Dateline January 19, 2015 Saratchandra had called darkness "terrifyingly beautiful." I feel like calling PATC's white-foamed winter morning PT "terrifyingly beautiful." There, I've said it! Today was the last sweet day before this beauty would become elusive. The session began at 8:30 as usual. As I mentioned in yesterday's writing, PATC runs on seconds. The first session was KEO (Know Each Other) — an icebreaking session. Our class coordinator sir arrived. He speaks quite charmingly, looks smart too. A refined man. Honors and Master's in Computer Science. He handed each of us a sheet and asked us to write some points about ourselves. Then our task was to exchange sheets with the person beside us — give mine to them, take theirs. After learning about each other, we'd go up front and introduce them to everyone. They would do the same for us. One point on the sheet was: What is the most memorable moment of your life? Almost everyone wrote: the moment they learned their BCS exam results. A job gives people a different kind of happiness. I found one thing amusing. When introducing their partners, many kept saying, "He is Mister... my best friend..." A curious mind wants to know — best friend? In just a few minutes?! This introduction session was in English. Some spoke such rapidly garbled English while introducing that nothing could be understood. Watching them, I silently sang, "You speak so much yet say nothing at all. I've given up hope of understanding your language..." One thing brought me great peace — not everyone was married; some were bachelors. Ah, ah! What peace! My mother thinks everyone's getting married. If I could bring her here to meet these winter-chapped-lip-smiling happy bachelors, it would bring millions of peace. Our course coordinator informed us that after finishing the 1:15 session and lunch, we needed to go to our rooms, drop our bags, get ready, and be at reception by 1:50. Cars would be waiting to take us to lay wreaths at the National Memorial. 1:50 means before 1 hour 50 minutes 1 second strikes! No photography allowed in any PATC program, can't even use mobile phones. What a voice he had! That voice was firm and stern yet strangely warm. The voice of a civil servant. Next was the health checkup. Watching trainees walk through PATC's corridors is quite a sight. Have you seen ants marching in formation? Remember how they move? One after another, no one overtaking anyone. Say one line is coming from the east, another from the south. Both heading north. What do the ants do? Neither line stops, they just pause briefly now and then. The eastern line merges with the northern one. No chaos — everyone waits a bit, one ant at a time finds its place in the line. That's how it works, right? Here we too move exactly like ants. Looking from one side of the corridor to the other, watching this scene reminds you of marching ants. The ant colony was going for health checkup. I was in that colony too. The area around the medical center is enchanting. Mango, guava, jackfruit, gooseberry trees among various fruit trees, some distant shrubs trimmed into yellowish-green shapes, ornamental plants galore, orchid festivals — all this together makes the medical center seem like an irresistible attraction! One might wish to fall ill just to visit here repeatedly; anyone might feel sad if they don't fall sick! We went there, made a neighboring room our waiting area, and waited for our turn. Everyone told the doctor their problems. I wondered what to say! I don't have any problems! Oh wait, I do! Why doesn't my nose itch? Why don't I feel hungry after eating rice? Why does my head ache but not my hair? Why don't I feel hot in this cold? No! How can I say such things! I went to the doctor and said nothing. The doctor checked me and seemed a bit disappointed. Still, something had to be said! He said, "Your training is in winter, be very careful." Suddenly it struck me — got it! I said, "Sir, I have a cold problem. It might get worse if I do PT in the morning." He immediately replied, "That's exactly why I said be careful, wear warm clothes to PT." I realized there was no point, no point at all. No happiness here, you fool! I saluted the doctor and left. Once upon a time students used to fail. In those days, those who failed would become overnight celebrities. Stars from the sky seemed to descend to earth. Then came the GPA system. Something happened! Competition increased, getting mediocre or poor results became difficult, and even many good students started getting lost. Earth's stars began fading into the sky. The evaluation system changed, but students' qualitative standards didn't improve. Anyway, the next session was an introductory class about how we'd be evaluated at PATC. Over these 6 months, a separate pen-picture report would be written about each of us. It would contain what I'm like, what they thought and understood about me during these 6 months. Something would definitely be written there! For instance, one trainee's report read, "He is good, but prefers to stay in solitude." This became a topic of discussion. Everyone concluded, "Ah, he prefers solitude means he's somewhat of a poet-literary type. Doesn't socialize much." Why should this be? This isn't right. Now my point is, why can't we break free from this stereotype? Do only poets and writers prefer solitude? I don't think so. We never heard that Dostoevsky wrote his works in complete solitude. Reading 'Lust for Life,' we learn that Van Gogh or Paul Gauguin didn't paint many of their pictures in peaceful, meditative environments. Sandeepan-Shakti didn't go to hermitages to write stories and poems. Anyway, next came the IT section in-charge sir. From him we learned that PATC has the strongest WiFi network among all government organizations in Bangladesh. One of his many important instructions was, "Smartphones won't be given WiFi connectivity. We're providing MAC addresses for your laptops to use WiFi, but under no circumstances should you access adult sites on lab computers or laptops." (Even without saying the last part, would anyone publicly access such sites in the lab instead of their rooms? Who knows! Of course, different people have different tastes; perhaps sir didn't want to take risks! Even if someone accessed them, at least he could say, "I did forbid you, didn't I? Then why did you?") The 1:15 session ended at 1:20, meaning 300 seconds late! And that too in today's packed schedule! Everyone rushed toward the dining hall! The clinking of spoons began at the dining table, that thousand-year-old clinking. At exactly 1:50, we all gathered in front of reception. Buses were assigned according to roll numbers. We boarded the bus, and it sped toward the memorial. I have a mental problem — I get enchanted by even the tiniest beauties. Even the most mundane everyday matters captivate me. I can think for hours about nature's most trivial games and feel happy enough to burst into laughter. On the way, I saw barren crop fields on both sides of the road, where stubble awaited dawn's light in the night's dew. The dense invitation of rows of trees made me want to touch and feel their winter sun-soaked gray shadows. Sometimes I felt like jumping off the bus right then and running through those fields! I couldn't! I have a job, after all! I found consolation in Jibanananda... "There is no pure job on earth." This way the bus reached the National Memorial complex. Getting off here, I saw everything still sleeping under fog's soft blanket. Some lovers' hair mingled with the wool of their beloved's sweaters. Nearby played, "Open all the windows..." An old man who lost his son before growing old himself sat under a eucalyptus tree, trying to balance life's accounts with his tired old thumb. The ant line in sarees and suits moved forward. Watching this in amazed wonder, the peanut vendors forgot to sell peanuts; the peanuts in their baskets were rapidly disappearing into their own stomachs! We looked like penguins. Old and young men stood watching the penguin colony's activities. The way the entire complex has been arranged — you won't find such heart-stirring beauty's altar anywhere else in the world even if you spend all your overflowing dollars. I can bet that even the world's greatest writer would be defeated trying to capture winter memorial's appeal. Our memorial is more beautiful than any beautiful park in the world. Have you read Sunil's 'In the Land of Pictures, in the Land of Poetry'? The path he walked with Marguerite — today I felt the taste of that path here! Alas! Marguerite wasn't beside me, all of Marguerite's paternal and maternal cousins were there instead. It felt like some great poet's poetry notebook had mistakenly become a memorial! "This sublime call is for all of you, come, step out into this picture-like land once..." Winter has a magic. It was somehow making the surrounding mystical trees and the gentle lake unclear and distant in misty haze. Beauty's attraction lies in concealment. It can be touched by the heart, not by hand. I desperately wanted to sit under the trees gazing at the lake, touch the wet earth, smell the wildflowers hiding in the grass, learn how winter insects move in tree bark crevices, wander around the memorial and whisper to our sleeping brothers, "We are awake, you sleep in peace." None of it happened! I returned to the ant line. We are civil ants! We are civil penguins! To those reading this, does anyone know the names of the memorial's trees? Today I asked everyone I met beside me about the trees' names. I learned only a couple of names. Those trees are so lovely. How can I not know their names? They're so very dear! If anyone knows, please tell me. I want to take you there again, wander around, have a little chat with the trees.
The amusing thing is, due to the adverse situation in the country today, a police car was constantly on security duty for our convoy of eight vehicles. There was one ASI in charge of three constables. Our group consisted of about 40 ASP trainee officers (in our Rector Sir’s words, we are ‘student officers’). At that moment, a dialogue from Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing came to mind:
Claudio: Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signor Leonato?
Benedick: I noted her not, but I looked on her.
Today’s last session was ‘Rector’s Tea’—something like ‘Coffee with Karan,’ but undoubtedly much weightier in significance. Rector Sir had organized this ‘tea with talk’ session to introduce us to all the PATC faculty members. Everyone present at this session was either a high-ranking government official or a high-profile academician. They introduced themselves one by one. Then came our turn. There were some amusing incidents during this introduction phase. Standing before such senior officers to introduce ourselves, many of us got nervous and caused quite a stir. Let me share a few:
# Many forgot to say “Sir” after saying “Assalamu Alaikum.” Some forgot to give the greeting altogether. Rector Sir reminded them later.
# While introducing themselves in English, many said, “I am I am…”
# Many said, “My name is MD Mohammad…”
# There was continuous stuttering in English!
It’s not that we were nervous because we don’t know English. To those candidates who are worried about feeling nervous during viva examinations, I say: even after getting the job, we still don’t have the audacity not to feel nervous when speaking in front of our bosses. This must have been the case during job interviews too. Feeling nervous in front of the boss is also a form of common courtesy. So, feel nervous with a cheerful heart, get the job with a smile.
I’m ending this piece with four heart-warming thoughts:
One. The orchid plants in our corridor that I mentioned yesterday—I saw flowers on seven of them today. Yellow, red, purple, and blue orchid flowers. These flowers are so beautiful, so beautiful… one could come to PATC just to see these flowers.
Two. In my beloved rose garden today, I saw a flock of white swans. They were pecking at something in the grass with their beaks. What a magnificent sight! It felt like white clouds were floating by.
Three. Our movement at PATC is somewhat restricted. We can’t go everywhere we want. Some places are beautifully arranged and well-organized. Water cascades from fountains, with marble stones placed around them. Beside them, money plants, crotons, and orchids are arranged in perfect harmony. While walking through one such place today, I discovered a coffee shop. Outside the shop, one could sit in chairs and luxuriously spread the warmth of coffee steam across lips moistened by the fog. I am someone who lives for coffee. This coffee corner seems like an oasis for these six months! The kiss-shivers of Nescafe’s paper cups, the futile search for a lover’s lip-warmth! It’s like chasing after the phoenix!
Four. Ignoring the physical warmth of this winter’s lonely night’s (incorporeal) beloved, tomorrow at 6 AM, I must run to the field in white attire. For PT. In Bhupen Hazarika’s tune… This field is for you, PT is for you, can’t you bear a little pain? O friend… you make your blanket your lover, you create heaven in your bed, if you get caught by CC Sir, won’t you feel ashamed? O friend… (Those who are having trouble understanding, please take the trouble to read yesterday’s piece.) Before the night ends, just thinking about morning PT makes my heart feel good with fear. I feel like dancing with joy at the top of a coconut tree. O Earth! Be divided, I climb the tree!