Picnic

Ah! Those were the days! I remember them fondly as being full of fun and frolic, carefree times - “as free as the wind blows…” 

We were employed at a nationalized bank in Calcutta. Our “core” group consisted of Debuda aka “Kendriya Sarkar”, (we also had a Rajya Sarkar) Swapanda, Tapanda aka “Paka Sur”, Siddhartha, Subrata, Sasanka, Pronab, Ajoy and yours truly. We played TT, we staged plays, and we organized cultural programmes. During lunch recess, especially in the winter season, we used to park ourselves in front of S.N. College for the sight of women. In spite of all these “extra-curricular” activities, we worked and worked sincerely. Usually, there were no tasks kept pending, except during “work-to-rule” periods.

Arranging a cultural programme and a picnic, in winter, were two of our annual rituals. The cultural evenings had to be meticulously planned, well in advance. First, we had to contact the artist or group which our cultural committee had decided on. A percentage of their fee had to be paid in advance to ensure their participation too, we had to make an advance payment to have it reserved on the day.

The real problem started from this time onwards. Raising funds is never an easy task, especially for bankers. We approached our clients and by coaxing and cajoling and after repeated visits, could procure the promised amount, ostensibly towards an advertisement in the magazine to be distributed at the function. The functions went off well and the following few days were spent discussing the escapades of the evening.

The picnics were another cup of tea altogether. I remember one in particular. It was perhaps the winter of ’82. After finalizing on the date we zeroed in on a picnic spot out of the three or four cosy nooks at our disposal. The marketing was distributed among  our colleagues so as not to pressurize anybody. Oh and yes, a super deluxe bus (2X2 seater) was booked for our excursion. Magnum-sized cooking utensils were hired, the pick-up points finalized and then…?

We set out early morning for our destination. Our dresses were colourful - this being winter - the mood was jovial, songs were a-plenty and a general feeling of bonhomie was there all around us.

The picnic was in full swing. Breakfast consisted of boiled eggs, well-buttered sliced bread, cups of steaming coffee (after P had tasted the ‘Milkmaid’ and certified that it was successful maintaining its earlier standard); pray, what more could one desire?

But there was to be more. The liquid elements which had been contributed to by some of us had to be done justice to. The corks were unplugged and the sessions began. We, the teetotallers, became mere observers, somewhat akin to the third umpire of today’s one-day matches. There started a “spirited” performance around us. Some started dancing and others recounted their prowess of yester-years. We hardly knew that we had so many poets and singers amongst us. So much talent! Being politely interested yet keeping our eyes all around we waited for the processing of the main courses. 

At this juncture, S, who had had a peg or two more than his optimum level was observed walking alongside a nearby pond. Within seconds of our warning him to not head in that direction, with a big splash, he was in! Thankfully, nothing serious transpired. However, since his clothes were completely drenched he spent the rest of the time wearing a borrowed jacket over the cook’s towel.

Around 3:00 PM we sat cross-legged on the grass in traditional Bengali style with banana leaves serving for  plates. Piping hot rice, ghee, fried potato, daal, fish kalia, mutton curry, chutney and sweets completed the full course. They disappeared at the same pace as they were being served!

The return journey was quite sombre. It was observed that most of us were dozing off. The participants were dropped off at various places on the route back, closest to their homes. Only S along with P came to my place. As the former’s wet clothes needed some more time to dry, they were put on hangers and the fans were switched on at maximum speed, even in that chilly evening. This set-up did facilitate the drying process, however.

Obviously, my buddy did not want to answer some awkward questions back home. As to how he managed it, only he can tell. But, three decades have passed  and I doubt whether he remembers it himself.