Annals of a melancholic manufacturer

I was manufactured on a February day and am still in the process of quality inspection. Opened my eyes literally to the world, ten to twelve years after I was accepted to the cradle of life. The focal point of my story would be at this point. Preceding this point was a life of care near to the bosom of my mother and lap of my father. Everything seemed made for me although away from my eyes the specifications were being readied which I had to qualify to be called a successful son, a successful man in life. Who knew that apart from qualifying this specifications, I would also be creating my own set of parameters so that when I see myself in the mirror the mirror would tell “you are the most successful being in this world”. The time I took to learn from one to ten was a miniscule part of the time spent while jumping from this one to ten level of schooling which the society believes is the stepping stone. As I grew the weight of my bag on my back became less, the height increased, eyes deteriorated and so also my dependence on my parents. A sibling became a cause of delight and a subject of benchmarking. Slowly as sun rose and died down for five thousand days the hormones started taking their chances and slowly before I knew they were in charge of me. First hurdle of board exams were passed comfortably and I had to move to the next station for further inspection. As hair started filling all around my body which had already tanned just by carrying a bat and running behind a ball (How did I not know that this was the start and all my life I have to run behind a ball only) I started feeling I am the creator of my destiny and the creators of me are not to be bothered by what I want. Next level- the double digit level of 11 and 12 (Higher secondary) the judging parameters changed. How much I study became dependant on time spent on tuitions to add what I say as optional accessories. The number of books I fill with dreadful symbols of algebra in three hours time was the criteria of judgment.

By this time the world had opened its arm to grasp me into reality. Love, lust and loitering around in blind streets took some amount of time and here I was now trying to realize what my dreams should be. By the time I realized it I found myself in the extreme north eastern corner of the country studying a so called “Engineering”. An engineer is also called a “manipulator” and this is what I had become without even realizing. Manipulating dreams, manipulating parents, manipulating teachers, manipulating friends and last of all myself. The reason- I wanna get what I want. Be it was marks, girls or a pint of stimulant potion. Four years- that was enough to teach me certain words of the dictionary- backstabbing, politics and endangerment. End of the period I came out- the only addition “New worldly values and a fuel to burn my desire”. Also an Er. Before my name. Parents became proud as I fulfilled their initial criteria and they said “go, get lost”-its time you fulfill God’s quality requirements. The only one who was a spectator to all this was my brother who used to curse me because I was the standard creator for him.

The paradox of my life was this point where I spent an hour of my life before a computer answering certain queries and then sitting before a group of individuals who was there to understand whether I fit their organisation and become a donkey. I gave my best that one hour and successfully transformed myself into a donkey who would manufacture things that people have evolved so that they do not ride donkeys- Bikes. So here I was a donkey creating replacement for donkeys. The best thing about all this was I was fulfilling the demand side and getting some remuneration in lieu. Never before I knew that a fat wallet can change the entire outlook of life. Here I was dreaming of buying shelter, getting an eve to fulfill my basic necessity of love and lust (where was this necessity for last 18 years?), and the result of which may be creation of another donkey. The sun greeted me at 6 in the morning and the machines at 8. My career started by driving on a set of wheels from one part of this country to another corner so as to test the quality standards of the bike. The roads used to fly past and I in a blue uniform was taking all this in my stride to get eternal success (which I have not tasted yet). Family was miles away and here I was trying to work to gain success. Individuals (actually donkeys) who used to work with me gave endless support so that I receive a paper at the end of the month with certain figures written on it that I learnt on my dad’s lap. Every time I used to come face to face with myself I had to ask what for I was existent and then the worldly potions available at a certain cost used to calm my nerves. The golden fluid used to run in my veins and as its lifetime came to an end, I was again ready to hit the ground again. One year on the job and a so called recession hits- “a global disaster and there was no money”. I failed to understand that did cows start eating money that the money vanished, when a billet fell on my hand. It was unpredictably the grazer who decided to cut down on the amount given to us donkeys.

At that time I realized as bond did “The world is not enough”. Said to the grazer that the grass he is feeding is not enough and I want to be a horse. There was another stratum of mortals who were fighting to be a part of the elite class of donkeys, and I too joined the race. Goodness gracious I kicked and beat some mortals black and blue and got some numbers again on a a piece of paper which was ticket supposedly to the transformation process of me to the elite class. Finally as Bryan Adams said “Here I am” with horses riding around him, I too see myself running behind a ball still trying to fulfill quality standards of an eve, of another donkey and finally of my creators and god. Wish me luck and I may lie down in peace in the arms of an eve with the ball of success in my hand (If the ball is not there, eve will also not be there).

Now time to answer some queries. “Komisar claims that a career is after all what you make it”- but I question who makes me? In this society the career makes me and not me making a career. I run and run for different reasons- by watching others, by being made to run and the day I stop running I may realize I am far from where I want to be. I want to make something but will I be able to transform myself from a donkey to man without a wallet. Passion for what I want may take me to a non career path but will this new born passion pacify my earliest passions- not only of mine but others dependent of me. If yes thank you and I welcome you to this utopian world. Komisar is 1 out of 6,692,030,277 mortals and the standards that he had to meet were very different from what I have to meet. Also what Kartikey had done can only be done when you achieve have already taken some steps and then decide why to reach the top. Why not sit here and keep myself engrossed in activities of my liking. To my liking a clear perspective of a wrong notion has been carried forward by Bagchi. When he says jobs are meant to satisfy us; I differ to say that not only the job but certain other results of it is what has more importance. End of the day the satisfaction comes from within when you can balance all alternatives in life to get a desired result. Kartikey was happy with the position, with the money but for him it was not acceptable after some time that the environment he works in by selling toothpastes and soap was conflicting with his perception of himself and there is where job satisfaction goes for a toss. Even balancing all alternatives is not an easy option and never in my life I believe I will get eternal job satisfaction since “as supply increases, demand too increases”

On the managerial and relational society query-My parents, my friends, my colleagues are also somebody’s manager or bosses and that is why I regard them as a single entity-“The grazers”. They want you to graze around the world, eat green and sweet grass, but whenever you start neglecting their needs-“the grazers turn butchers” (except my creators). The only option is to get rid of a really bad butcher and go in the hands of a butcher who will not give you may be a painful death. Absolutely there cannot be any negation that each and every molecule of organic and inorganic substance influence us. If a golden potion can influence me in an hours time, these mortals stay with me for 10-12 hrs. Also the careers are not only influenced, but certain norms and rules are laid down while you go around that path designed by them and me. Yo u deviate and the “connectedness” as we say is void. The choices for donkeys in our society are so huge that losing a donkey who wants to take a non career path does not cost too much. And what we say “See that donkey what he is doing to his life”.

I say “Introspect and adios”