In the late sixties, when I
started my career, carrying a briefcase to work was a fashionable thing to do.
I was deprived of that privilege as I was in the drilling business and my job involved
a daily trip to an oil rig in boots, jeans, tee shirts, a rain coat and an ugly
looking helmet. Most of the days, I came from work drenched in oil and mud.
Years later, my soiled attire might have had raised a suspicion in the mind of my
newly married wife about the type of job I did. In all fairness, she never
expressed her surprise, dismay, shock or frustration. I made no attempt to
impress her either.
I did carry a plastic bag to
work which contained my lunch or snacks depending on the time of the day, a
flask filled with black tea and a bottle of water. They were not the ideal
stuff to carry in a brief case. After all, carrying a fancy briefcase to an oil
rig would be like stepping out to a paddy field in a tuxedo.
Anyway, to satisfy my passion,
I gifted myself a slick looking VIP briefcase which I carried with me when I
took a flight home to Calcutta on my annual holidays. However, the contentment evaporated
soon for two reasons. First, a couple of my friends who had an uncle in Canada and
a cousin in Singapore proudly displayed their imported varieties with exotic
names like Samsonite and Delsey and looked at my desi version with disdain. Second, during those annual flights, I saw a
few of my co-passengers taking out typed sheets of papers from their briefcases
and with faces as grim as one could possibly imagine, scribbled illegible
noting on those papers with gold capped pens. Very highly placed executives, I
thought, who had the burden of running big corporations on their shoulders.
Someday, I would emulate them I fantasized. The stuff I carried in my Brief
Case during those flights were at the most the book I planned to read during
the flight and a few small gifts I carried for my parents and kid sister. I
felt a bit demeaned.
Once I saw a unique way of
utilizing a Brief Case. An elderly man in starched, snow-white dhoti and kurta,
gold rimmed glasses, rings on all the ten fingers requested the charming
stewardess to offload his brief case from the hold above. The flight was in
mid-air and the seatbelt signs were off. The gentleman very fondly placed the
case on his lap and opened it with two soft clicks. He was seated so close; I
could not help but notice that the interior was very specially designed with
small compartments with individual lid on each. The largest compartment
contained freshly washed paans. All other compartments contained finely
cut suparis and wide varieties of masalas. With a fondness one
reserved for planting exotic saplings in a garden, he painstakingly prepared
one mouth-full and almost swallowed it.
He was kind enough to offer me one. I politely declined and sought his
permission to light a cigarette. Smoking in planes was permitted those days.
The gentlemen nodded his agreement but later while disembarking advised me to
quit smoking as it was not good for my health. I complied; thirty years later.
Except for my yearly flights,
my swanky possession remained unused but I took care of it by dusting it regularly.
The opportunity to use it arrived finally. By a stroke of luck, I was
transferred to the branch office in Calcutta on a temporary assignment of 6
months. By that time, I was married and father of a baby daughter. Those were
the days! It was my grand entry to the dream world of classy executives. Almost
overnight, I was carrying my VIP briefcase to work six days a week. My soiled clothes
were replaced by slim-fit trousers, starched white shirt, a jacket and a tie.
It felt great. I stayed with my parents. Strangely, neither my parents nor my
wife showed any sign of awe at my sudden change of fortune. Very soon I started
bringing files and papers home but the dream of scrutinizing the papers, while
on the move, remain unfulfilled. The pot-holed roads of the city led to roller
coaster rides, not conducive to clearing away office files.
Soon, my slick brief case
proved inadequate for the amount of papers I brought home. Buying a thicker
one, known by the exotic name of Overnighters, was impractical as I was aware
of my eventual transfer back to the real world of oil rigs. My uncle stepped in
at this stage. My father’s younger brother, having just retired from a central
government job, offered me his so-called portfolio bag. The bag had a large
capacity indeed and contained at least five times more papers than my slick
version was capable of. I declined to accept it in spite of being assured that
it was made out of genuine Moroccan leather. The thing was out of fashion and I
would not be seen dead carrying it to work. It opened to a big yawn of a shark
like you all might have had seen in the movie “Jaws”. The opening and closing
mechanism of the bag were through the ancient method of buckles and straps. I
rejected the generous offer and my affectionate uncle was thoroughly disappointed.
A few years later, I moved to
the middle east. It was not a field job like before but required occasional
trips to the oil fields. Suddenly, I had easy access to all global products. I
gave myself another generous a gift, a Delsey overnighter. This was very
special with an inside lining equipped with two pen holders and pockets for a
calculator and passport. I was happy with my new possession, I even got it
monogramed with my initials. However, at my new office too, chances of carrying
the thing to work was very limited. There was not even the chance of carrying
my lunch to work as we ate the company cafeteria. I carried it proudly though during short
business trips.
However, the pleasure did not
last very long. Briefcases went out of fashion and carrying a bunch of official
papers became outdated with the advent of laptops. There was a revolutionary
change in the way one functioned professionally. There emerged a new generation
of professionals who mercilessly discarded the coveted brief case. What a pity!
What came in vogue was a crude
looking sack strangely named a Backpack. A backsack or rucksack would have been
more appropriate. That crude looking
stuff was fit for trekking or camping and a totally misfit in a plush office
environment; - so I thought.
A casual walk in the streets
has become rather hazardous since then. Calcutta streets were never very
pedestrian-friendly, thanks to ever increasing number of hawkers. The narrow
space on the pavements, so kindly left for the hapless pedestrians barely allow
two persons to cross each other. Now someone carrying a so-called backpack and
walking with a swagger, would surely hit you hard with the load on his back while
passing by without any display of regret. I wonder whether they carry bricks
inside.
To cut a long story short, I
finally gave up carrying my briefcase in public because I found people, especially
the younger generation, giving me a strange look. I still travel but discarded
my once prized possessions. Instead, I carry a smart looking trolley, gifted by
my daughter, specially designed to carry my laptop, passport and other tit
bits.
I still have the brief cases
stored in some corner of my apartment containing various paper documents.
However, I do not display them in public anymore. Time changed and so did I.
*****
No comments:
Post a Comment