“Papa, whenever March comes to an end, I hear you talking about increment, what is it?
My little son, catching up new words on his way. Well, it took years for me to understand, yet I tried simplifying his query.
“Increment, aah well, it means ‘in cream there is an ant,’ it is all about taking a BIG BITE, bigger the morsel.”
He nodded as if he understood what I meant. Don’t know what he understood but I was in a maze of queries…Am I too an ant in the race?
Our lives are simple; all we count is our needs. The needs for which we fight our days and nights. Our needs that can be listed behind an ATM-slip. Yet, every time we de-list some of the items to satisfy the rest of our desires.
My thoughts are boundless, as my wife complains either I’m occupied by my work or some thoughts which don’t carry any extra bit of pleasure yet accounts the same amount of coin I break every month-end from our sole deposit “the earthen piggy bank”. Buried in the same imagination or dream that every middle class men eye upon, I too go to sleep. Eyes wide open…seeing the flow of needs and some bundles… which we term as joy.
I’ve never understood nor tried to, what my dad meant by the term “Middle Class,” as it seemed him tensed all his age fulfilling our routine needs. What I understood wearing my dad’s shoe is, a distant dream that tense me very often either.
Middle Class is a market of needs. Middle Class is a ladder of dreams. Middle Class is a demand for the market. Everyday a new product enters the market and a man like me feels to grab the pleasure home. We are budgeted with the “Exchange Offers”, the give and take policies that makes our identity prominent. Middle Class asks for DISCOUNTS where REBATE is meant for the highs.
“Papa, if increment means ‘in cream there is an ant’… Why do you take so much of tension? We can instead prevent the cream from the ants…!”
My thoughts ended, and YES that’s what they do. I didn’t spell out but amazed, how fast my son understands the policies that creams our needs.
------------------------------
The sun may get late at bed but my days start at the first call of my alarm. What I call is limitation; I’m shorten by time with such a huge list of needs. Anyway, this seems to be a story I’m depicting about myself. Me, I’m Kuber. My parents might have dreamt of bringing a lot of fortune with my birth and hence named me after the God of Richness. I’m sure; they would have called me “Laxmi”, if I were a girl…Simple ways of working out with the frustrations.
This God of Richness belongs to a not so rich family, which the Economists terms Middle Class in their words of definition. I don’t remember what I dreamt to be when I was a child and even when I’ve grown up. The only dream that suited me was being rich as my name suggested. Since the days of puberty I’ve matured my thoughts, compromising with the needs and extra pleasure, which has been buried within the limitations of affordability. Every “NO” my dad uttered shattered my desires and compensated in a new alternative way.
I broke his dream too. Though not a game of revenge but I walked the line of passion and made it my way of living. Like normal Middle Class parents my parents too had offered two options to lead my life, either be a doctor or an engineer. My “NO” might have sounded like a thunder to them which echoed at every spell of my needs later.
My dad seemed very happy, the day when I greeted him about me being listed among the salaried group. Still don’t find a reason for his happiness may because I’ll be shifting near home or may because from his list of budget my name got evicted.
I consoled my dreams, controlled my expenses and started preparing lists as my father did. My small rented flat got added some new needs every month. The fridge to hold my week-end beer, my 29’’ TV showing some skin whenever I get some freedom. My bed got well cushioned to comfort my sleep, yet my dreams remained untouched with additional features piling up the mess.
When worries started supporting my sleepless nights, I decided to part my worries with my wife. She with our son and thus the needs got a cause to expand its reach.
“Papa, here is your shoes”
My son tried to remind that it’s time to run for the creamy race. His small feet tried to fit in my shoe; I felt a crack in my heart….
“Aaro, wear your own shoe beta, you may fall…”
-----------------------------
“Wallet…Tiffin….keys ….Don’t forget to have lunch on time…”
It’s also a part of my routine life. My wife’s concerned about the additional expenses that might imbalance the calculation. I’ve to have my packed lunch on time, or else the peptic juice will get their bit of chance typing a new bill in our monthly over-draft budget.
“Bye, see you in the evening…SMS me the list, I’ll fetch them on my way back….”
My car waits me every morning, ready for its morning jog in the empty city tracks, even though I take the shortest route to office, thus contributing some savings to the fuel tank. The roads are clean washed by the shower last night. Few joggers parting their mornings preventing the medical bills come their way. A ghazal that rhythmed out from my car stereo. Me, I’m booked again by my thoughts.
I don’t know how others react to their dreams but optimism flow my brain and every morning I wake the same dream. A dream that I drive every morning to office and every evening drive back with. My day dreams start processing and accelerated the rhythm of hopes.
How if I find a bag filled with currency lying on the road….the search…the count….the budget….the needs…the happiness pictured with my eyes wide open……!
How many of you have dreamt such a dream? Almost all my friends does. How many of you have worked for it? What I understood is work that carries a minute part of such a big dream.
I have routined my life, proportionate to the needs of my work, thus limiting the unproductive time and hence pulling some extra coins to my earthen piggy bank, which I break every month-end to tick the list of our needs.
“In cream there is an ant” my definition broke into a smile in me again. My son must be seeing the fridge if there’s any queue of ants thus protecting his dad from being tensed.
The fifteen minutes of thoughts coming near an end as I entered the premise, which holds my office in one of its floor. The signal light put to blink and a honk to grab the attention of the Security Person, whom I find one of the sweetest and most dutiful person on earth. I’ve never met a sad face in him, never found him casual with his work.
“Good Morning, How are you bhaiya?”
Greeting him don’t get paid but he is happy whenever I wave my hand or greet him the mornings. He’ll become busy finding some space to park my car and care for the procedure, running here and there shielding my car from getting any bruises. I don’t understand why this world differentiate human with terms like big and small, yet for me, Happiness don’t get discounted when shared.
_______________
Climbing the fifty steps to become a corporate, reached the zone that defines us, designs us in its own desired way. Well though in my dictionary of understanding corporate means co-operation, sometimes it becomes a scary dream, standing alone in the crowed, screaming, yet no helping hand to share the panicking boredom.
A register waits my presence, and I draw the blue line marking my availability for the day. Though being a child I’ve always dreamt of autographing my fans but in real I found only one place where I’ll put my autograph every day.
The door welcomed me with its beep; my steps caught the direction of my neural instruction. My cabin of work lies in the solitary corner away from the hassles of sound pollution. My table well equipped with the wired devices, the table of exploration that I term. My chair cherished my presence with its type of welcome note. Some ants scrolled around the table, may searching for the cream like me. The dreamy cream that inspires to work. What they say increment, for me the cream for my work.
DHRUBA JYOTI SAIKIA
93.5 RED Fm
Guwahati, Assam
