The teacher who taught me Bengali

Here is the twenty first unforgettable character in my life …

This pertains to my schooldays in the period of the late 1950s – 1958 to 1959 to be more precise. I studied in a school run by the Christian Brothers. While most of the teachers were of the Christian Brothers fraternity in their long white uniforms running up to their feet, there were a few exceptions. There was a portly German lady who taught us music, there was another who was in-charge of games and PT, there were the office staff and then there was the induction of three gentlemen in the form of teachers of Bengali and Hindi.
The beauty was that the two Hindi teachers came to school dressed in sherwani and dhoti while the Bengali teacher came in kurta (punjabi) and dhoti unlike other teachers who dressed in European clothes.

The Bengali syllabus had started when we were in the last stages of school – we had the option of selecting either the lower or the higher levels. Attempting the higher level straightway was problematic and risky because we did not know even the basics. So, the Bengalis in the class opted for the easier lower level.
However, our teacher had other ideas. He had seen Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose first hand having been a part of his Indian National Army; hence he convinced us that being Bengalis, we should be loyal and patriotic enough to learn our mother tongue. Our parents were aghast – if, by chance we did not secure pass marks, it would ruin our future. The teacher convinced them as well. And – thus it came to pass that we toiled with him and within a short span of time our confidence grew – we were able to take dictation, compose complex sentences, write letters etcetera in Bengali to his satisfaction. One fine day, he invited us to his house. It was a single room affair behind Science College – he was a bachelor, cooked his own meals and loved to talk about his experiences with Netaji.
Needless to say that all of us Bengalis cleared the exams successfully – there were five or six of us in the class. Once out of school, I maintained contact with my teacher for some time but then, as normally happens, we lost touch. The best part is that, when I went to college, I decided to prove to myself that I could write in Bengali as well as others. And – my first Bengali story, a crime story, was published in 1967. Many others followed and I became a regular contributor to a number of magazines.


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

East Coast Railway to run 186 special trains during Rath Yatra

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My friends who used to sell saris


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900 migrants rescued off the coast of Libya by coast guards

Death toll in the London Tower fire rises to 30, could go up to 100

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He taught me to ride a scooter

Here is the twentieth unforgettable character in my life …

He and I lost our fathers at about the same time. It was a great loss to both of us and, somehow, that sad incident brought us together. It was in his house that I learnt the game of auction bridge – his brother-in-law initiated us into the game. We would spend the evenings learning the tricks of dropping the queen or of squeezing the opponent while our better halves shared the results of experimentations in the kitchen. It was, therefore, natural that on the occasion of next Mahalaya, my friend and I decided to do tarpan (remembering our ancestors) on the banks of the Godavari together.

We went on his scooter immediately after the end of the early morning radio program because we had to be back to attend our duties. I had never driven a scooter before and, on the way back, I expressed a desire to learn it since I wanted to own a two wheeler. He agreed and the following Sunday, he taught me the basics – how to kick start the engine, how to use the clutch-gear combination, how to accelerate, how to brake.
It so happened that he suddenly got a chance to shift jobs. He had always longed for a job in Kolkata because he had two daughters and wanted to bring them up in traditional Bengali style. He was in two minds while his wife was determined not to let the opportunity slip away. I sided with his wife because I knew that in his heart of hearts, he also wanted to go there. One fine day, we bid him adieu.
He settled in his new environment, got his daughters admitted to prestigious schools and later to reputable colleges. He even constructed his house and found the work suitable to his style and temperament. He got promotions regularly and, when I went to Kolkata, I visited him. He was happy. It was fate that snatched away his elder daughter. She was knocked down by a bus as she was crossing the road with her college friends.
My friend did not allow the incident to pull him down. It is not easy to come to terms with the loss of a grown up daughter. He overcame the loss, superannuated and has taken up consultancy work that keeps him busy. His younger daughter is married and my friend and his wife have started a new life. Whenever we go to Kolkata, we visit him and talk about the good old days. His wife is a great cook and loves to dish out delicious preparations.


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

East Coast Railway to run 186 special trains during Rath Yatra

Tax on the 326-year-old Jagannathpur Mela waived

Pollution in Subarnarekha river a matter of concern


He loved model planes and aero modeling

He practices homeopathy with a smile

My friends who used to sell saris


The Big Sick is Anupam Kher’s 500th film

Suicide Squad 2 - the sequel - to start shooting in 2018

Shooting started in Paris for Tom Cruise starrer 'Mission Impossible 6'


900 migrants rescued off the coast of Libya by coast guards

Death toll in the London Tower fire rises to 30, could go up to 100

ISIS carries out its first attack on Iran - at least 12 dead

He was one of the wittiest persons I have ever met

Here is the nineteenth unforgettable character in my life …

He was extremely careful of how he spent each paisa because, to him, each paisa saved added to your confidence to tackle the world. Before shifting over to the township, he stayed in rented accommodation outside. When he received the allotment of the quarter, he transferred his belongings by using the shift buses – one evening he brought the two plastic chairs, next day, the mattresses, followed by the bedroll, suitcases of clothes and on the last day, the steel cot.
It was a long drawn out process spread over the whole week but he completed the exercise without spending any money on transportation charges.

At that time he was newly married – subsequently, his parents came over to stay with him because he was their only son. He, in turn fathered two sons. He had the gift of the gab, wit came to him spontaneously and he had a wonderful bank of knowledge pertaining to Hindu customs, Gods and Goddesses. He was the heart of any party because he could make people break into peals of laughter by his play upon words. In addition, being a Brahmin, he was an indispensable part of all Bengali religious rituals and enjoyed the attention. The family was an exceptional one.
I remember an occasion when he borrowed Rs 20 from me in the hospital. Both of us had retired and would go to the hospital for our monthly medical checkup and medicines. That month he was in need of the money because the girl at the medicine billing counter did not have the necessary change. So, my friend borrowed the money from me to pay her and when we met next month, the first thing he did was to return the money to me.
Both his sons were good students and, in due course, completed their Engineering degrees. He married off his elder son who was employed in Mumbai – therefore, the son and daughter-in-law shifted over to Mumbai. Every alternate weekend he would come over to visit his parents. However, one Friday he did not turn up. He had met with a fatal accident on the railway tracks on his way home.
The younger son specialized in Metallurgy, got married and is now settled in Hyderabad. But, my friend lost his life to a cardiac arrest. He used to be the life of any gathering and we miss his company and his ability to crack jokes at the drop of a hat. It is a gift that very few people have.


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

East Coast Railway to run 186 special trains during Rath Yatra

Tax on the 326-year-old Jagannathpur Mela waived

Pollution in Subarnarekha river a matter of concern


He loved model planes and aero modeling

He practices homeopathy with a smile

My friends who used to sell saris


The Big Sick is Anupam Kher’s 500th film

Suicide Squad 2 - the sequel - to start shooting in 2018

Shooting started in Paris for Tom Cruise starrer 'Mission Impossible 6'


900 migrants rescued off the coast of Libya by coast guards

Death toll in the London Tower fire rises to 30, could go up to 100

ISIS carries out its first attack on Iran - at least 12 dead

‘Blasting News’ – where freelancers are welcome

Those who are freelance journalists will love Blasting News because it accepts freelancers. I came to know about it through a friend of mine and have been associated with it for several months. The experience has been beautiful. They offer a wide range of categories from politics to world affairs, entertainment, sports, food, technology and lifestyle. Only condition is that the story should be current and relevant to the United States.

They are strict about plagiarism and have an inbuilt system to scan the report before acceptance. Once the system accepts it, the story goes to the editorial team who scrutinizes it for grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, accuracy of information etcetera before publishing it – and the acceptance or otherwise is sent by mail immediately.
If the story is interesting, it is selected for the homepage and I have been lucky enough to get several of my stories on the homepage.
Yes – there is a minimum word limit and a unique format for submitting the story. There is a photo gallery which throws up images pertaining to the story for inclusion in the story and one can add images from one’s own sources also. As to payments, it is regular and once the story is accepted, payment is assured. Obviously, Blasting News is a blessing for freelancers.


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

East Coast Railway to run 186 special trains during Rath Yatra

Tax on the 326-year-old Jagannathpur Mela waived

Pollution in Subarnarekha river a matter of concern


He loved model planes and aero modeling

He practices homeopathy with a smile

My friends who used to sell saris


The Big Sick is Anupam Kher’s 500th film

Suicide Squad 2 - the sequel - to start shooting in 2018

Shooting started in Paris for Tom Cruise starrer 'Mission Impossible 6'


900 migrants rescued off the coast of Libya by coast guards

Death toll in the London Tower fire rises to 30, could go up to 100

ISIS carries out its first attack on Iran - at least 12 dead

She sang Rabindrasangeet and organized dance recitals

Here is the eighteenth unforgettable character in my life …

She is a lady who has lived life the hard way. It could have been very much better but things did not work out as she would have liked. She was certainly not at fault but when the dice is stacked against you, you have to accept the consequences.
When I first met her, she and her husband used to organize majority of cultural programs in our township. Some of these were under the banner of the Bengalis, others under the banners of Officers Club or other such agencies. She was like an elder sister and was the ‘didi’ of all Bengali women. A great singer, she had the aptitude of training others to sing like her. Practically no cultural program was complete without her direct involvement. Her husband did the coordinating work and she concentrated on the actual rehearsals – the duo was always in demand and in the limelight.

However, suddenly, her husband fell sick. It was a peculiar skin disease and could not be controlled by any type of medication. There used to be blisters on the exposed portions of the body. The Doctors diagnosed it as an allergy. The illness had disastrous results because he gradually became an invalid and would struggle to walk down to the office. He opted for voluntary retirement and shifted to a rented a flat in the neighborhood. Most of his savings had gone towards his own treatment. Hence, he was in financial difficulties. Ultimately, he passed away and his wife moved over to Bangalore to be with her son and daughter-in-law.
The son had completed his Degree in Engineering and got a job in Bangalore where he met a local girl and married her. But, the mother who spent most of her life making others happy now finds herself at the end of a dark tunnel with only memories for company.


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

East Coast Railway to run 186 special trains during Rath Yatra

Tax on the 326-year-old Jagannathpur Mela waived

Pollution in Subarnarekha river a matter of concern


He loved model planes and aero modeling

He practices homeopathy with a smile

My friends who used to sell saris


The Big Sick is Anupam Kher’s 500th film

Suicide Squad 2 - the sequel - to start shooting in 2018

Shooting started in Paris for Tom Cruise starrer 'Mission Impossible 6'


900 migrants rescued off the coast of Libya by coast guards

Death toll in the London Tower fire rises to 30, could go up to 100

ISIS carries out its first attack on Iran - at least 12 dead

He was a doctor who could remain afloat in the swimming pool

Here is the seventeenth unforgettable character in my life …

Doctors are supposed to practice what they preach and should lead by example. In those days the ill effects of smoking was not highlighted to the extent that it is done today. There were no bans and tobacco companies used to be the greatest advertisers and sponsors of major events with catch lines like ‘made for each other’, ‘good to the last puff’, and ‘live life king-size’. There was not so much restriction on smoking and this Doctor used to be a chain smoker. Even while he was on duty in the in-door ward of the hospital, he was never without his cigarette.

I have seen him in the swimming pool – he had the ability to remain afloat for a long time. This was an achievement because he had a bulky body. He was a specialist on heart diseases and, when I asked him about this smoking habit of his, he replied that he did what he thought best and there was no need to imitate him. Then he added with a smile – I can remain afloat for two hours. Can you do that?
The Doctor’s wife was a teacher in the school and they did not have any children. Therefore, they decided to go in for adoption. They adopted a sweet little girl and, no outsider ever knew that the kid was not theirs.
The Doctor’s father was an avid writer of letters. Every morning, he would walk down to the post office with an umbrella for company – a distance of around two kilometers up and another two kilometers down. He would usually be the first person at the counter of the post office which would open at 9am. He would drop the letters he had written the previous night into the letter box and purchase envelopes and stamps for continuing the letter writing the next day. He spoke little and kept to himself.
This Doctor friend was suddenly transferred to another unit of our organization. That disturbed his regular routine and affected not just him but other members of his family as well. Still, the transfer had to be accepted so off he went – into a sort of exile. His family followed him after a lapse of time. But, it was not easy for him to reconcile to the change. He suffered a stroke and passed away.


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

East Coast Railway to run 186 special trains during Rath Yatra

Tax on the 326-year-old Jagannathpur Mela waived

Pollution in Subarnarekha river a matter of concern


He loved model planes and aero modeling

He practices homeopathy with a smile

My friends who used to sell saris


The Big Sick is Anupam Kher’s 500th film

Suicide Squad 2 - the sequel - to start shooting in 2018

Shooting started in Paris for Tom Cruise starrer 'Mission Impossible 6'


900 migrants rescued off the coast of Libya by coast guards

Death toll in the London Tower fire rises to 30, could go up to 100

ISIS carries out its first attack on Iran - at least 12 dead

My good old grocer still waits

Here is the sixteenth unforgettable character in my life …

He used to be my local grocer and a very special one. When our township was set up way back in the seventies, the number of shops was extremely limited. Permission to set up shops was issued to only those who had considerable influence. This gentleman was one of the lucky ones. As is the usual practice in these situations, the person who sets up shop must have enough financial strength to extend credit facilities to the residents – he had that. That was why people flocked to his shop. They maintained ‘books’ in which the balance would be struck – and payments made in installments that suited the customer. My good friend, the shopkeeper, would provide add-ons to ensure that no one left his net – these included incentives like home delivery, accepting orders over the phone etcetera.

His shop would always be crowded and since he enjoyed monopoly for several years, he still survives. He does not stock a huge variety of items that he used to do earlier because competitors have entered the scene but the advantage is not lost. He was well known for quality goods, he has maintained that. The oldest member of his family is no more, those of the next age group are too old to move around freely, his son is a Chartered Accountant and has a life of his own.
Therefore, it would not be long when he would decide that he also is losing steam. Till that happens, I hope to continue to meet him at least once a month – whenever I go to the township to withdraw money from my bank or to post office to send my medical bill to Bangalore by Speedpost for reimbursement.
Till recently, I used to buy selected range of groceries from his shop. No, I do not have any credit system with him; rather, we have a relationship that goes beyond that of a customer and a grocer. He stills opens his shop as a matter of routine and knows that in the age of shopping malls and credit cards, his concept of doing business has ceased to exist.


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

East Coast Railway to run 186 special trains during Rath Yatra

Tax on the 326-year-old Jagannathpur Mela waived

Pollution in Subarnarekha river a matter of concern


He loved model planes and aero modeling

He practices homeopathy with a smile

My friends who used to sell saris


The Big Sick is Anupam Kher’s 500th film

Suicide Squad 2 - the sequel - to start shooting in 2018

Shooting started in Paris for Tom Cruise starrer 'Mission Impossible 6'


900 migrants rescued off the coast of Libya by coast guards

Death toll in the London Tower fire rises to 30, could go up to 100

ISIS carries out its first attack on Iran - at least 12 dead

He loved model planes and aero modeling

Here is the fifteenth unforgettable character in my life …

The young man was an Engineer, his hobby was aero-modeling which got him a huge fan following. He was also a Management Trainee and took the initiative to organize cultural programs of the Officers club. But, behind his outward appearances, there lurked a hesitant attitude. He was one of the privileged classes and, in the seventies there were a limited number of such individuals - unlike today when one takes pride in announcing that he belongs to so-and-so-community; he was uncomfortable in any group. He always felt that since he was a branded person; everyone was passing unkind remarks behind his back. He suffered from a complex of sorts.

His hobby was flying remote controlled aircraft models on Sunday mornings in the Stadium complex. This made him a darling of young girls – they would keep him company and watch wonder eyed as he readied the model, placed it on the ground and withdraw to a distance with his control box. Once the model got airborne, he would use the hand held controls to perform wonderful aerobatics. It was thus that he got involved with a school girl.
When the girl’s brothers learnt of this (they were three toughies!), they seized the opportunity to force the boy into marriage. They knew that he had a bright future in the organization and the brothers loved the catch for their sister. But, the young man found the going tough.
He longed for an escape route. He took a transfer to another unit to be away from the circle of known persons. Once there, he cut off all past links and built up new ones. The last I heard of him, he had settled down in Australia. He must have found the Australian society down South more accommodative than the Indian one.


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

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He practices homeopathy with a smile

Here is the fourteenth unforgettable character in my life …

Homeopathy is considered to be the ultimate option of the poor – this is the generally accepted belief. This branch of medicine is usually practiced by retired persons (to keep themselves engaged in useful activity), by some after duty hours (to augment their incomes) or by those who want an occupation to keep themselves busy because they have no other worries.
I know of a young man who has taken up this profession seriously and his practice flourishes - his earnings would put that of more quailed and experienced Doctors to shame. His patients are not just the locals but they come from all corners of the country and even abroad and he takes pride in having cured persons with critical and chronic diseases. Consequently, once the patient gets cured, they return with gifts and cash.

It all started when his marks in the HS examinations were not up to expectations. While others of his class opted for various important branches like medicine and engineering (computers was still not as popular as it is today), this young man was at sea. There were very few takers for other disciplines because Commerce was the last hope of those unsuccessful in the major branches and the Arts faculty attracted only a minuscule percentage, especially those who did not want to have anything to do with mathematics.
His parents were religiously minded persons, they performed the community Durga Pujas and their quarter was chock full of innumerable ingredients that are necessary for various rituals. These added to the choking surroundings but they were never bothered. They were contented with their lives. Therefore, when their son was at a loss as to his future, the father packed him off to Kolkata where he joined a college of Homeopathy.
At the end of the three year stint, he returned and began in a humble way in his father’s flat. Within a short span of time, he purchased the adjacent flat and then two more on the ground floor. At present, he has shifted to his own palatial bungalow – he moves around in air conditioned comfort and the guard at his gate does not allow unwanted loiterers around. Unbelievable but true! Homeopathy, for him, was not a bad option after all.
I met him last time at one of the Durga puja pandals and he was all smiles, as usual.



Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

New outlets for fresh fish from Chilika

The Great Indian Bustard makes a comeback

Trekking options open up in Uttarakhand


Another boss who understood my feelings

My boss rode a scooter and wore a wig

The man who loved his work


Airstrikes kill at least 27 ISIS militants in Iraq

US police arrest serial killer of Phoenix who had killed at least nine people

Gunmen disguised as doctors shoot dead 38 persons in a Kabul hospital


Sequel of ABBA's hit musical Mamma Mia on the cards

Hackers demand ransom for Disney’s latest Pirates film

'Wonder Woman' with Gal Gadot arriving in India in June

My friends who used to sell saris

Here is the thirteenth unforgettable character in my life …

We stayed in the company quarters and, as is normal with colony life, he wanted to do some work in his off time to keep himself busy, and simultaneously augment his monthly income for his daily additional pack of cigarettes. He convinced one of his close buddies and, together, they embarked on a novel idea of selling saris. Since there were practically no overheads, they could sell these at cheaper rates and there was always a queue of customers in his quarter.
When he was on duty, his wife managed the show. They used to get their stocks on a monthly basis from neighboring Surat – one of them would go there on alternate weekends to replenish the stocks and bring in the latest designs.

Time does not wait for anyone. After some time, the business reached saturation point – also, their children grew up.
One’s son went into medicine and became a Doctor; the other’s son became an Engineer and moved over to the Gulf. They built their houses on adjacent plots of land which they had purchased when their business was on the up. They wanted to stay together because they had plenty in common. God however had other thoughts in mind.
Ego is one of the most terrible destructive forces. When it raises its head, it spares no one. They might have had close bonds but after superannuation, tiny differences began surfacing between the one-time bosom friends and one thing led to another. One of them is no more. A really sad state of affairs that proves the golden words – Man proposes, God disposes.


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

New outlets for fresh fish from Chilika

The Great Indian Bustard makes a comeback

Trekking options open up in Uttarakhand


Another boss who understood my feelings

My boss rode a scooter and wore a wig

The man who loved his work


Airstrikes kill at least 27 ISIS militants in Iraq

US police arrest serial killer of Phoenix who had killed at least nine people

Gunmen disguised as doctors shoot dead 38 persons in a Kabul hospital


Sequel of ABBA's hit musical Mamma Mia on the cards

Hackers demand ransom for Disney’s latest Pirates film

'Wonder Woman' with Gal Gadot arriving in India in June