TCS had organized a picnic to 'Ibiza'. My curiosity was limited to see something new and also to observe people. What's it that distinguishes TCS-ers from TIL-ians?

And in the larger sense Bengalis from Mumbaites.

Early morning as we reached the designated startup point for the bus, we were greeted by a three four people most of whom were daily boarders of the TCS bus. By 8:10 the bus started and the journey to Ibizha was through Diamond Harbor (D.H.) Road through Behala Chowrastha. We could see the metro stations as they lined the D.H Road and an urge to go by the Metro resurfaced. Tomorrow, maybe!

It was the same one cassette being played again and again and it was too boring to keep on hearing “Gupt, Gupt” at each point. Thankfully, the driver was bitten by the cost cutting bug and kept on switching off the music after each song, thus conserving the battery. Then somebody used to shout “Music” and it was switched on – this being repeated to the point of exasperation.

The D.H. Road consists of mainly poverty and dirt interspersed with people in or out of trams.

There was some marathon race being organized on the roads and all vehicles were made to stand at the side (perhaps cheer the participants, too!) as they passed by. Such a criminal wastage of time! Not for us, but for those who might be in urgency. In Mumbai, by this time there would have been flared tempers and roadside brawls accompanied with incessant honking of horns. But perhaps, no Kolkatan has been found to be in urgency. Everybody moves as if they have all the time in the world.

Ibiza welcomed us with its theme song and I soon realized the 'reputed' marketing skills of TCS. The person who had said that it was a 'great' spot was conspicuous in his absence. Had he been there, I might have just asked him the road back.

In an area as big as Shivaj Park, a garden, a swimming pool, a restaurant, an underground disco, some sea saws, a winding puddle of water (where people could boat and row), a lawn tennis court, a couple of badminton courts, a volley ball court and a golf course (though I did not find where could golf be played in that spot), were packed.

The moment we reached there, people first turned to the food corner - enjoying what a typically Bengali enjoys the most. No points for guessing, how heavy the breakfast was and its chief constituent! As I rambled around, searching for something worth observing, nothing except smoke and food met my eye. The blaring music played the same song again and again.

In about half an hour as people finished their breakfast, out came the beer vendor and people settled into corners with a beer bottle in hand. There was a swimming pool (3’ to 5’) and I decided it was too deep for me to enter and chose to sit beside it. The pool side coolness was better than the cold water.

The poolside looked alluring with reclining wooden chairs - those that we see on beach sides where gorgeous bay-watch models tan their fair skin – under the shade of bottle palm trees. I chose a particular one and settled into the heaven of silent observation. Looking at my state, I smiled as I recollected Omar Khaiyyam's Rubaiyat

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,

A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse---

and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness---

And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

The idea of joy for me is this. I am though stretching the similarity a bit too far, but then I should be forgiven for there wasn’t exactly anything worth doing.

The idea of joy for these people was enjoying beer, cricket and football. Couples were destined to be formed, as they kept on exercising their feet and mouth – each one trying to slim the other in the exercise.

Soon it was lunchtime (Oh! How fast time flies). It is indecent to comment about the food habits of people, and especially of people who are passionate about food, but suffice it would be to say that even in my most hungriest period can I not eat as much as these people seem to enjoy each day. (I remembered the surprised face of the pantry person in TCS when he raised his eyebrows as I asked him to stop serving me rice beyond the first serving to which he took insult and gave me two more servings, which created a mountain of rice in my plate. Since then I have stopped opposing the pantry person, and meekly throw away what I cannot eat as I see my ideologies of thousands of under-fed people around the world go down the dustbin with the rice)

Vegetarian counters lay as outcastes in a pre-Independence India, till I reached as their savior. The non-vegetarian counters had longer queues than those at Dadar station ticket counter after the Indrayani arrives.

Post lunch, sleep and beer again took center stage. By this time the sun was troubling me and the only thing that made me continue where I sat was the fact that there was nowhere else to go. There were some games organized for kids, where enthusiastic parents out-numbered the kids.

My observations did turn quite often to a particular girl - very feminine and quite lost. She was seen in various groups, perhaps gelling with any company that she got, though could not really be considered a part of it. Seeing her, observing her, I felt that perhaps there are people like me here too!

Post lunch at around four, tea was again served and so were snacks but by this time I was quite nauseated by the sight of food to help myself.

People seemed to be enjoying the day, while I stood there quite lost in searching what exactly was worth enjoying out here. I was reminded of the sole TIL picnic that I attended to Tikuji-ni-wadi and felt how it was something worth remembering - perhaps because at that time I had friends with me and had not grown as solitary as I am these days. Perhaps, it was also because the spot was really huge and you could lie under the shades of trees and not do anything but smell the air and feel the wind get to your bones. Personally, this picnic did not come anywhere near that picnic. The senior people were conspicuous in their absence while for the TIL picnic Dr. Jain was present with his family. There were 12 buses not completely occupied this time, while in TIL we had 36 packed buses with no bus left to hire in Mumbai on that January 30, 1998. Anyway, comparison’s with TCS are not on cards since it’s an issue on which there would be locked horns - given the personal experience of the pro-employee and anti-employee attitude that distinguishes these two companies - other than the bottom lines. By this time, the disco had started and people had gone berserk out there. It was hot and the heat was increasing as songs raised the tempo. Girls pitched it and chaos reigned out there with drunken boys creating pandemonium and sweat smell filling the air like smoke on Kolkatan streets at night.

The return journey had mosquitoes and traffic jams spoiling sleep and it took quite over two hours to reach back.

Search for Bengali beauty still remained elusive…. Except perhaps for one particular instant that created magic leaving memories

That Flash upon the Inward eye,

Like a bliss of solitude

The only other good thing to have happened throughout the day was the screening of American Beauty on Star Movies at night.