Once Upon a Time in Sundarban

Kolkata, 2019

The abuses were still ringing in my ears.

“You are good for nothing. Our product has a universal appeal. People will have sex…nowadays teenagers copulate…wedlock or no wedlock…and the demand for condoms will never go down. Libido is always on the rise…except for a duffer like you may be!”

The boss had blasted and then winked with a wry smile.

“If you can’t meet the target for the next month, I don’t care how…I’m sorry but you will have to look for another job.” He was ready with my termination letter.

I had felt like throwing the catalogue of the company, depicting rubbers of different colours and flavours on his bald head. I knew this was funny but wasn’t it a cruelly hilarious irony that the top brass of a condom company had a head shaped like a male genital, round and almost devoid of any hair!

“Yeah…that is what is left to do now. Encourage dog owners to develop chaste sexual habits for their pets. Why doesn’t the company device condoms for pets? It would increase their sales. Or organise a sex fest in lines of lit fests or food fests that keep happening in various corners of the city nowadays.”

I felt as if the entire load of promoting safe sex rested on the slender shoulders of Mr Somen Putitundi, the Area Manager of Little Johnny Latex Ltd…that’s me.

With these cussing thoughts I left the office in Dharmatullah and wandered off aimlessly. I had joined this company about six months ago after losing my previous job in a refrigeration firm. I was not made for sales jobs. I did not have the shameless pursuing powers as most cracking sales executives possessed. Resorting to lies to sell products was also not my cup of tea.

So here I was. A 36-year-old, simple man from a middle-class background trying to make ends meet by doing odd jobs.

My father was a peon in the postal department. He had tried his best to give us brothers a modest formal education. I did my graduation in Commerce stream and then tried for various government jobs. Nothing clicked and then as my father retired I took up a salesman’s job with an insurance firm. From then on I kept on moving from one sales job to another. Meanwhile, my folks got me married absolutely against my wishes. I knew it was very difficult to sustain a family with the kind of money I made.

I took a good look at myself in the mirror of a paan shop while buying a cigarette. White strands peeped out from behind the ears. The cheeks had socketed resembling volcanic craters. I had lost weight and the sweaty shirt seemed to hang on my shoulders being several sizes on the higher side now. The dark patches under the eyes gave away my mental state. I needed a new pair of shoes as the stitches on the front of one of them were on the verge of giving up on life just like me.

Smoking casually I jaywalked and found one of the metallic benches that had been put by the Municipal Corporation for the city’s beautification. After manipulating the bird beats I parked myself on the bench.

My mind wandered aimlessly from one thought to another. Few yards from me a bearded guy in a shabby kurta and a pair of tattered denims was making a portrait of a young, fair-skinned girl, probably a tourist from a foreign country.

“A dropout from Art College or a failed artiste may be…,” I chuckled under my breath. I knew these types. High on weed, these guys would roam around the Dharmatullah, Maidan and Park Street areas and target tourists for making their sketches; making some quick bucks and if luck favoured some quick action as well.

The painter’s artistry reminded me of my student days. Sitting on the lawns of our college campus I too used to sketch my beloved, Sucharita, a year junior to me with whom I had fallen in love. The affair was unsuccessful owing to the huge difference in our social status. Those were the days when I used to paint, write poems and scribble down short stories. Few of them were even published in the little magazines which were sold in the annual Calcutta Book Fairs. Friends used to say I had a way with words. I used to read a lot, mythology and history being my specific interests. Had I had my way I would have studied history but humanities would not have fetched me any job. Nonetheless, I was typically interested in the history of Bengal and Calcutta. I had kept my collection of rare books on ancient Bengal and old Calcutta well preserved in a steel box placed under the bed in my room. It was precious to me and I wanted to keep it as close to me as possible though I hardly got the time to read the books any more.