Just a Day too Long

Instantly, I felt bad. The screen of the phone was still lit and it was on my palm, my earlobe was still warm. People were everywhere, pushing me to board crowded bus or just as usual. And, I was perplexed. What I have done?

Just now, I scolded and yelled someone over phone, which in general I never did, as I never liked to be. I raised my voice to my own irritation and sort of un-soothing satisfaction. I used some rude words, which I hated to use against any. And most of all, this guy worked with my NGO and all he was asking to pay him for his service, which I was disagreed for. Am I a bad person?

Setting an NGO is tough; tougher is collection of funds but to get the job done in time is the toughest one. With passing of time, I realized that if the lofty ideology was the foundation stone of a charitable organization, business acumen and shrewdness were everything to grow that nascent. Ideology takes a corner, behind the shadow of day-to-day mudslinging and hard realty. And just like this incident, satisfaction of doing something for others, turned into uncomfortable moments of smashing others. I wish I could apologize.

I locked the phone and inserted it into the tight pocket of jeans with little force. I was waiting for a bus I could board on, at this thickly crowded Dwarka Mor bus stand. The rush would go on till nine. Then the offices would be slept and the glass windows of this sub-urban area would be seen lit from distance until midnight.

Being one of founders, my attachment to this organization was on high tone, as the expectations of others on my role. But deep inside me, I knew, I was not at par those expectations. I left an infant at the age of one to pursue my own career, leaving the responsibility to raise it on others. Even my days with it were heavily shared with my families, friends, hobbies and girlfriend. Once in a three or four months, I used to return to Kolkata and visit NGO office in Barrackpore, and I used to feel ashamed, when all the members and volunteers used to gather in a meeting and shared their stories. I had none.

Angel India Foundation turned six this December, and though it has managed a few impressive projects, but I cannot stop reminding me that others looked up to me for something more, and I was failed. The project of ‘Udaan’, even after running five years at a remote insurgent area like Bandowan continuously, failed to spread beyond it. And I failed to pursue the expansion process, even after lengthy discussion at Jharkhand among others. The project of ‘Sristi’, where poor women could learn crafts to sustain life, had to be abandoned for want of teachers. Have I gone extra mile to save it?

I knew, these uncomfortable questions had potential to frustrate me for whole day. The crowd was becoming thicker and simultaneously the vigor of push. I made up my mind, and signed in to an auto.

There was no doubt, the success and attention this organization was grabbing, I couldn’t claim even a bit of that. My NGO is organizing a mega-camp for disabled persons in Raipur of Bankura this April with collaboration of who’s who like ALIMCO, Kolkata and The New India Assurance Company, and I did nothing to seal that deal. To get the job done might be the toughest one, but to work passionately at ground, facing impossible situations should be an impressive feat. I could scold or rebuke anyone of them so easily for any lapse on their part, but what about me? I could coldly seek a report and analyze it statistically, but I would never feel the warmth of the field, blessings of those disadvantageous students, women or poor, nor the problems they were facing.

The auto driver asked me something. He must have thought that I was dreaming. Auto has reached to my complex. It was dark already, but this stretch of megacity was preparing for a lit-fest till midnight. I paid him and got out, and started walking towards my apartment. It would be a long night ahead and I have to sort out the payment issue first thing first.