Independence of India – I was there on that day

Yes, I was present on 15th of August 1947. It was the Independence Day of India and I was a three-year old child at the time. On this, the 75th Independence Day, I still remember how people enjoyed the occasion. At that time, I stayed with my parents and younger brother in Belgachhia. It was in North Calcutta and my father owned a lorry. He with two of his friends had a business of sorts. They used to transport coal from the coalfields and distribute them to the local dealers. They had a very trusted driver who was a Muslim and played a crucial role. It was a period of unrest with riots between the two communities prior to the partition of Bengal. The driver would ensure that the lorry with my father and his friends would move out safely through sensitive spots. He carried a change of clothes in the lorry and the occupants wore them, as necessary, to avoid any local problems. These are what my father told me much later when I could understand the intricacies.

Anyway – to come back to details of 15th of August 1947. It was raining and I was in the lorry. It was crowded and my parents were there as were the families of his partners. There were many others and the, lorry was crowded as were the roads. They were jam packed with people who carried the Indian flag and shouted slogans of Bharat Mata ki jai. There were also lines of vehicles and all of them were moving at a snail’s pace in one direction. All of them wanted to see the huge statue of Bharat Mata that a shop in College Street had put up. The shop was a landmark. It sold readymade clothes and the statue was enclosed in a glass case on the first floor and visible from the road. It was still there in the 1960s when I used to travel to my school in Bowbazar Street and college in Park Street. I do not know if it is still there.

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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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