The great meeting was coming to a close.
Some office bearer proposed a vote of thanks. Someone reminded of a waiting Lunch at downstairs.
The Editor took his support stick and was proceeding to the elevator.
At the door some trader was selling chappals . Ortho chappals or something like them ! He could not bother about his feet. His belly was more rebellious, craving for food.
As he neared the elevator, he was accosted by a great friend whom he had met two decades ago . His face was too friendly and smiling as not to be forgotten too easily. With great difficulty, he recollected his name. His eyes sported care as he led the editor for a few steps to the door of the elevator, made sure it closed and pressed the button.
Surely, the editor thought , nothing is changing. though he might have been shouting at the roof top of ZTC that everything changes except the word CHANGE.
Kanchi hotel is as it was in 1980s when the editor first visited it then.
As the elevator was inching, he looked at the co passenger. A tired old man possibly in his late 80s. could recollect his face but not his name.
"hello ! how r u ?" I said, more to start a tit-tat.
"I think. I am ." He said philosophically, I thought first. Then it appeared he said it frustratingly.
Armoured by a consoling tone, "what happened .......?"
"Nothing,....." he continued, " as usual, they discuss macro issues, discuss and part ways."
"This is what is happening since last fifteen years."
"What else would happen, you thought, at these meetings ?" I asked him in anxiety and feverishness. Adding, "these are Trade Union Meetings......"
Interrupting with a wry laugh, he exclaimed: "Trade Union ? What fighting power u and I have?
Frankly, we do not have biting power even at this age...."
I could understand his mood. Just said: " So it is......but what else u feel they could do?"
"None is even thinking of micro problems that haunt older people like us in day to day..."
"I don't follow you..." I felt I was meek when I said that.
"We are all really orphans.! " he said in a louder voice.
Shaken, I asked, " what happened ?"
"All through our service, someone was talking , someone said good morning, someone enquired about your health, someone came to your home, when you were sick...."
"Yes. True indeed."
"Nothing is happening ! Here no one, the least the leaders . They are least interested in how the old lead their day to day lives ..Who helps them ? Who talks to them ? We are left to care for ourselves... Should there not be a word of caring inquiry, when they start....?"
Is it...?
"Then what ! They are talking of updation issues. DA linking ! Most of the pensioners live in islands within their families.. The real issue is that people like u and me are never coming up with what are our issues, problems !! We are however remembered once in a year.for the donations we do not pay to meet the lawyers' fees....."
I was silenced.
"class III dominated pension associations are better. There are committees formed of willing volunteers to help colleagues in distress"
"They understand one another better perhaps," I said.
A sigh emerged. The lift had reached the ground floor by then.
Sans another word, he made his way.
The Editor felt he was left in a desert. Sooner, he composed himself. This time he said to himself: At least this updation issue has done one good thing. But for that, people of this age would never have assembled in this number.
In the last fifteen years, as a habit which has become possibly part of his charter he was talking to at least a couple of our friends from all cadres. Not on one day. Everyday. Just to make sure that our own people with whom we had the fortune of working with, do know they are remembered ! Quite often, they say, they are happy to hear some friend like me once in a blue moon. A few of them thought they continue as EDs, albeit.
But how many of us talk with our own acquaintances of our past ? Do we really care for our colleagues !
Pondering over, I steadied my steps to the dining hall.
The lunch could not be colder. But I was hungry enough to swallow it.
Some office bearer proposed a vote of thanks. Someone reminded of a waiting Lunch at downstairs.
The Editor took his support stick and was proceeding to the elevator.
At the door some trader was selling chappals . Ortho chappals or something like them ! He could not bother about his feet. His belly was more rebellious, craving for food.
As he neared the elevator, he was accosted by a great friend whom he had met two decades ago . His face was too friendly and smiling as not to be forgotten too easily. With great difficulty, he recollected his name. His eyes sported care as he led the editor for a few steps to the door of the elevator, made sure it closed and pressed the button.
Surely, the editor thought , nothing is changing. though he might have been shouting at the roof top of ZTC that everything changes except the word CHANGE.
Kanchi hotel is as it was in 1980s when the editor first visited it then.
 |
| Purely Representational courtesy: google. |
"hello ! how r u ?" I said, more to start a tit-tat.
"I think. I am ." He said philosophically, I thought first. Then it appeared he said it frustratingly.
Armoured by a consoling tone, "what happened .......?"
"Nothing,....." he continued, " as usual, they discuss macro issues, discuss and part ways."
"This is what is happening since last fifteen years."
"What else would happen, you thought, at these meetings ?" I asked him in anxiety and feverishness. Adding, "these are Trade Union Meetings......"
Interrupting with a wry laugh, he exclaimed: "Trade Union ? What fighting power u and I have?
Frankly, we do not have biting power even at this age...."
I could understand his mood. Just said: " So it is......but what else u feel they could do?"
"None is even thinking of micro problems that haunt older people like us in day to day..."
"I don't follow you..." I felt I was meek when I said that.
"We are all really orphans.! " he said in a louder voice.
Shaken, I asked, " what happened ?"
"All through our service, someone was talking , someone said good morning, someone enquired about your health, someone came to your home, when you were sick...."
"Yes. True indeed."
"Nothing is happening ! Here no one, the least the leaders . They are least interested in how the old lead their day to day lives ..Who helps them ? Who talks to them ? We are left to care for ourselves... Should there not be a word of caring inquiry, when they start....?"
Is it...?
"Then what ! They are talking of updation issues. DA linking ! Most of the pensioners live in islands within their families.. The real issue is that people like u and me are never coming up with what are our issues, problems !! We are however remembered once in a year.for the donations we do not pay to meet the lawyers' fees....."
I was silenced.
"class III dominated pension associations are better. There are committees formed of willing volunteers to help colleagues in distress"
"They understand one another better perhaps," I said.
A sigh emerged. The lift had reached the ground floor by then.
Sans another word, he made his way.
The Editor felt he was left in a desert. Sooner, he composed himself. This time he said to himself: At least this updation issue has done one good thing. But for that, people of this age would never have assembled in this number.
In the last fifteen years, as a habit which has become possibly part of his charter he was talking to at least a couple of our friends from all cadres. Not on one day. Everyday. Just to make sure that our own people with whom we had the fortune of working with, do know they are remembered ! Quite often, they say, they are happy to hear some friend like me once in a blue moon. A few of them thought they continue as EDs, albeit.
But how many of us talk with our own acquaintances of our past ? Do we really care for our colleagues !
Pondering over, I steadied my steps to the dining hall.
The lunch could not be colder. But I was hungry enough to swallow it.
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