I refrain from writing here primarily because I do not think I have much to say and also because I do not think that many people want to hear me (and the fault is mutual--I must admit). This one is about times and things I miss--things that come to memory only faintly. This one is also about people and the way they were. Needless to say, it is largely about how I was.
I have a new job--a plush room with a nice chair and books all around. I remember my first office, up a staircase walled with soot, leaving behind the ground floor kitchen of a Chinese eatery on 17 Central Avenue. I remember a store room given to me for keeping marketing things--banners, coasters, pens, pads, pencils and there I found a beautiful book called Chhotoder Omnibus by Leela Majumdar. After a long hiatus, I called up Suvro Sir and got back in touch. I sent him the book. I remember going back to Durgapur and staying with him for the first time. I remember the Buransh he treated me to. Sir was older and much mellower and I as a student regretted it. I secretly thought that this is what marriage and shonsar does to a firebrand revolutionary. I had heard of Santosh Rana and Charu Majumdar, I had seen hordes of turncoats, but Suvro Chatterjee was the only revolutionary we had seen 'live'.
I will get married and am far far away from Sir. I will never again travel by an SBSTC bus with the wind and the rain lashing through the window.
I miss the Coalfield Express and the second class ride from Howrah to Durgapur. The train speeding through green rice fields, whistling through stations and stopping dutifully at Bardhaman. They used to serve chicken cutlets on Black diamond in the evenings. Recently, I got a taste of something similar on Ispat Express. Food on Rajdhani is such a dampener. And, they don't let vendors come on board.
As a little boy I had the pleasure of sneaking into my father's 'dark room' where he used a Swetlana enlarger to develop his photographs. That enlarger will never be used again. Nor will the Agfa projector be used ever again. It was through this projector that I had seen the Pir Panjal in Manali. This was long before any internet and long before any of my friends had seen a projector.
My father was very possessive about his books. He had lost many to friends. He was a reluctant lender. It was in 1997 that Suvro Sir needed a volume of Tagore's works. He was working on an anthology for the OUP under the editorship of Sukanta Chaudhuri. I lend him a volume. That was one of my proudest moments--Sir borrowing a copy from a weak student in class. Years later when Sukanta Chaudhuri became my teacher, I wondered how he could have ever edited my Sir. And again, when I saw the book, I was loathe to see that the hack who edited the book could not get rid of typos in the credit page even after several reprints.
In Delhi, I'll never forget Aaaksh and my discovery of the Khan Market. It was the only place we ever went to. In fact, we spent years in Delhi roaming about the city together and could visit the Safdurjung Tomb only last Saturday. But, we had been to Bahari Sons and Khan Chacha. I even made Aakash buy a copy of Steve Mcurry's Monsoon.
My first date was in C R Park over fried fish. I just remembered that I've never gone back to that shop ever again. God alone knows if we can go back over there before we tie the knot this December.
My first sight of the Himalayas was in Mussoorie. We had taken a state bus from Dehra Doon. Clouds drifted into the bus. Clouds hung low over the mountains. It was misty when we reached there. Father and I walked up to Lal Tibba, up above Ruskin Bond's cottage. My father will never climb up to that place. In fact, Baba will never go to Mussoorie again. But, I will keep going back to Mussoorie.
I have never done Darjeeling with Baba. This time, he and I will board the Darjeeling mail together. It is on 8 December. It will be a first class coach and for the first time we will be on a first class coach, together. He will go with me to get me married. But, we will not do Darjeeling together. Will we?
But, this post is not to brood over gloom. It is to cherish, people and memories.
Travelling with teachers is a luxury. I have travelled with two of my teachers and those have been extremely rewarding experiences. the first sojourn was not with Sir. It was with Professor Da Silva in Darjeeling. Yes, I have done a vacation with Beriie and Suvro Sir, both. I have thrown scare to the winds and done as much. All those Xaverians who have been lucky to see these two mavericks in their life time will know what I mean. But, there are flip sides to things as well. I being portly and rotund find it difficult to keep pace with these extremely agile men, especially Sir. And, Sir does not 'love' food. He just reads or walks. In Chakrata, there was a steep climb from the bungalow where we had put up. After doing the climb at a rabid pace, we climbed further up into the petite bazaar. I was enticed by the jalebis and gulab jamuns. I could not garner the temerity to suggest a food break. But, then Sir was mellowed by Boudi's mediation. Uff!
I also remember taking him to Khan market and Choco La. We had a very strong chocolate drink. I was severely reprimanded for ordering an 'extremely expensive' fare and also for ' so much of strong chocolate' that led to 'migraine' and ' surfeit'. Poor Pupu and me!
This time, it will be different. We will start right from the Station. But, that will be another blog....
I have a new job--a plush room with a nice chair and books all around. I remember my first office, up a staircase walled with soot, leaving behind the ground floor kitchen of a Chinese eatery on 17 Central Avenue. I remember a store room given to me for keeping marketing things--banners, coasters, pens, pads, pencils and there I found a beautiful book called Chhotoder Omnibus by Leela Majumdar. After a long hiatus, I called up Suvro Sir and got back in touch. I sent him the book. I remember going back to Durgapur and staying with him for the first time. I remember the Buransh he treated me to. Sir was older and much mellower and I as a student regretted it. I secretly thought that this is what marriage and shonsar does to a firebrand revolutionary. I had heard of Santosh Rana and Charu Majumdar, I had seen hordes of turncoats, but Suvro Chatterjee was the only revolutionary we had seen 'live'.
I will get married and am far far away from Sir. I will never again travel by an SBSTC bus with the wind and the rain lashing through the window.
I miss the Coalfield Express and the second class ride from Howrah to Durgapur. The train speeding through green rice fields, whistling through stations and stopping dutifully at Bardhaman. They used to serve chicken cutlets on Black diamond in the evenings. Recently, I got a taste of something similar on Ispat Express. Food on Rajdhani is such a dampener. And, they don't let vendors come on board.
As a little boy I had the pleasure of sneaking into my father's 'dark room' where he used a Swetlana enlarger to develop his photographs. That enlarger will never be used again. Nor will the Agfa projector be used ever again. It was through this projector that I had seen the Pir Panjal in Manali. This was long before any internet and long before any of my friends had seen a projector.
My father was very possessive about his books. He had lost many to friends. He was a reluctant lender. It was in 1997 that Suvro Sir needed a volume of Tagore's works. He was working on an anthology for the OUP under the editorship of Sukanta Chaudhuri. I lend him a volume. That was one of my proudest moments--Sir borrowing a copy from a weak student in class. Years later when Sukanta Chaudhuri became my teacher, I wondered how he could have ever edited my Sir. And again, when I saw the book, I was loathe to see that the hack who edited the book could not get rid of typos in the credit page even after several reprints.
In Delhi, I'll never forget Aaaksh and my discovery of the Khan Market. It was the only place we ever went to. In fact, we spent years in Delhi roaming about the city together and could visit the Safdurjung Tomb only last Saturday. But, we had been to Bahari Sons and Khan Chacha. I even made Aakash buy a copy of Steve Mcurry's Monsoon.
My first date was in C R Park over fried fish. I just remembered that I've never gone back to that shop ever again. God alone knows if we can go back over there before we tie the knot this December.
My first sight of the Himalayas was in Mussoorie. We had taken a state bus from Dehra Doon. Clouds drifted into the bus. Clouds hung low over the mountains. It was misty when we reached there. Father and I walked up to Lal Tibba, up above Ruskin Bond's cottage. My father will never climb up to that place. In fact, Baba will never go to Mussoorie again. But, I will keep going back to Mussoorie.
I have never done Darjeeling with Baba. This time, he and I will board the Darjeeling mail together. It is on 8 December. It will be a first class coach and for the first time we will be on a first class coach, together. He will go with me to get me married. But, we will not do Darjeeling together. Will we?
But, this post is not to brood over gloom. It is to cherish, people and memories.
Travelling with teachers is a luxury. I have travelled with two of my teachers and those have been extremely rewarding experiences. the first sojourn was not with Sir. It was with Professor Da Silva in Darjeeling. Yes, I have done a vacation with Beriie and Suvro Sir, both. I have thrown scare to the winds and done as much. All those Xaverians who have been lucky to see these two mavericks in their life time will know what I mean. But, there are flip sides to things as well. I being portly and rotund find it difficult to keep pace with these extremely agile men, especially Sir. And, Sir does not 'love' food. He just reads or walks. In Chakrata, there was a steep climb from the bungalow where we had put up. After doing the climb at a rabid pace, we climbed further up into the petite bazaar. I was enticed by the jalebis and gulab jamuns. I could not garner the temerity to suggest a food break. But, then Sir was mellowed by Boudi's mediation. Uff!
I also remember taking him to Khan market and Choco La. We had a very strong chocolate drink. I was severely reprimanded for ordering an 'extremely expensive' fare and also for ' so much of strong chocolate' that led to 'migraine' and ' surfeit'. Poor Pupu and me!
This time, it will be different. We will start right from the Station. But, that will be another blog....
