Hi my name is Raju. I am 22 years old. I belong to a small village “sonahula” in Darbhanga district of Bihar. I work in S-4 mess of Sapphire Hostel of Indian School of Mines,Dhanbad. I have been working here for last 7 years. My family consists of my old parents, two brothers and three sisters. I am the only breadwinner for my family.
My workplace Indian School of Mines(ISM),Dhanbad is an engineering college where best of minds(as they say) selected through prestigious IITJEE are trained for 4 years to convert them in perfect engineers. This is what the world thinks of this place. But in actuality this place produces the best smokers, drinkers and “some” good engineers. I am one of the chosen ones to serve food to this weird group of people.
My day begins at 5 am in the morning every single day. My team prepares the morning breakfast according to the particular day’s menu. The breakfast is served to students and by 10 am this breakfast session is over. Next crucial session is lunch session which starts at 12pm and runs till 2:30 pm. The timing is not so rigid and I have to attend some post 2:30 pm arrivals also. By 3-3:30 pm I am free for a short period of time only to come back to work at 6 pm or 7 pm depending on the complexity and variation of food to be served. The evening session begins at 8:00 pm and runs till 10:00 pm. Again the timing is not so rigid and I attend some post 10pm arrivals also. I have to play this test match-all the three sessions every day with no exception. There is no Saturday, no Sunday for me. Holy,Diwali and other vacations also does not exist for me. I am off the work sometimes but that is not official. My masters expect me to be at the dining table each session every day and I am too kind to disappoint them.
I work at a place where aliens are discussed. I do not know the vocabulary my masters used to communicate with each others. TOM, MOS, Bessel and Fourier seems extraterrestrial materials (or persons or place whatever they are) to me. They keep popping in from nowhere and I like a bewildered child wonder who they are, what they do and why they are so important for our masters. I can only guess that these are the terminologies my masters have to speak for the rest of their life to be called engineers.
I have seen my masters in varying emotional situations: laughter, happiness, depression, frustration, rejection, selection and so on. I have been witness to all the emotional shifting they undergo in their day to day life. Some of my masters are not so loquacious. They keep it most of the times to themselves. They come, take their food and go without uttering a single word if they are working on some top secret CIA project and opening their mouth will do unprecedented damage to their project: hence that behavior. Some of my masters keep chirping all the time like there is nothing else for them to do at this place. I have to make sure that my presence does not affect the way they live their little time in mess.
Hostel mess is a place where all the professors are brought under the knife and butchered multiple times by their “beloved” students. I am sure if professor Saxena or Dr. Mitra has to sue a student for making nasty and derogatory assessment of their teaching style and their personality assassination I will be their best evidence. I wonder why my masters ever got sad. If I am given a laptop and a cozy quilt and if I have nothing to worry about the fooding and lodging I will be the happiest creature on this planet. Anyway that’s a dream and I know I am never going to reach there in this life.
Working at this place is in itself a unique experience. It brings different type of emotions to me depending upon the treatment I receive from my masters. Sometimes I am happy, sometimes I feel sad. Every place in this universe has some psycho, some good persons and some bad persons and this place is not exception to it. Sometimes there is a delay in delivery system or salt concentration in the food is not in the proportion they desire (wow am I talking “their” language), I get a good bashing and humiliating chiding. Sometimes more than 2 masters call my name at the same time and I fall into dilemma to decide which one to attend without offending the other ones. All this I have to do only for 2000 rupees a month.
Each time there is a theft in the hostel, I and my fellow colleagues are the first one to be suspected. Our integrity is questioned. Despite all our excellent service record to this place for so many years, our sincere loyalty and our commitment to this work we are suspected, questioned and disgusted. I want to cry, I want to complain but I know my limitations and so I forget all the folly words I have heard, all the unfair treatment I have received and keep doing my work unquestioned continuously without any complaint for I am the chosen one to serve these “best” minds. This is me Raju and this is my story.
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