A cat has nine lives, I have many more – 2

This is about another of my near death experiences, also in Kolkata. It was in the 1970s and involved a bus. I did my schooling in St. Joseph's College, an English medium school. My mother tongue is Bengali and my knowledge on it was limited. In college, I faced problems with the language and a pass in it was compulsory for the I. Sc. Exams. The pass mark was 30 percent and I somehow managed to scrape through with 31 percent. This preyed on my mind and I decided to devote some of my time to write in Bengali. I did it on the sly and sent the stories across to a few magazines. And – I struck pay dirt in 1967. That was when I got an employment in HAL Nashik. I was at Howrah Station to catch the train and went to the bookstall to buy some magazines to read during the journey. Believe it or not, one of the magazines had published my story. I needed a breakthrough and this was it.

During one of my visits to Kolkata in the 1970s, I came to know of a magazine that wanted writers. Its address was on the outskirts of the city and I was not familiar with the area. I talked with the locals and got an idea of the locality. I had to take a bus and had to wait for the bus to come along. It was crowded and when I asked for a ticket, I discovered that it was a wrong bus. It had started to move and I tried to get down from the moving bus. I landed on the road and the bystanders helped me to my feet. This could have had serious consequences but I lived to tell the tale of another experience with death.


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A weekend at Bachelor Mess listening to Rabindra Sangeet

After seeing my name in Bengali print for the first time, it was but natural that I pursue this further to improve not just my standard of writing but also to gain acceptance as one who can express his thoughts in his mother tongue.
In the course of my regular duties, I would write – my mind was full of ideas and, coupled with the varied experiences that I was acquiring, I discovered that I could write a couple of pages and end up with a story of sorts.
I would then take it to two of my critics – they worked in different sections and were always ready to give it a look over and suggest changes. Some of the changes I would accept, some I would ignore. Yes, there would be arguments and counter arguments and it was fun. All the three of us were bachelors and that added to the fun.
I remember that one Saturday they asked me to stay over for the weekend in the Bachelor Mess. This was a building that had been built by HAL Nashik near to the factory and was meant to accommodate the male bachelors who had honed service.
Well – it was indeed a memorable weekend. One of the residents had a wonderful voice. He was a Russian language interpreter. After dinner he invited us to a session of songs. Therefore, I and other Bengalis trooped after him to the roof where he sang Rabindra Sangeet (songs of Tagore) – his stock of songs was fantastic and time literally flew.
Anyway, I did my writings in the factory and got them written properly on one side of foolscap paper once I returned to McKenzie Bungalow. Later, I set hem by post to the magazine. I had stated with one magazine and later got a second one added. Both were just names to me as I was to them –and, I decided that next time I visited Kolkata I would drop in on them and surprise them. (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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