with a stone and wondering what to do, when suddenly a shadow fell across me. I recognized a man I had seen at the nearby temple where he had been praying(It was a man in his mid thirties). This man asked my name of me and I gave a false one He then asked what I was doing. His impression was that I was a boy from a decent family and I was far from home. I told him I had come from Bangladesh and was looking for a job. He took me to his house. He then gave me ten rupees and told me to try and see if I could find work at the local tourist lodges that were in Bolpur. It was a hot day in the middle of summer, and I was sweating buckets. But to the lodges I went and everywhere I was turned away. Close to despair, I went limping back to his house. I was chased by a dog. I had to clamber over a small stile to get away and my shirt became stained with mud.

Thus disheveled I arrived at the good Samaritan's house again and told him I had had no luck in finding a job.

This is when I met the Oracle, in the form of this good Samaritan's father. It was like a scene from  a Greek hero's quest. This old man made an impact on me.

VI

This good Samaritan's elderly father  came out of his inner room and asked me point blank where I was from. I felt I could trust him and so I told him I had run away and my home was in proper Kolkata. He immediately told me to ring up my house and alleviate my parents' tension.

And so I called.

I learnt that the entire neighbourhood had assembled at my house and all hell had broken loose. Some people were wringing their hands with worry and some wanted to wring my neck in fury. In the midst of all this, my mother's blood pressure had shot up and she was confined to her bed in a semi conscious state.

An anxious cousin picked up the phone and he was breathing heavily. He then told me to stay where I was and that he would send an escort to pick me up from there and bring me home. Apparently, my entire clan was waiting for me.

I was given lunch and then I slept.

I woke up about three hours later and asked for some money to go to the station. But when I got there I found that my name was being announced in the station and I was told not to get onto any trains. For who could tell what I would do? I could have run again, isn't it?

After some time, when the evening was almost upon us, two of my cousins arrived and together we returned home.

I expected a hiding, but my mother saved me. The entire neighbourhood would stare at me wherever I went.

The problem I had run away from was back.

VII

I told my parents rather vehemently that I would not give the higher secondary exam. I was adamant and no tears or wringing of hands would change my mind.

t was then that I was taken to a psychologist and I had my second epiphany. This man had a powerful, deep voice. He told me that I would have to appear for the exam, even if I failed it or got exactly zero in exactly one subject.

I had three months. I just went and bought as many ten years question banks as I could and started to solve them. By the end of six weeks, I found that I could join dots connecting what I had studied in my books to what was given in the questions.Each day was a battle. Escaping is so easy. Staying is such an adventure.

And so, the boy who ran away, faced his fear and gave the exam.

VIII

It was the day of the result. I was asleep. My mother had gone to school to check the notice board. She came back and told me that I had secured a first division. For the first time in three and a half months, I smiled. we both heaved a sigh of relief.

This is where I make a mistake again. Having secured a first division, I decided to get myself admitted in Ramkrishna Mission with Economics Honors. I hated every second of it . It was a bad phase in my life. I used to sit in my room, in pitch blackness, without peace.  Once again, I felt worthless. I wondered when, (if ever) I would find my true calling.

I somehow completed the Economics course and then did an MBA. For my first job, I got settled in a plantation in Kerela.

This is where everything changed.

IX

It had been a few months in Kerela. It was a beautiful place. Lush greenery all around and the smell of petrichor when it rained. I was happy. I had servants, a bungalow to myself, good food and I had stopped worrying. My brother-in-law had gifted me a camera and I started to dabble in photography. 

Little did I know, it would change my life soon.

This change I speak of came when two of my friends arrived to spend some time with me in Kerela. They brought with them one of the latest DSLR cameras in the market. I had never seen such clear pictures, with so much detail before. I started to dabble further in photography. I took the DSLR for a spin and started to click photos of nature, learning about the camera and teaching myself photography. It was a match made in heaven.

I had found my calling. I was elated beyond measure.

X

And so, after a tough high school life, a worse college life and a lot of struggle, I had decided what I wanted to do with my life. I now have two cameras (the camera of my dreams…and most importantly the right perspective), and I travel here and there on photography assignments. Over time, my eye has developed and I have been able to teach myself more and more about photography.

It has been a long journey, with its ups and downs, but it has ended. Subhadip Dan, photographer! Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

And now my friend, do what you will with this story. Maybe you can learn from it. You see, sometimes even a good student can fail. Sometimes a mediocre one can shine. Sometimes, your destiny awaits you outside the confines of organic chemistry textbooks or electrical engineering lectures.

As a wise person once said, "Let everything happen to you. Beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final.”