I always like to forget it. Want to forget, not because it was an experience which I do not like to remember. In fact it was all about something that I could not remember. I forgot everything was that which really happened....
Sometimes I used to say that I am a freelance journalist. Writing about something is my hobby. Then I started writing about people. I met them. Met them at all places. Talked to them. Mostly I confined myself to those who appeared to be keeping an increasing amount of interest in organisation improvment matters.
In an insurance organisation where I worked,I was out meeting different persons. I talked to them about the organisation. I discussed with them about the future of the organisation. I talked to them of changes to be brought about to improve its working at all levels. And I could find, they evinced keen interest in such matters. That was a satisfying experience.
I moved about throughout the length and breadth of the country. Met people. Wrote what they were telling me.
I started recording what these people had talked to me. These interviews were published. Such interviews did help me a lot when I approached others at higher levels of the organisation. Now, because of my track record, more dignitaries came forward and talked to me. They evinced confidence in me, in my work and they were encouraging me for the initiative I have been taking in such matters. In the process I found my confidence was going up. It was rising in crescendo.
Seeing my enthusiasm, more persons came forward to help me. They offered to allot me time for an interview. Slowly but surely I was realising that I am gaining more acceptance and success.
Even the country head of the organisation promised to talk to me. I waited for this particular appointment. It was not easy meeting him. But his Secretary promised to allot some time upon my request for the same. Then the Secretary put forth conditions: I should stay at a nearby place. Leave my telephone number with him. And he may call me any time for the all important interview with the country head. I could only say 'yes' to this proposal. Afterall such an interview meant many things to me. A tag of what can be called as some amount of prestige could be attached to it. To meet the country head of such a prestigious organisation was no easy thing...
Days passed by. I waited for the all important appointment. But I could not get the date and time. Even after a week's stay at that place which was about a thousand kilometres or so away from my home town, the green signal for the appointment was not forthcoming...
Then one day around 9 pm came the call from the Secretary. I was really very happy. Rather thrilled. I was a little excited too. I knew I was emerging successful in my endeavour to meet the head of the organisation and interview him to be published later. I rushed to the office. I was down with some kind of a fear.
I wondered for a moment what I would talk to him. What questions I would ask him, I really wondered. Although it was nearly a week since I planned the interview, I could not finalise the questions I should ask him. I pondered over. It was a very serious mistake on my side.
Then, without bothering much about all these things,I moved. I was taken inside the large hall where my boss was sitting. Secretary sat beside. There was also another person sitting. I didn't know him. My heart was beating. Such beating that I thought for a moment it was coming to a stop. There was perspiration all over my body. My mouth had gone dry. Who would give me a glass of water ? Yes, a glass of water... There was no possibility of myself getting it.
Time was ticking away. Interview doesn't start. The secretary looked at me. Others were also staring at me. But I could not ask a single question. Finally I uttered something. Mumbled. I don't remember what happened thereafter. I sat there for some time. I did ask questions. I got the answers too. At the end of the whole drama, I got out. Now a little tired but relaxed. Relaxed because there was a sense of relief that I finally got out of the chamber. The interview was over. Whether it was an interview or no interview, atleast I am a free man now !
The next day I returned to my native town. On my way back I was all along wondering what I had really talked to the country head. I had promised to prepare the text of the interview and send to his secretary for approval. That made me a little nervous...
To me,it was all a question of remembering something. It was also a question of forgetting everything. I had to prepare a draft. Come what may, I set out to do it. I worked on it. I prepared a draft and also managed to get the approval from the country head.
Several years have since passed by. I did interview several others therafter and prominently got it published also. But even now, after many years,I am still wondering what my country head had talked to me.
That thought disturbs me. Some uneasiness emerges. A constant worry or a regret of not doing a job well haunts me. Haunts me even now.
At the end of all, let me assure you, I published the interview. There was appreciation coming from all but only I knew my plight and the experiences I had gone through. I didn't remember anything at all. That I interviewed him is a fact. All that it followed was something which I would like to forget.... Forget now and ever after...
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