Boarding a moving bus or alighting before bus has stopped is a crime in Nashik

I came to McKenzie Bungalow and began to commute to the Old Distillery Building in Nashik Road by bus. It was roughly 5-Km away and I had to give my attendance there and gradually get acquainted with the work till the work center in the factory was set up in Ojhar. This place was 25-Km from Nashik Road and to go to the factory there were the company buses – all blue color.
And, I got my first shock about public transport of Nashik when I boarded the bus. I was surprised to see that the bus conductor occupied a seat and the passenger had to buy his ticket immediately he got up in the bus. Standing was not allowed and if one tried to alight before the bus stopped, he would be reprimanded.
Actually, it happened to me. I am from Kolkata and boarding a moving bus or alighting while the bus was I motion came to me naturally. But, I got reprimanded by the bus conductor when I tried to do that.
Another time, I faced embarrassment when the conductor stopped the bus and told me to get down. The reason was that I had not purchased the ticket. Actually, I still held the money in my palm and was waiting for the conductor to come and get it. I was not knowing that it should be my initiative to buy the ticket.
How did he know that I had not purchased my ticket?
Well, he was verifying the number of tickets sold against the number of heads in the bus and his total was not matching. So he began to check everybody’s ticket and, when he came to me, I held out the money and he flared up. He rang the bell, stopped the bus and asked me to get down.
It was an embarrassment for me and, due to the intervention of some of my fellow travelers who realized that I was new to the place, the conductor gave me the ticket and the bus went on its way. (to be continued …)

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I go to Deolali for the first time

After landing in Nashik at around 3am, I walked down the road from the railway station with my eyes peeled for a hotel. It was the end of April and after walking some distance, I saw a two storied building with the name of a hotel. I climbed up the stairs and got a room – it was reasonably good one, at least for the night.
Next morning I walked down to the Old Distillery building – that is where HAL Nasik had its offices. It was an imposing building of the British era made of stones and resembling the interior of castles of yore – I expected a knight in shining armor to suddenly step out from behind a pillar to block my way.
I met the people of the personnel department and then the staff of the nearby medial department to clear the formalities. And then, after lunch, I was directed to my section.
It was nothing but one corner of a room where some dummy airframe structures were kept and the employees worked on them – some drilled holes, others countersunk the holes while others riveted the joints. They were all learning and, among them was their teacher. A very serious looking gentleman who had come from HAL Bangalore.
I was introduced to him and he asked me where I was staying. I told him and he directed me to another person who stayed in a nearby place called Deolali – it seems the place he stayed was rented by HAL from a shipping firm based in Mumbai. Well – he took me to his place, I saw it and loved it – the terms were super. The building was three storied and its total rent was Rs 422 which would be divided among the boarders. At that point of time there were around 24 boarders and I became the 25th.
Most of them were Malayalees and there was also a man of all seasons – he stayed in the outhouse with his family and did odd jobs for the residents.
I took a bus, returned to the hotel, paid off my dues and came back to McKenzie Bungalow in Deolali – why a three storied building was called bungalow was a mystery. (to be continued …)

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I finally join the MiG factory in HAL Nashik

The moment I set foot in Howrah station on my return to Kolkata after the interview in Nashik, I sensed something amiss. The picture on every front page of newspapers showed a West Indian batsman who was running on Red Road with his cricket bat raised in the air. It seems the previous day there was some problem in the Eden Gardens while an India West Indies test match was in progress.
In 1966, there was no cellphone and landline connections were few and far between – therefore, I did not have a chance to announce my homecoming in advance – I just had to knock on the door and say I have come.
I had very little luggage and I took a bus and while sitting in the bus, I had time to recall my interview and felt in my heart of hearts that I may not make the grade – but, I must put up a brave face in front of my parents and among my friends, especially those who were my colleagues in Moitra & Company.
I decided to keep a straight face and smile – it can be interpreted in many ways.
Anyway, within a fortnight I was a much relieved man because the offer of appointment had come by post and I now had to wait for the firm appointment letter. I was literally on cloud nine and celebrated the occasion with my friends and colleagues.
I also informed my Principal and he congratulated me.
But, the final letter was getting delayed. January came and went and February was also half way over and the final letter had still not arrived. I therefore wrote a letter to the Personnel Manager and enclosed a self-addressed and stamped envelope for a reply. I wanted to know my fate!!
Well – the reply came. It was brief and to the point. I had been selected for the next financial year and my firm appointment letter would come only after March. It actually came in the middle of April and I boarded the Howrah-Mumbai Mail via Nagpur to enter a new phase of my life. The train fare from Howrah to Nashik, a distance of nearly 1800-Km, was Rs 35 and reservation charges was just 25 paise. (to be continued …)

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My job interview over a cup of coffee

When I came for interview to Nashik in December 1966, I was offered a cup of coffee at the interview. I had been waiting since morning and, when my turn came, it was 3pm and time for tea. Among other interviewees were people who had retired from the Indian Air Force, the Indian Navy and, of course, from HAL Bangalore. Most of them were older than me and appeared to be knowing someone or the other already employed in Nasik.
I was the only odd man out.
Anyway, the board members sat on the other side of the table and, while the bearer served them tea, one of them asked me what I would like to have. I replied coffee and so it was.
Then, as I sipped the coffee, I waited for their barrage of questions and was surprised when they asked me a few questions not related to any technical subjects.
One question I remember is – ‘Mr Ghose, you are so young, how can you control a group of workers? (I was 22 years old at the time.)
I replied that I had undergone a trainee Supervisor course in HAL Kanpur and had worked also there for a year. Hence, I was confident of my ability.
What I left unsaid was that the workers in Kanpur were much more aggressive and they carried knives with them which they would take out, if annoyed.
Then another member popped the question – Mr Ghose, you have dressed as if you are going to play cricket. Do you know that you would have to dirty your hands?
I looked at him, gave him a sheepish grin and nodded. I was wearing a light colored shirt, white trousers and a black belt.
My coffee cup empty – so were theirs. I braced for more questions that would be more technical in nature. But – no. They had no questions. My interview was over.
The Chairman of the board handed me a slip of paper and smiled.
Thank you Mr Ghose – our office will contact you further. Please go to the cash department and collect your train fare on the way out.
And – that is what I did. I pocketed the money, went to the hotel, packed my suitcase and came to the railway station. The train was at 11.30pm and I had to pay a porter to push me into a compartment through the window. The train halted for only a couple of minutes and I did not have any seat booked hence, getting pushed into a compartment was the only alternative. (to be continued ... )

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I see my name in print in a Bengali magazine

My writings would be mostly carried out in the confines of my room that was actually a half-room – its height was hardly six feet and for a tall person, he would have to literally stoop. Below the room was the garage where there was the provision to park a car.
Anyway, once in my room, I would browse through the books I had and would try to imagine Hercule Poirot in the city of Kolkata or Sherlock Holmes pouring over his trophies in a flat in the posh Park Street.
I would fantasize and allow my imagination to run wild as I penned my stories – and then send them by post to the magazines. Then would begin a long wait but Bengali magazines did not have any system of either acknowledging the stories or sending across the rejection slip. If at all they accept, they would send over a copy of the magazine.
Well – I kept at it and the absence of any recognition did not put me off. In fact it made me more determined to succeed. Of course, I had to work for my salary and, one fine day, I received a letter of a different type. It was an interview letter for employment in HAL Nashik. The time was December 1966 and as I journeyed to Nashik I had butterflies in my stomach – if I did get the job, it would be a welcome change and change is what I have always wanted. It has hounded me and, at the fag end of my life, I am satisfied that I have never lost my way.
Anyway, my preparation for interview, the journey to Nashik, the actual interview and, then the shifting over to Nashik kept me busy.
And – just before I boarded the train to come to Nasik, I discovered that I had become a writer - my first Bengali short story had appeared in print. I picked up some magazines to read in the train and as I turned over to the contents page, I saw my name staring back at me.
I had succeeded in my mission of writing in Bengali – a new author named Kali Kinkar Karmakar had arrived on the scene. (to be continued …)

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Writing crime stories is fun because they have variety

It is but natural for anybody to ask why I chose to write crime stories – that too in Bengali. One reason was an old book that I had found and purchased from an old book stall in College Street – it was a copy of a thesis submitted by a high ranking police officer on crimes in Kolkata. It was full of facts and figures of crimes in Kolkata from the times of the birth of Kolkata. How that particular copy came to be among the old books on College Street is and always remain a huge mystery but I bought it.
Moreover, from my schooldays I have been brought up on stories of William (of Richmal Crompton), Five Find Outers (of Enid Blyton), the Hardy Boys (of Franklin Dixon), Billy Bunter (of Frank Richards) etcetera.
Then, in my college days, I was always an avid reader of crime story and novels. Our library in St Xavier’s College had wonderful stock of books by authors like Agatha Christie, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and Ellery Queen. And – I had got addicted to books of Earl Stanley Gardner, James Hadley Chase, Ian Fleming, Nick Cater and the likes. The paperback came cheap in the days when $1 was equal to Rs 5 only.
To add to my repertoire were English movies that had themes of crimes – it was the era of James Bond and his clones. The first James Bond movie was Dr No released in 1962.
All these inputs egged me on to put pen to paper and I began to try my hand at writing crime related stories in Bengali. In order to ensure that no one got a whiff of what I was up to, I gave myself a new name, a pseudonym. (to be continued…)

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Back in Kolkata, I turn over a new leaf

Even though I came back to Kolkata, it was not for good. Having tasted freedom and interacted with people from different parts of the country, I wanted to explore places outside Bengal. It was the time of Naxalite movement and the political scenario was changing in Bengal. I wanted to fly away.
I knew that my stay in Kolkata would be short-lived because my sights were already on Nashik – it was the place where I would get a chance to work on the aircraft as a whole and, hence, my choice.
However, till I got the job in Nashik, I would have to find some means to ensure that I did not have to beg my parents for pocket money that was necessary for a young man to maintain a decent outlook – therefore, I met my Principal at ATTI. He agreed to retain me for a princely stipend of one hundred rupees per month.
In the late 1960s, it was quite sufficient for my bus fares, occasional tea and cigarettes and, of course, movies. My friends of school and college days had scattered, as did my friends of my locality – we would meet once in a while and exchange news and views. Somehow, all of us kept getting separated and the gap kept widening.
As for me, when I was at home, I took up writing – that too in Bengali.
That must sound strange to many because I am a Bengali and my mother tongue is Bengali – but, since I had my schooling in English medium, I learnt the Bengali alphabets only when I was in Standard VIII. Hence, my knowledge of Bengali was limited to the extent of passing the exams.
But, I was determined to write in Bengali – come what may.
It was indeed a bold decision and I wanted to prove myself in my mother tongue. I kept it a closely guarded secret from my parents and also my friends and brothers. I did not want to be made a laughing stock. Therefore, as a first step, I got hold of a few Bengali magazines to understand what topics sell and I found that it was crime – a subject after my heart. (to be continued …)

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Wanting a change, I decide to leave Kanpur

I has joined AMD Kanpur as a trainee Supervisor – it was a one-year training after which I did another one year service by which time I lost interest in the work. It was a routine monotonous work and there was practically no scope of innovation. In fact, it was boring stuff.
It was at that time that a deal was signed between India and Russia to undertake manufacture of MiG-21 fighter aircrafts. The time was just after the Chinese aggression and India wanted to arm itself with sophisticated fighter aircrafts.
I wanted a transfer to this newly formed setup but my application was turned down by my boss. He was an officer of the IAF and we had an exchange of hot words. I was young, my blood was hot and, in my opinion, it was the only decision at the time. The result was that I came out of his office and penned my resignation.
Of course, I was not the only one to resign because a couple of others who had joined the training course also opted out – the initial charm had worn off.
Anyway, my course mates arranged a farewell party for me and, I returned back to Kolkata with my eyes set on joining the MiG complex.
I had sent a letter to my father after submitting my resignation and he did not say no, neither did he approve. To him, it was my personal decision and he did not want to influence my decisions – I had to live my life and, in case I made any mistake, I would have to suffer.
Anyway – I could not sit at home and twiddle my thumbs till I got a job in the MiG complex. Therefore, I went to ATTI and requested the Principal to accommodate me till such time my dream was fulfilled. He had a soft corner for me because of my involvement on bringing out souvenirs when I was a student there.
And so, I joined there as a Trainee Instructor – I taught the students different subjects and kept waiting for the opportunity to move out. The MiG complex had three units – one in Nashik to manufacture the complete aircraft, another unit in Hyderabad to manufacture and supply the electronic equipment to Nashik and a third one at Koraput to manufacture and supply the engine.
My target was Nashik. (to be continued …)

Pollution of the River Ganges in Kanpur

River Ganges is a holy river that originates in the Himalayas and flows through several states before finally meeting the Bay of Bengal. The water of this holy river is required in practically all religious ceremonies and every family stores and preserves some of this water in their house. This is especially true for those who live away from the river.
This mighty river flows through the city of Kanpur and, one day, I wanted to go and sit on the banks of the River Ganges – it was during my stay in J K colony and, after reaching the place, I was shocked to see the nature and extent of pollution.
Kanpur is famous for its leather tanneries and, automatically, footwear made in Kanpur come dirt cheap. But, this is not about footwear – it is about pollution of the Ganges. Believe it or not, the wastes from the leather processing plants flowed directly into the waters in trickles from different directions. The stench was unbearable and the condition of the water near the banks looked anything but holy.
That was the situation in the 1960s and, in spite of Ganga Action Plans of the government, not much progress has been made. Of course, funds had been earmarked but, true to Indian tradition, the money must have been spent on activities that did not help the cause.
In spite of past failures, the newly elected government of Narendra Modi has now assigned a full time Minister to look after cleaning of the Ganga. There are plans to not just clan the waters of unwanted foreign materials but also to dredge it and convert the river into a regular waterway between the cities on its banks.
It would be a pleasant sight to see launches and motor boats plying on the Ganga. Once that finally happens, it would be a boon to the Nation. (to be continued …)

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Kanpur and its freezing cold winters and scorching hot summers

Life in Kanpur was a sort of revelation for me in many ways. One thing was mobility which was ensured by two wheelers – in the 1960s, two wheelers meant bicycles because motorized two wheelers were the privilege of a select few. One of them was a friend of mine who had received in his dowry. He hailed from Bihar and early marriage in that part of the country was quite common.
Another of my friends bought an old Harley Davidson at an auction and would spend hours repairing it to make it roadworthy. He actually did make it serviceable and would ride it to the factory.
Anyway, Kanpur is well known for its extremes of weather because in winter, the temperature drops to near freezing point while in summer, it would become unbearably hot.
Summer meant air coolers to keep the rooms cool, and, everyone tried to complete all outdoor activities either early in the mornings of in the evenings. If they had to go out during the day, they would have to take precautions – there would be special green mango sherbets available on the roadside shops or lassis. If nothing else, there would be fresh lime sherbets to provide temporary relief from the summer heat.
Then there would be the sudden andhi or dust storms.
I had stayed for a few months in the quarters of J K Colony in Chakeri and saw that during summer, people slept in the open, under the sky. As evening fell, they would bring out their cots (better known as charpois), keep the portable lamp nearby and also an earthen pot of water. Then the radio would be tuned to Vividh Bharti and the families would have their dinner as they listened to the filmi songs. Dinner over, they would retire beneath the mosquito nets.
This schedule was followed by young and old alike – yes, even the newlyweds!!
In winter, the situation changed completely. It was all indoors with the heaters on – those who did not have room heaters would go in for ovens. And – to keep out the cold, the quilts and blankets would come out along with the pullovers, mufflers, monkey caps, gloves – yes, woolen gloves was necessary to ensure that the fingers did not freeze while cycling. (to be continued …)

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Schedule completion party in AMD Kanpur

As I have mentioned earlier, I was employed in AMD Kanpur during 1963 to 1965 and was engaged in manufacturing the HS 748 transport aircraft. The work force consisted of people from the Indian Air Force plus some civilians like me and all of us were assisted by specialists from the Hawker Siddley Company of Britain. It was a totally new type of work for all of us and construction of the aircraft was a long exercise.
The complete work was confined to four hangars of the Air Force Base namely Hangar numbers 1, 4, 7 and 10. The assembly of fuselage was in one of these hangars and, the first fuselage was completed after nearly one year. Immediately, as per the IAF tradition, a picnic was arranged to celebrate the occasion.
Any picnic in the IAF meant drinks and this was no exception – and the venue was a park on the outskirts of Kanpur known as Allen Forest. Cooking was no problem because the cooks were requisitioned from the canteen. And, for drinks, the responsibility was given to a teetotaler – he happened be a Bengali.
As to transportation, a Queen Mary was requisitioned – it was a huge trolley on wheels and was known as the work horse of the IAF. The complete group of airmen and civilians boarded the Queen Mary and went to the venue. On the outward journey they were sober, on the return journey, some of them were dead drunk. In fact, they had to be located from different corners of the Allen Forest – they were found sprawling in the grass, too drunk to move. (to be continued ..)

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Train travel to and from Kanpur to Kolkata

When I remember the good old days I spent in Kanpur, I recall the adventures that accompanied the process of securing confirmed reservation in the trains. There were two trains that I loved for my journeys to Kolkata. First was the Delhi-Kalka mail and next preference was the Toofan Express.
The first one, as its name implied, originated in Kalka and proceeded via Delhi to Kolkata. This was my first choice because of its timing – it left Kanpur at around 4pm and reached Howrah Station at 8 am next morning.
And – I traveled in this train several times by just boarding it with a ticket. This train had a Dining Car and it was not just calm and comfortable but a heaven for me - I did not need reservations because when I boarded the Dining Car, it would be time for evening tea. I would order tea and sandwiches and the waiters would gladly oblige.
Later, after a couple of hours, it would be time for dinner and the waiters would wait expectantly for my order. I would delay giving the order to the maximum extent possible and then, after dinner, I would request the manager to allow me to remain in the Dining Car till morning. He would oblige in exchange of a tenner and, next morning I would have my breakfast and get down at Howrah Station.
Believe it or not, I journeyed in this way a number of times but, returning back to Kanpur from Kolkata used to be another kettle of fish. I had to get confirmed reservations and, hence, had to go to the railway booking office and stand in queue early in the morning. In those days, reservations would be given 10 days before journey and the counters opened at 8am – therefore, unless I was in queue by 6am, I would not have a chance.
Even in those days, touts flourished and they used to block reservations of important trains to sell them off at a premium. (to be continued…)

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Entertainment in Kanpur meant Hindi movies

My stay in Kanpur was for two years and, in that period, I became a fan of Hindi movies. The period was late 1960 and it was and still is the golden era of Hindi movies – most of them were in black and white but the storylines were gripping as were the songs and music.
For movies the first choice was Majum cinema nearby in the Air Force campus and when movies like Sharabi or Teen Deviya of Dev Anand was advertised or Mujhe Jeene Do of Sunil Dutt and Waheeda Rehman it was difficult to get tickets. Then there were other equally famous hits like Bhoot Bangla of Mehmood.
Of course, Hindi movies in color of the period were equally fantastic – especially those starring the inimitable Shammi Kapoor – some of his movies of the 1964 were super hits like Kashmir ki kali, and Rajkumar while his elder brother Raj Kapoor gave us his Sangam.
Some movies dealt with mystery like Who Kaun Thi and Kohraa alongside Dilip Kumar’s Leader and Asha Parekh’s Ziddi. In those days, the radio was the only entertainment available in the houses and people kept waiting for Wednesday evenings when Radio Ceylon would transmit its weekly Binaca geetmala. Its sponsor was Binaca toothpaste. It was a one-hour program and Amin Sayani was the Radio Jockey. His beautiful voice would make the accompanying songs still more appealing. And – on the last Wednesday of the year, he would present the top songs of that year. His audience would be kept on tenterhooks to know which songs would reach the top of the charts. (to be continued … )

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I gamble away my month’s earnings before Diwali

It happened in Kanpur where, one night, I gambled away my full salary – I was gradually maturing and, for anyone who starts to live a life away from the comforts and bindings of home, he is bound to encounter innumerable pitfalls. I was no exception.
It was the period of life when one wants to gain experience – good and bad. It was the time when one is keen to add to his knowledge bank and learn the ways of life. At heart I was a writer and wanted to keep adding tidbits of information to my bank that would be useful to me later in my journey through life.
And – one of my gains was teen-patti – a game of cards where one’s luck depended on the fall of cards. Just three cards could make or break a man. If he held three Aces, he could buy out any one and, that is what every player at the table dreamt of.
It was not that I was new to cards. I used to play games like Patience on my one, or rummy or ‘29’ with my friends. They helped to pass time and games like ‘29’ used to be a rage in picnics or while spending the night at the railway station with friends as we waited for the counters to open in the morning - for bagging the reservations.
But – some of my friends would sit at night playing the teen-patti for stakes – it was clear-cut case of gambling and, at times, the game would go on till early morning. They would sit after dinner and would have bottles of XX Rum for company.
I normally maintained a distance from this bunch but, curiosity is what egged me on. I wanted to learn the game and sat with the gang. I learnt that irrespective of the cards you hold, you must always present a wooden face – no one should be able to guess the cards you hold. And – of course, play blind at times. This means do not look at your cards – leave it to Lady Luck.
Well – after watching them for some days and understanding the game, I decided to take the plunge. My friends were delighted to welcome a novice and it was good going – some days I would win, some days lose. The amounts were never more – the stakes were all in terms of paise!!
However, one day I became greedy and paid the price. It was just before Diwali – I had planned to go home and, it was after payday. I had the month’s salary in my pocket and held a set of three cards in my hand that, in my opinion, could fetch me the Moon.
Well – it did not and I gambled away my salary. I had to borrow from my roommate to make the trip to Kolkata. And – took a vow never to again ay teen-patti. I have maintained it till date – but, the game has peeped into my stories. (to be continued .. )

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I locate two outlets for Tambula in Kolkata

When I returned back to Kolkata after my brief stint in Kanpur, I came to know of two outlets where Tambula was played regularly – one of these was the Airport Club. Needless to say that in Kanpur, I had got hooked to the game and won twice – first time it was Rs 120, the second tune it was Rs 70.
Hence, it was but natural that once in Kolkata, I look around to see if I could continue to enjoy the game where possibilities of laying my hands on some money was always there – provided Lady Luck was on my side.
One of the outlets was the Airport Club.
Here it used to be an evening game held once a week and most of the patrons were employees of the airport or of airlines. Some of them joined at the end of their working hours, while many others came from different parts of the city to enjoy a few hours of playing the game. Women also came and they brought with them snacks that they shared with others.
Apart from the regular prize monies for part games and the full house based on cash collections before every game, there used to be gifts which were an added attraction.
I played in this venue for some months and then discovered a second outlet – it was the Fairweather Club in Kidderpore dock area. The game at this venue began at 10am and went in till evening. But, no one objected if anyone left early. There were no bindings but the attraction here was the easy availability of drinks – because, it was a sailor’s den. Anyway – I somehow did not like this second option and, as long as I stayed in Kolkata, I would patronize the Airport Club. (to be continued ..)

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I learn to play Tambula and win Rs 120 for a full house

In the late 60s, the only entertainment available was the cinema and, it was the said to be the golden era of Indian movies – even though majority of the movies was in black and white, each of them had a wonderful storyline and a variety of music with hummable tunes and lyrics.
Well – in the Kanpur Air force base at Chakeri, there was a cinema hall named Majum where a different type of entertainment was available on Sunday mornings. It was a game of random numbers and it would start at 9am sharp and, if it was Sunday, then all the bicycles would make a beeline for Majum to play Tambula (or Housie).
I had accompanied my friends to Majum on one Sunday and sat watching them as they purchased the tickets – each ticket had 15 numbers scattered at random. The numbers ranged between 1 and 90 and, all one had to do was to scratch out the number immediately it was announced on the stage by the Master of Ceremonies.
Once the sale of tickets was closed, the total amount collected for the particular game would be announced along with the amount on money earmarked for each game. The cost of tickets use to be 10paise (in the 1960s) and the prize amounts for the part games would be around Rs 20 while for the full house, it could go up to Rs 120.
There were several part games like jaldi five (strike out any five numbers), any line (strike out all five numbers in any line) etcetera and the prize amounts were not much. However, for the full house, one had to strike out all 15 numbers of the ticket – and, shout ‘House’ immediately he scratched out the last number. He had to be alert because if he missed out – it was just bad luck. No appeal was entertained.
I accompanied my friends for a couple of Sundays to get the hang of it and then took the plunge – I also bought a ticket and waited for the numbers with my pencil poised. It was exciting as I scratched out the numbers one by one. The part games were finished and it was time for the full house. I could not hold back my excitement because I had only one number left to scratch. It was the number 10 – and I was waiting with bated breath to hear ‘Downing Street shining 10’.
And – the moment I heard ‘Downing…’ I yelled ‘House’.
One of the volunteers rushed towards me, took my ticket, read out the numbers on it and confirmed that I had won – it was a princely sum of Rs 120. (to be continued…)

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I learn cycling and travel to Kanpur City

#cycling #trams #rickshaw #GTRoad Yes, it is a fact that I learned cycling in Kanpur. Having been brought up in a city like Kolkata, I had never felt the need to use the bicycle. Kolkata is a city where in the 1960s, there was an abundance of buses and trams.
The buses were all of the Calcutta State Transport Corporation (CSTC) and the trams were of the Calcutta Tramways Corporation (CTC). Private buses used to ply on a few routes outside the city limits and auto rickshaws had not appeared on the scene.
Of course, other means of transport were there like the taxi cabs and the hand pulled rickshaws – the former was preferred by people who had money and, also, for family outings to the cinema. As to the hand pulled rickshaws – that became important during the rainy season when water logging of streets created problems for buses or trams to move. Anyway, in the bargain, I never got a chance to learn cycling and, once in Kanpur, I realized that I must overcome the obstacle. For the first few days, my friends took me along but, that could not go on forever. Therefore, I hired a bicycle and, in the evenings, my friends would help me learn the intricacies of riding the contraption. In order to gain confidence, they would give me protection when on the main road – one of them would be on my right, another on my left.
Then came the day when I discovered myself in a major dilemma and was forced to take the plunge to prove that I had arrived.
It was a Saturday and four of my friends and I left to see a movie in the city. We had to take the GT Road and, it always had plenty of traffic. As usual, I had my friends around me and, when we reached a crossing I stopped because of the lights. But, when the lights turned green, I found that I was all alone – my friends had gone ahead.
I did not know the way to the cinema hall so I just got down from the bicycle, pushed it to the edge of the footpath and tried to peer into the darkness to locate my friends. And – my joy knew no bounds when I saw them some distance away – watching me and enjoying my discomfort.
They had intentionally left me stranded – just to see how I handled myself in a crisis and, also, to boost my confidence. (to be continued)

Another interesting blog - Violence and atrocities
Another interesting blog - Citizen Journalist

I get selected in AMD, Kanpur and step into a new life

The Aircraft Manufacturing Depot (AMD) was the dream project of Air Vice Marshal Harjinder Singh. The facility was located in the premises of the IAF base at Chakeri in a total of four hangars in which manufacturing of the Avro-748 transport aircraft had been undertaken. The aircraft was being built with expertise of Hawker Siddley Company of Britain and was the Indian version of the HS-748.
And – the area was popularly known as Harjindernagar.
AMD was under the administration of the Indian Air Force and most of the staff were in uniform. After the written test I along with other candidates had to wait for the results to be declared because those who cleared the written test would have to appear for the viva-voce.
The candidates had come from different corners of the country and when a Flight Sergeant came out with the results, there was suspense. He asked us to stand in queue and began to read out the names one by one – and, I was one of the successful candidates.
I had cleared the first hurdle and, then, came the viva voce – that too went off smoothly. The last step was the medical checkup and, fortunately, a Bengali MWO (Master Warrant Officer) ensured that the last step also ended in my favor. After selection, I had to find a place to stay and, here, I was lucky to meet a couple of acquaintances from ATTI who had got employment in AMD. They stayed in a rented house in Lalbangla and I joined up with them.
My father was happy and returned to Kolkata by the Toofan Express because one full bogie used to be attached to the main train from Kanpur and it was possible to board it without reservation of seat or berth. (to be continued …)

Another interesting blog - Violence and atrocities
Another interesting blog - Citizen Journalist