He loved a game of contract bridge

Here is the twenty seventh unforgettable character in my life …

In those days, there were young men who married by giving information that was not true – it was sad because, after the marriage, it broke many homes. I have seen it happen. Anyway, the person I will now write about did no such thing – he handled the electrical aspects of the fighter aircraft and he got married to a girl who had a wonderful voice. She could render Rabindasangeet like any well-known singer.

He was also a footballer and an acknowledged player of bridge – he and his partner had participated in many national bridge tournaments and rubbed shoulders with the likes of bridge maestro Jimmy Mehta.
The wife was a calm lady, busy in her household activities and came on stage whenever requested to do so to sing Rabindra sangeet – either solo or in a group. In order to assist his wife, my friend learnt how to play the tabla and would accompany his wife on stage. None of them believed in creating problems.
As per traditions of those who live in a place for a very long time, he purchased a plot of land with the intention of building his own house and living there after retirement. The fact that his younger brother also stayed in the city and had a small business of his own added to his desire of staying on here. But, events willed otherwise.
His small family was complete with the only child, a son – he had little or no interest in either games or music. He was a studious boy and moved from one class to the next with honors. He finally became a Doctor and is currently in Pune. There is no certainty of his returning to Nashik. Therefore, my friend has sold off the land and shifted over to Pune to be with his son.


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He was a great help in the Kolkata Book Fair

Here is the twenty sixth unforgettable character in my life …

When we attended the Calcutta Book Fair for the first time in 1992, we had innumerable first-time experiences. The most memorable was the setting up of the stall. We had requested for the smallest space and were accordingly allotted a ten feet by ten feet area with tarpaulin roof. That was the normal practice – whoever rented the stalls had to get the decorations done by themselves.

Immediately we arrived at the venue to identify our location and take over the stall, we were besieged by hordes of people. They were decorators who wanted to take our contract. They explained their ideas and we listened and asked for rough financial estimates. In between, we rested in the makeshift tea stalls and pondered over the pros and cons. Our budget was literally a shoestring one. We had scraped together the minimum finance necessary to book the stalls and had vague estimates but the estimates of the field decorators floored us. It was at this point of time that the cousin of one of my partners came to our rescue.
He assured us that he would get the stall set up and would see that the expenses were kept to the barest minimum. He was experienced in such work because he had a couple of friends who built the local Saraswati puja pandals. They were in the know of things and, since the fair was being held during the Saraswati pujas, we heaved a sigh of relief. He arranged to shift bamboos and plywood to the venue and he and his team stayed up three nights to erect the structure.
When the fair doors were thrown open, ours was one of the stalls that was complete in all respects. He was our savior in the two subsequent years 1993 and 1995 that we participated in the Calcutta Book fair.


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

Jharkhand to become plastic free, ban on polybags less than 50 micron thick

Conflict between man and elephants on the rise in Odisha

Gurgaon to get environment friendly electric buses


He was a Chinese and his assistant was a Muslim

He was framed for a crime he did not commit

He was my first boss and be taught me the basics


Clint Eastwood's upcoming film "The 15:17 to Paris"

Work on superhero film "Deadpool 2" begins

'Spider-Man: Homecoming' brings back the teenage crime fighter


Two Americans gored by bulls in the San Fermin bull running festival

At least 15 killed in shootout in Mexico between police and drug gangs

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He was a Chinese and his assistant was a Muslim

Here is the twenty fifth unforgettable character in my life …

I knew him in my school days – he was the in-charge of a Chinese laundry that had rented a space on the main road in the same building in which my family and I stayed on rent. It was in Shyambazar – the time was in the mid-fifties. There was a shooting by the police on agitators who were protesting the hike in the price of tram tickets by one paisa. One of the bullets lodged in the wooden frame of our flat and, the next day, police came to retrieve the bullet and checkup for other damages.

The Chinese laundry was huge – it catered to special clothes and garments especially woolen ones. The in-charge had regular customers and did a reasonably good business. The clothes ready for delivery would be hung in closets that were located overhead. When someone came to take delivery, the in-charge would see the number on the receipt and with a long wooden rod move the sliding closet door to search for the respective item.
Once he found it, he would use the same wooden rod to lower it – the rod had a hook at one end. Some of the clothes would be in glass cases behind the large table that separated the business area. The clothes meant for washing would be taken in a van to the central agency – the van was a modified version of the cycle rickshaw with the enclosed box positioned in front of the cyclist. The cyclist was a Muslim.
The dry cleaners were well known in the locality and, in order to attract more customers, the in-charge had a novel idea. He installed a huge aquarium in the front show case – there would be a flock of young and old watching the fish in the evenings when he would switch on the illumination. After some months, he added another attraction – a stuffed mongoose fighting with a snake. Even though he was much older than me, we were good friends and he was a helpful neighbor as well. We lost contact when my family shifted over to our own house. However, after the Chinese aggression, the cleaners closed down and I lost track of him.


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

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He was framed for a crime he did not commit

Here is the twenty fourth unforgettable character in my life …

We have seen in Bollywood movies of how sincere and honest men are victimized by bad elements and punished for a crime he did not commit and I have seen it happen in real life.
The gentleman was a soft spoken man, an officer in our organization. He was jovial by nature and his only vice was drinks but, he remained within his limits and did not be a cause of anxiety for his family. His family consisted of a son and two daughters and the younger of the daughters was more of a tom-boy. At a time when girls were more accustomed to ride on the pillion rather than be in the driver’s seat, she would zoom around on a motor bike dressed in jeans and jacket, her hair flying in the wind.
The elder daughter was a docile creature and the son loved everything rough and tough.
Anyway, this friend of mine was sincere in his work and hardworking and was due for promotion but had many competitors. In those days, getting a promotion involved a bit of luck because the number of aspirants was invariably more than the number that could be accommodated.

But, in his case, what happened was downright evil and whoever dreamt up the plan must have felt sorry at the way things turned out in the end, he must have repented but that cannot wish away the sad events.
In those days, the entry and exit gate for officers was separate and the security never checked their bags. But, on this day, my friend was stopped at the gate and the security guards searched his bag. They discovered some material that belonged to the company- in other words, he was stealing company property.
Normally, the bags of officers are not searched but, in this case, it was. Obviously, it was a plant and the security was informed to check his bag. Out went his promotion and disciplinary action was initiated against him but, it was too much for him to digest. He suffered a heart stroke, was hospitalized and passed away. When I think about him, I wonder how people can stoop so low to victimize others for their own selfish needs.


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

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The teacher who taught me Bengali

He taught me to ride a scooter

He was one of the wittiest persons I have ever met


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He was my first boss and be taught me the basics

Here is the twenty third unforgettable character in my life …

When I joined in Nashik as a first line supervisor in the aircraft manufacturing factory, my first boss was a Bangalorean. He was the departmental head and had risen from the ranks and did not possess any degree but had loads of wisdom. I learnt some of the basics of management from him directly and some more by observing him, his actions and reactions.
He taught me to lead by example. He had an old Fiat car and would park it in the parking lot and walk down to the hangar. In winter, he would be dressed in his coat, muffler and gloves and, once in the hangar, he would climb up the stairs, go to his room, remove the coast, muffler and gloves stand on the balcony. Then he would start to roll up his sleeves and begin to climb down the stairs.

His message was clear – dress should not create any obstruction to do one’s work.
Another thing he taught me was to ask questions. There were nearly 300 staff under him and they included technicians. They worked in eight different sections and I was in charge of one section. My boss would come to my section and suddenly enquire about the whereabouts of one of my men. The first time he asked me, I shot off a standard reply – ‘he had gone to the toilet.’ He nodded and waited for the man to return. Then he asked him where he had been. The man replied that he had gone to the tool crib to get a drill bit. I was embarrassed but my boss looked at me, smiled and said – ‘always ask questions. Even if you know the answer, ask.’
Then there was his most important message of how to handle others. It was my first job and most of the men who worked under me were of my age. There were a few Bengalis and, during the tea break we would our sip our tea together and exchange pleasantries. We would even share a smoke. One day, my boss called me aside and said – ‘Ghose, people are a source of fire. If you go too close, you will get burnt. If you stay too far way, you will not enjoy the warmth. Therefore, you must know just how much distance you should maintain.’


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

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He laughed his way through life

Here is the twenty second unforgettable character in my life …

They made a typical pair – he was fair skinned, like a European, she was on the slim side. Both were Bengalis settled far away from Bengal – they were from the land of the Taj Mahal. Her father owned a Hotel and his father was in the Air force. And – he always had a ready smile on his face.

When we first met, their son was a toddler. Although my friend had a permanent job, his wife wanted to keep herself occupied and joined the local school as a teacher in the KG section. Within a short span of time, she made a name for herself and had a large following. She loved the attention and enjoyed it. In the meantime, their son joined the same school and, as he progressed from one class to the next, he kept on showing his brilliance. The parents basked in the glory of their son.
Normally, the son is identified as the prodigy of his parents, here it was just the opposite – the parents were known as the parents of so-and-so, the top scorer of the school. He was able to get admission to the medical branch with ease. There also, he continued to top score and, soon after completion of the course, he moved over to England for acquiring more qualifications and for gaining more knowledge and experience. His parents got him married off to a girl from Kolkata. Simultaneously, they purchased a plot of land in a good locality where their son could set up his hospital or nursing home.
That was a long time ago. The boy has now returned to India and stays in Kolkata – he is attached to one of the leading hospitals in the city. My friend and his wife have also shifted over to Kolkata and are enjoying a happy retired life.


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

New nesting sites for crocodiles in Gahirmatha Wildlife Sanctuary

Patna-Delhi Rajdhani Express to get a new look

Goa expects a flood of tourists


The teacher who taught me Bengali

He taught me to ride a scooter

He was one of the wittiest persons I have ever met


'Spider-Man: Homecoming' brings back the teenage crime fighter

Adele calls a halt to her tour, London will be her final stop

Christopher Nolan's Dunkirk set for release in India in July


Six Afghanistan policemen killed in Taliban attack

Cable car kills seven tourists in Gulmarg

More than 150 killed in explosion of oil tanker in Pakistan

He was the first critic of my Bengali stories

Here is the twenty second unforgettable character in my life …

As I have mentioned earlier, I began to write stories in Bengali. It was a tedious process and a story had to be written and rewritten a number of times to make it presentable to the Editor. I used up sheafs of papers in the process before the final product came out.
I stayed in Nashik and my editors were in Kolkata so I would send my story by post and wait for the complimentary copy to arrive by post. Once it arrived, I would read it, then my wife and then I would take it to my critic.

Criticism helps one to improve. This is true in all walks of life. He was a severe critic of my writings. On Sundays, I would go over to his quarter with my new writings and hand them to him; he would return the manuscripts that I had left with him on the previous occasion. Then, over a cup of tea, he would begin his criticism – I had to clear his doubts; in the bargain, I learnt about the deficiencies in my writings. Occasionally he would add his own thoughts, those were useful and I would weave them into the final piece.
He had two daughters. They were sweet little things bubbling with energy. The elder was a bit on the quiet side while the younger was always busy in her activities including NCC. The parents had high hopes for them. They had even purchased a bungalow knowing fully well that one day they would have to occupy it all by themselves because the daughters would leave them for their in-laws. However, they were not ready for the way things turned out.
The elder one had got a job of sorts after completing her course in computers – she decided to marry one of her colleagues. He was a Punjabi. This came as a shock to my friend and his wife – they were staunch Brahmins! But the girl was adamant –finally, she had her way. It was difficult for my friend to reconcile to this; still he accepted the situation bravely. His wife even went to the extent of dressing in Punjabi style and joining in the bhangra dance.
Then their second daughter decided to tie the knot with a boy from Andhra.
Both the daughters are happily settled in their respective places –the elder in Delhi, the younger one in Bangalore. They have children of their own and my friend visits them regularly in between going to Kolkata and coming back to Nashik. He is now in his late seventies and I met him and his wife recently – they still retain plenty of the old world charms!


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

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