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Anek Dhar : A Bengali un-Bengali story
While the heat of the day will always cause a rethink, the feat of the day would have to be recollected by each of us, daily.
Anek, a simple young man, in his late twenties, was listening to some folk song. It was his Sunday afternoon ritual.
His view was, to influence his neighbors, proactively, with his ritualistic effort at reaching out through music. It would bring about acquaintance, bonding and general harmony was his strong belief. He hoped, someday, someone would ring his doorbell. Ask him to either play louder, or simply shut it. He needed some opinions, feedbacks, something to egg him towards his next musical collection. It is free, if you know how to look, search and research. Tomorrow was his crucial interview.
Everywhere he went, and every single time he introduced himself, he would wonder, why the other fellow Indian would immediately have the most “interesting” immediate reaction thus – Half an eyebrow raised with appreciation for the legacy of being a Bengali, and the other eyebrow squinting violently at the thought of lady politicians squatting on pavements and demonstrating democratic powers in inconveniencing fellow citizens repeatedly. The opposition and the enforcement team of the policemen, stand aside, much like traffic constables, ensuring that the city does come to a sudden and sure full stop. By the time Anek is ready to reply a planned reply, the opposite individuals gaze is trying to see, if he does resemble the Bollywood Bengali as well – one who has oily hair, chews paan and speaks as only Bengalis can both English and Hindi.
“Anek Dhar,” said he. “I know that you might be having some presumptions about Bengalis, sir, but I would like to tell you that I am different from all of them.”
“Of Course, you are! Can there be two Saurav Ganguly’s ever Anek”, said the interviewer. “Every single Bengali is a precious gem! But I need to ask you one question?”
Anek knew that this one would be about politics, and he shifted comfortably in his seat. It was like crossing the first hurdle of THE MOMENT OF TRUTH. He knew his Bengali history. He knew there was a media and mass public information blockage during the Naxal period. No one much knows anything about that period, so that can’t be asked. It must be about the Nano plant shifting out of the ruling party coffers, he thought.
“What do I do with a precious gem - which does not work? How is it precious then, Anek?” the interviewers voice, voiced his indifference towards him.
It took Anek thirty seconds to understand the question. It took him another sixty seconds to reply saying “I beg your pardon sir?”
“Well,” said the interviewer with a cautious tone, “Why should I hire you, when I can get local talent with a legacy of hard work?”
“Because of my name sir. Only because of my very name. You must know what it means in my mother tongue sir.” Anek was on a roll. His breadth was heavy and he took a moment to suck in a deep breadth. “Anek Dhar simply means – CATCH A LOT.”
The interviewer was stunned and he asked, “Catch what?”
“Anything sir – anything you need me to. I can catch – sales orders, customers, ideas, clients, collections, defaulters, audit violations, information, politics, and gossip. It’s pure genetics sir. I can get you a lot of anything you want. So, sir, what is it, that you are looking for in me?”
Anek was smiling on his way back home. He wondered if the promotion along with a new offer was largely due to the given perception, that all Bengalis are intelligent. This also made him wonder, if that is true, then why do Bengalis always work for others, rather than finding a way not to work and earn good money.
What hurt him however was that he could not write Bengali, nor could he read the language. He had apparently no immediate connection to Bengal. His parents had died in an accident when he was six, on a cold winter day in Chandigarh, where he was born and brought up.
He was brought up by his father’s lawyer friend, a Punjabi. He always topped Punjabi as a language in school.
He was smiling at not having to relocate, now that he had the job in his city.
Shomik Mukherjee is an exiled Calcuttan in the Dubai of India: Gurgaon. He worked in so many corporations of post-liberal India that Pentasect consults him regularly on any issue related to Indian companies. A very pure Mukherjee scion of Calcutta, one of the extinct species of aristocracy (not by birth one or by card one) in the graveyard of aristocracies: Bengal.
Shomik can be contacted at Shomik.Mukerjee@datacomsolutions.in
His Calcutta sweet guide appeared long back in Essays in Idleness