The return of the prodigal son

It was a Sunday.I was born in a small town in the district of Murshidabad called (Raghunathganj) Jangipur.

I remember the day very fondly when I first entered the premises of State Bank of India not as a customer but as an employee. It was long ago. But the day is very clear on my vision.I was just 20 then.,I was nervous to enter into the room of the Branch Manager to whom I had to report with my appointment letter. At that time, State Bank of India was very glamorous and people envy those who worked in that institution.

My first day in the Bank went peacefully. My initial nervousness meltdown. My first branch was a small one, there was not much work and at that time Bank was not required to do varieties of work. It was simple deposits accounts and a little bit of advance and general banking. So life was not much hard. But entering into the service life so early made me rebellious within a few weeks. I started missing my friends every evening

I am a rich man. Rich with plenty of time. I wake up early in the morning. I rise before the sun rises. And my mind starts working instantly what next, what next? I get out of my home. There is hardly any person on the streets and I start my walk rather a long march. I walk from one street to another. I walk in different directions. But there is hardly any destination for me. Nowhere to reach.

How painful, it is for a man who has started his journey long ago, could not find any destination. Do We really have any destination? Or am I not inclined to reach to any particular station? Possibly, the second one is right. I never intend to reach anywhere where I can end my journey and possibly rest in peace. But RIP is used for the dead men and to be very honest, nobody wants to rest in peace as also me.

I envy those people who appear to be fully composed with their day to day mundane activities and not complaining about anything. They possibly are resting in peace. Did they really exist? I doubt after seeing all those people who are well placed and doing all the worldly activities but the doors and windows of their minds are closed. But I can not blame them. They are organised that way. And perhaps this is the way, most of us are usually are accustomed to surviving.