School days – Durga Puja and Bengalis

Durga Puja is the major festival of Bengalis and, over the years, it has undergone numerous changes. My memories of this festival goes back to the time when the number of Pujas were few and those who loved to go pandal hopping could do so with ease.

For me and my brothers, we would go with our father to the most famous pujas of the day – and these included the ones in Baghbazar, Beadon Street and the Calcutta Fire Brigade. These three were must-see ones in North Calcutta mostly because the idol makers of Kumortuli would invariably bring in variety and new themes in the idols and their presentations.
Once the Durga idol in Beadon Street remained unpainted and the postures of the idols gave an impression of frescoes of Ajanta and Ellora caves.
Then Asura, the Demon King, was shown kneeling down in front of Goddess Durga begging for his life and Durga had one of her hands raised as if blessing Asura.
Of course, the festivals in those days relied on decorations in the pandals to attract the people unlike today when it is all about lighting.

And – all leading newspapers would have pages devoted to the Durga images from different locations and eager visitors would take decisions on which pandals to visit. (to be continued …)

School days – pampering the sweet tooth

Sweets are second nature to Bengalis and they will never hesitate to pamper their sweet tooth - I was no exception and I hardly ever tried to escape from the temptations of tasting one more sweet unless an unbearable toothache willed otherwise.
The attractions came in all shapes and sizes – some with hard exteriors like the kadapaks, others with soft kernels like the taal-shash.
The brand names that come to mind straightaway are the sweets of Dwarik Ghosh or Sen Mahasaya or Bhim Nag or the mouthwatering payodhi of Jalajog.
This payodhi was a unique creation of Jalajog and was basically sweet curd with a difference – its color was creamish and taste was out-of-the-world. And, in all its outlets, there hung a huge portrait of Nobel laureate Rabindra Nath Tagore with his testimonial.
Incidentally, while curd in places other than Bengal are sour, the Bengalis love their Mishti Doi – or sweet curd. Another sweet that made its entry into the Bengali market was the Punjabi pedhas. Normally, pedhas would be made of chhana but the Punjabis went in for khoa and added to the attraction by adding flavor of attar.
The shop opened in Shyambazar next to Dwarik Ghosh’s sweet shop and the Punjabi pedhas were an instant hit. The owner of the shop would offer a free gift of a pouch of mouth fresheners – it came in the form of colored suparis (betel nut) and silver colored elaichi (cardamom) flavored with mint and acted as an incentive. (to be continued…)

School days – the fast food culture

In my school days, fast food range was limited and would end with singara (or samosa), a triangular shapes shell made of kneaded flour and stuffed with mashed potato. Then there was the jilebi – a sweet item that required expertise to create. The mixture would be released directly into boiling oil and the creator would keep on twisting his wrists to ensure that the link never got broken.

Another fast food was the kachuri – these came in the form of flat casing of kneaded flour stuffed with a paste of dal. In winter, the stuffing would be of kadaishuti or green peas. Here again there were two varieties – one was with the peas made into paste and the second was with the peas boiled and left whole but seasoned with spices.
The second variety was a specialty of Dwarik Ghosh – these would be fried in pure ghee and the taste would be heavenly. The number of items was always limited every day and would be available only in the evening - unless one arrived on time, one would have to leave empty handed.

Then there were the high end fast foods like Mughlai Paratha or the vegetable chop or mutton cutlets or Kabiraji culets – these were not meant for children hence, I had to wait till college to taste these forbidden fast foods. (to be continued…)

School days – visit to Hogg Market in Christmas

Hogg Market in Kolkata was and still remains a landmark. It was like a labyrinth and, one could very easily get lost in the maze of shops that sold every conceivable item under the sun from jewelry to dress materials and books apart from foreign goods.

One entrance to the famous Hogg Market was beside the Minerva cinema hall, another one next to Lighthouse cinema hall and the third one in front of Globe cinema hall.
My parents would always caution me and my brothers to make a mental note of the shop where we stood and, if lost, to take help from the shopkeepers to get back to the stating point.

A visit to Hogg Market was a sort of ritual and was invariably on the cards for Christmas – the attraction was the freshly baked cakes. The aroma of the oven fresh cakes was sufficient to drive one crazy and I was no exception. It would draw us from far off and since we were regulars in some of the shops, the owners would take special care for us. And, of course, apart from cakes there were large varieties of pastries, toffees, lozenges, candies whose temptations were difficult to resist. (to be continued…)

School days – the heady smell of new books

In those days, our school session followed the English year – January to December. The final exams would be held before school closed for the Christmas vacations and would reopen in the first week of January.

And – schools would reopen with the results of the final exams and the students would know who have been promoted to proceed to the next higher class and who would remain in the old class.
Along with the results, we would get the list of books that had been prescribed for the new classes and would move with our parents to the approved book shop that was situated on Ganesh Chandra Avenue.
Incidentally, the shop would already be having the book list and taking over the lot was just a matter of time. But – the best part was the heady smell of new books all around us.

I would keep moving down the aisles picking up first an Enid Blyton book of the Secret Seven or the Famous Five series. Another favorite was the William series by Richmal Crompton or Billy Bunter series created by Frank Richards. Then there was the Bigglesworth series penned by Captain W E Johns – these books were based on WWII action.
Obviously these new books would get added to our list. (to be continued ....)

School days – a trip to Puri that did not quite happen

It was one of those things that one must learn to take in his (or her) stride. School means the stage of one’s life when he is continuously being exposed to new concepts and learning the tricks of the trade and disappointment is one such experience.
That is why a vacation planned to be spent in the seaside resort of Puri has us brothers excited. We would keep exchanging our thoughts and dreaming up sequences of our train journey and subsequent capers on the sea beaches. We even imagined going on guided tours of the famous Chilka Lake.

The proposed vacation was all the more important to me because a friend had been on vacation to Delhi and he had brought Delhi bus tickets as proof. Similarly, another friend had been to Bombay and he bus tickets of Bombay as proof. Therefore, I wanted to visit Puri and bring back some unique item to prove that I had been there.
Our parents were also no less excited – the vacation would provide a break for them and they went about buying items that could be required.

But – Man proposes and God disposes. And – that is exactly what happened.
All of a sudden the world collapsed around us – it was the disease of pox. It struck without notice and all four brothers fell victim one after another. Our dreams of fantasy remained in the realms of fantasy. (to be continued ...)

School days – my Chinese connections

I have been close to the Chinese ever since my school days – as I have mentioned earlier, my school was on Bowbazar Street and the road was lined with Chinese shoemakers. Hence, on the way to school I had to pass through the stench of raw hide as the craftsmen converted the raw leather into shoes.
Notwithstanding this experience, I had the pleasure of more Chinese company when a Chinese dry cleaning outlet set up shop in the building where I lived in Shyambazar. The name of the shop was Lee Wah and it was run by a man named Victor.
He had an assistant, a Muslim, who drove the three wheeler cycle van to take away the clothes that would come for dry-cleaning to a central location. On his return journey, he would bring back the clothes that had been dry cleaned – then the two of them would arrange the clothes on the hangers for delivery to the customers.
Suddenly, one day, he installed a pair of stuffed animals in the showcase – a mongoose and a snake engaged in a fight. Obviously, it drew the people and they would stop to stare and enjoy – of course, Lee Wah got talked about and that was good for business.
Of course, later, he replaced the stuffed figures with lively ones in the form of a huge aquarium. It became an instant hit.
Another Chinese connection was of cheap books on the footpath – the books came dirt cheap and I still remember the name of one. It was ‘Dadur Dastana’ which, when translated, means the Glove of Grandfather. The story was of a glove that could accommodate any number of living beings – anyone who wanted an entry had to just ask!! (to be continued…)
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School days – learning ABCD of Bengali in Standard VIII

It may seem strange to many that I began to learn ABCD in Bengali when I came to Standard VIII – that too, it was lower level Bengali. It was an embarrassment but that was the prevailing culture of the school and was as per directives of the authorities.
And – since it was a totally new concept in this Missionary School to impart lessons in Bengali and Hindi languages, new teachers were recruited.

For Bengali, my teacher was Shri Bimal Nandi – he was a freedom fighter and had worked in the team of legendary Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose. For Hindi, there were two teachers – one was Shri Singh and the other Shri Nagar. While Singh was robust, his colleague was equally lean and thin. We called them Laurel and Hardy behind their backs.
Anyway – the induction of these language teachers was a sort of mini revolution in the school because, while the dress-code for others was strictly English style with trousers, full shirt and tie (for women teachers it was gown) – in the case of these three teachers, it was totally Indian dress.

Bengali teacher would come in dhoti and punjabi and the Hindi teachers in galabandh and pajamas with jawahar coat.
Our Bengali teacher was a dear – he had very neat handwriting and would use red ink to leave his comments. One of these was – ‘fanki diley, fankay poribey.’ (Translated it meant – if you dig a grave, you will fall into it’.)(to be continued)
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School days – Mahalaya and Durga Puja shopping

Mahalaya was, and still is, a very important day in the lives of Bengalis because that was the auspicious day when Goddess Durga left her abode in the Himalayas to come down to her parental home in Bengal. She would come down with her four children Lakshmi, Saraswati, Kartik and Ganesh. Mahalaya was also the day when shopping for Durga Puja would usually begin.

The day would take-off with the all-famous Chandi Path by Birendra Krishna Bhadra transmitted over All India Radio (that was the name in the 1950s) – the transmission would start at 4am and go on for one-and-half hours. We brothers would lie curled up between the blanket s and listen to how Ma Durga, armed with weapons given by other Gods, killed the demon King Asura.
Her annual visit would last for four days and Bengalis, wherever they may be, would celebrate the occasion and enjoy to the fullest.

Well – for the Puja marketing we would usually go to Kamalalaya Stores, the famous departmental store of those days. It had separate sections for dress, utensils, bedding, suitcase, shoes, toys, books and even a mini-restaurant where we would invariably drop in to taste some new dish before proceeding to the exit to collect our purchases.
Kamalalaya Stores was an ancient edition of today’s shopping malls with practically everything under one roof. (to be continued…)
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School days – morning shows of Laurel-Hardy movies

Another activity that was kept reserved for Sundays was the special morning cinema shows in the halls – these halls in Shyambazar used to have Bengali movies in the regular 3pm, 6pm and 9pm slots as regular schedules but would have English movies on Sunday mornings.
The attractions were the Laurel and Hardy series, Abbot and Costello, Charlie Chaplin and other such comedies and one of the favorite halls was Talkie Show House.

The morning shows would usually begin from 10am or 10.30 am and, since English movies usually finished within an hour or so, we brothers under the watchful eyes of my father, would return home in time for lunch.
The dose of slapstick comedy would keep us invigorated and would be a talking point during lunch hour among my class friends.
Our visits to the main cinema halls located in the Esplanade area were restricted and I remember a few movies that were wonderful ones – ‘The Greatest show on Earth’, ‘the Ten Commandants’ and ‘20000 Leagues under the Sea’. We enjoyed the movies no end.

Then there were other movies that showed Nature in all her glory and beauty from flowers, gradually blooming in the desert, to animals roaming freely in the wild. These have today been taken over by TV channels like National Geographic. Such exposure to western cultures and the world around us went a long way in shaping my outlook on life. (to be continued …)
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School days – travel from North to South by double decker bus

We used to stay in a rented flat in Shyambazar situated in North Kolkata and the terminus of the bus No 2 was right in front of my house. The buses were all double-deckers and the route was right through the city and on to Ballygunge in South Kolkata.

The travel time was nearly an hour and the fare was an unthinkable 2-annas or 12-paise at today’s level.
North Kolkata was and still is conservative with houses that date back in time to the days of Tagore. South Kolkata, on the other hand, developed gradually much later and the people who lived there suffered from a superiority complex.
Traditionally, the North boasted of ex-Zamindars who were born with the golden spoon and the South was the haunt of the nouveau-riche. It was all evident in the dress codes of the day and the way they behaved with not just others but also among themselves. The great divide still exists!!

Anyway – on some Sundays, I would get permission from my parents to travel by the bus No 2 to Ballygunge and return – I would be accompanied by my three brothers and we would rush to the upper deck of the bus to occupy the two front seats. That way, we had a full uninterrupted view of Kolkata as the bus weaved through the streets unraveling newer sights all the time.
Being Sunday, the roads would not be crowded and the bus would have few passengers and the breathtaking views of Kolkata as it moved along Chowringhee Road with the huge expanse of green known as the Maidan on one side, the journey was always memorable.

Once the bus reached the terminus at Ballygunge, we would not get down but wait in the bus itself to begin the return journey. (to be continued…)
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School days – I become a creative writer at 14 – earn six rupees!!

I don’t know just when I got clobbered by the writing bug but it happened. In those days, the Sunday edition of The Statesman newspaper had one page devoted to children. This paper was held in high esteem by one and all and a general notion was that anyone who read this would have a better grasp over the English language than others. Our seniors, including close relatives, would exhort us to read this newspaper.
Moreover, the Sunday edition was special because it was organized by a couple of persons who went by the names of Uncle Jack and Aunty Jill.

Every week there used to be competitions of different types that allowed the children to give vent to their creativeness and, in order to encourage them to participate, there used to be nominal cash prizes as incentive. The competitions embraced all branches of art and craft like making Christmas cards by using colored thread dipped in gum and laying them out on a piece of cardboard. Or – putting a drop of ink on a piece of paper and folding it to create wonderful squiggles in ink that would hold one spellbound (the best ones used to be displayed on the board in the office of Uncle Jack located in The Statesman House, Kolkata).
And then, of course, there used to be story writing … the beginning of a sentence would be given and we would have to weave a story around that input.
Well – I loved to participate in each and every one of these competitions and, unknown to me, the writer gradually emerged. It took the form of a tiny middle piece titled ‘Mortal Combat’ in 1958 – the story was about an imaginary fight that my brothers and I had on the bed. Our weapons were pillows!!
I received a huge payment for that tiny piece – it was all of six rupees and that was the first ever payment that I received from exploiting my writing skills. (to be continued …)
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School Days – How to write a perfect essay

Thanks to the drilling of Rev Br Shannon, within a few weeks our whole class gradually learnt the art of how to pen a near-perfect essay.
His instructions were clear – devote at least the first 15 minutes to gather your thoughts and recollect any small thing that would be relevant to the essay. Then plan the different parts of essay – namely, the introduction followed by the main body and then the conclusion.

The essay could be on any subject under the Sun and you must, therefore, be prepared to pen your thoughts without any hesitation. And – believe it or not – he gave us topics like ‘Keeping house when mother is ill’ or ‘the day everything went wrong.’
He would advise us to study materials apart from the school books and suggested that we browse through the daily newspapers to keep abreast of happenings around us. To him, the best newspaper for doing that in Kolkata was The Statesman – in the 1950s.
He taught us to remember to dot the i’s and cross the t’s and would always remind us to keep at least 15 minutes in hand for revision.
He was not satisfied to just issue the directives but would go on to ensure that we got addicted to the habit – on Fridays it was Essay Time. He would write the subject on the blackboard and we had to keep our pens on the desk and wait for 15 minutes before we could begin to write. (to be continued…)
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School days – I learn the nitty-gritty of the English language

Rev Br Shannon looked hard at the boy and then opened the exercise book in which the boy had written his essay. Rev Br Shannon held up the open book for all of us to see and what we saw sent shudders down our spines – the page was riddled with red marks. Right from the top to the bottom – even the margins were not spared.
The poor boy remained standing and shivering in his pants and it was then that Rev Br Shannon opened up. He began from the first red mark and went on to explain why he had put that red mark.

The mistakes ranged from the spelling of words to syntax errors and grammatical errors. He kept on explaining and we kept gobbling up each of his words. It was a real revelation to us. None of our earlier teachers had ever taken so much time or spent so much effort to go deep into the failure of each and every student and apprise him of his shortcomings. After finishing with the critical analysis of the first student, he went on the next and the process went on for the whole day – he had analyzed all 33 essays and had given his feedback as no one had ever done.
The effect of his criticism was tremendous – all of us students vowed in our minds to ensure that he did not get a chance to put his ‘red’ trademark on our essays again. And, we did achieve that near perfection but it took us a long time. (to be continued ..)
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School days – Monday, the day of reckoning!!

When I try to go back in time to that eventful day in my life, I do not remember the details but I do remember seeing Rev Br Shannon in a new light – he was a man dedicated to his cause, namely teaching. It was a day of rude awakening for not just me but for all other 32 students of the Standard-VIII Class who would be appearing for our Senior Cambridge Exams the next year.
Tradition had it that other teachers used to occupy the chair near the blackboard and maintain a certain distance between the teacher and the taught. They probably shuddered to break the invisible barrier because they suffered from a sort of superiority complex.
But – Rev Br Shannon broke all barriers and sat on the first desk right in the center facing the class. The period was in the late 1950s and the furniture was made of wood. The

were composite ones – the front portion being the desk and the rear portion, the chair. And with Rev Br Shannon sitting on the desk, the two other students got a bit squeezed. They had to grin and bear it!
He had the bunch of 33 exercise books piled up on his right side. He picked up the first one and called out the name of the student who dutifully stood up not knowing what to expect.
Till that day, the routine had been that the teacher would distribute the books and proceed to the next lesson. But – not Rev Br Shannon, he had other ideas. He rewrote the rules and the routine. (to be continued…)
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School days – A teacher who knocked off the teeth of a student

Rev Br Shannon came to our school with a bad reputation – it seems he had thrown the duster at a boy when he was in the Darjeeling unit of our school. The wooden duster hit him on the jaw and knocked out a few teeth, hence his transfer to Kolkata. I still do not know whether it was true or not but the bad reputation he had carried with him kept us in awe because he came to our class as the Teacher.
Anyway, on the first Friday, he asked us to write an essay in class. I do not remember the name of the essay but all the 33 students in the class tried their best to create a masterpiece that would woo him over.
The school was an English medium school and that had been the medium of instruction right from our KG days – therefore, all of us took care to ensure correct spellings, grammar, syntax etcetera because none of us wanted to get our teeth knocked in by a flying duster.
Well, at the end of the scheduled two hours, he collected all the 33 exercise books and carried them with him to his room.

There seemed to be the faint hint of a grin below his serious demeanor and we realized his wry sense of humor when class reassembled on Monday morning and he entered carrying with him our 33 essay books under his arm. (to be continued…)
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School days – Wading through knee deep water in Kolkata

It was raining cats and dogs and when I arrived at the bus stop with my brothers after school in 1957 or was it 1958! The time was around 3.30pm and I found rainwater everywhere. Buses had stopped plying as had the trams. In those days, there were no mobile phones and even landline phones were few and far between. There was practically no way to let my mother know that we were stranded.
As I was debating on the next course of action, there appeared the BC boys – BC or Balachandra boys were all from the same family. They were 8 or 9 brothers and sisters and, they asked us to come along with them to their house from where we could contact my father.
Well – with no other viable alternative, we brothers fell in step and walked through knee deep water evading the swirling leaves and pieces of cloth and what not. It was a fairly exhausting journey from Bowbazar Street passing through Medical College, Calcutta University, Presidency College, Harrison Road and College Street market to the famous temple of Goddess Kali at Thanthania. That was where the BC family lived.
Their mother immediately took over charge and forced us to change out wet clothes, gave us glasses of hot milk and snacks and with new energy, my brothers and I began the remaining journey – to Shambazar. By the time we had reached the tram depot, we saw a police van approaching with my father in it – he had come to know of our absence when he came home from office and contacted the police.
The time was nearly 6.30pm and we had been in the waters for nearly three hours. (to be continued..)
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School days – A teacher who loved aero-modeling

This is the story of a class teacher who loved aero-modeling and used its charms effectively to entice his students into doing what they hated to do most, namely, studying!!
In those days (in the 1950s), my school had 5-day-week and my class teacher Rev Br Kelly wanted to take additional lessons for us on Saturdays. That was not what we, his students, wanted – so, he hit upon a novel plan. He invited to come over on a Saturdays to watch him modeling aero-planes.
Well – it was a bait that had all of us hooked and we arrived in anticipation of watching him at work creating those wonderful flying machines.
The planes were made of balsa wood and powered by a single propeller driven engine with petrol as fuel – he would whirr up the propeller and release the model and we boys would run after it as it wound its flight path in our school compound. And – after a couple of such displays he would shepherd us into the classroom for a bit of study. Needless to say, we would never miss his Saturday treats. (to be continued)
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School days - A Principal with a cane

I have lived a full life and now, as I stand on the threshold of 70, I love to go back in time and stir up memories to ensure that my faculties are in order because memories are a part of one’s existence.
When I travel down memory lane (wonder why no one calls it the memory road!!), I pause to think of what I had done right and where I had erred. Right from my toddler days, I had interacted with various people and all of them have left some sort on impression on my life. This is what usually happens to all of us and these tiny happenings shape our future.
Like the Principal of my school in Kolkata – it was St Joseph’s College, Bowbazar Street,Kolkata.
And the Principal was Rev Br P C Hart. His message to us, his students, was ‘what is worth doing is worth doing well.’And - I have followed that without any problem and have no regrets.
He used to roam down the corridors of the school and he always carried a long cane with him – but, he never used it. It was, like his long flowing white gown, an integral part of his attire. Like all other teachers of the Christian Brothers fraternity, he lived on the campus – their living quarters was on the third floor of the school. (to be continued).
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