BLOG 13 - CALCUTTA BATCH MATES

Friendships are defined by one’s childhood upbringing, reading of Literature and the input of those who influence you during your formative years.

During the course of my school days, a passage from Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet’ became the bedrock of my later years of thought and action. To quote Hamlet Act I Scene iii:

“Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.

Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,

Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel;

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment

Of each new-hatch’d, unfledg’d comrade.

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:

Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy judgement.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be:

For loan oft loses both itself and friend;

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

This above all,—to thine own self be true;

And it must follow, as the night the day,

Thou canst not then be false to any man.”

When it comes to lifelong friendships, nothing can portray it better than a scene from one of Asterix comics. Four geriatrics are sitting on a wayside bench, leaning on their walking sticks, gossiping, ogling the passing females, commenting on everything under the sun, but turning as meek as kittens and quickly returning home when loudly called by the wife.

Chapter 8

ABOUT MY CALCUTTA BATCH MATES

I cannot, in good conscience, close this chapter of my life without mentioning some of the batch mates who helped me and influenced me or just became fast friends. I am writing about the friends I made more on the basis of who I knew first. Obviously the Calcutta batch mates were known to me for the full 4 years, whereas I came to know my Bombay batch mates only when they came to Calcutta for their Fourth Year, in 1969. Even though I knew my Bombay batch mates for only a year in DMET, some of them became everlasting friends, friends to this day, or till Death do us apart (yuk, Rangan)

Ashok Kumar Sharma – I have to thank my stars he was with me for the four years. Without him, I would probably have been relegated and may not have completed the first three years. An unspoken agreement we had was that I improve his English language skills and he would improve me academically. He would tell me about life in rural Bihar.

The word pictures that he painted influence me even today and gave me a deep rooted understanding of the toils and turmoils, the trials and tribulations of the rural folk and its peasantry. How different from the peaceful rural life of my village!

That such a brilliant mind came out of the brambles of Bihar was a wonder in itself. Initially he was very self conscious of his English speaking skills and so was withdrawn, but flowered later and became more friendly with others. The more rowdy batch mates also, later, acknowledged his brilliance and he came to be called ‘Guruji’.

He was also, like me, another innocent victim in the ‘Ragging Case’ in our Second Year. There were many a day we spent together, 7 of us in all, eating samosas, drinking tea in ‘matkas’, waiting under trees in the court premises for our case to be called.

I still remember that, having exams the next day, Sharma used to be coaching me for the next day’s exam.

In my opinion, he should have been one of the top contenders for the President’s Gold Medal, but never put himself in the running. He was content within himself and it showed as, after a brief stint at sea, he joined as a Lecturer in Bombay DMET and continued there for a long while. We lost touch with each other after DMET and I have only met him once in the last 50 years.

Arun Prakash Sahni – Another close friend whom I lost contact with. Arun was a very inward looking person, very cerebral and philosophical. Imagine the statue of ‘The Thinker’ (Rodin / Paris) and one has Arun in a nutshell. I was very close to him and used to tease him a lot about this comparison, more to get him out of his serious demeanour. He used to give me a tired, bemused look and, once in a while, come out of it.

During the four years of DMET, when out on City Leave, there must have been at least a hundred times that he took me to his home. I have felt the warmth and affection of a family in very few places – his was one of them. They – his Father, Mother, Brother and Sister – welcomed me with open arms into their midst and I became another member of his family.

His Father had escaped the massive butchering during the Partition of India and somehow made his way to Delhi and then Calcutta. He lost his entire family in the mass migration that took place at that time.

We, in the South, were cushioned by the Vindhya Mountains and the Partition was only another event in the political life of the country. The raw manifestation of the human tragedy of Partition came to light, for me, through anecdotal experiences of Arun’s Father. The British – they followed their ‘Divide and Rule’ policy for the entire period that they ruled India, with their crowning moment being the Partition of India. During the 200 years’ rule, of course, they looted and plundered India from east to west and from north to south, and left no stone unturned. The evidence of this large scale looting and plundering can be seen in the stately homes and castles of their monarchy and nobility. The British Museum possesses and displays stunning treasures looted, which is only a miniscule amount of what lies in various stately homes.

I digress. Arun’s home, for me, was a home away from home. The introduction to, and the love of, Punjabi cuisine came from there. His Mother was a total vegetarian, unlike the rest of his family. So, I felt more at home. I can, even now, salivate at the thought of the hot chappaties and sabjis and lassis that she served up for me innumerable times. They were poor in wealth but rich in culture, rich in the largesse of affection which they bestowed on me, a total stranger. My sincere thanks to them.

After 1970, I met Arun and his family in 1976, when I went to Calcutta to do my Chief Engineer’s examination.

Subin Das – Known as ‘Bubun’ to his closest friends and family, he was another person who became a close friend of mine from the latter half of 2nd year onwards. It happened more by accident than by design. During one of the City Leave’ days, I was more or less alone in the hostel, having decided not to go out as I did not have much money on me.

As he was going out of the hostel, he saw me and, on an impulse, forced me to come with him to his home. I was introduced to Bengali culture, conservatism and colour. Somehow, their customs and rituals ran parallel to South Indian culture. His parents were the typical, conservative, Bengalis. Their children, the son (my batchmate) and daughter, were conservative as long as their Father and Mother were around, and shed the slough of their conservatism when beyond their gaze.

Once again, they were a fount of affection and love. My growing knowledge of spoken Bengali made me hold a special place with them. I went to their place quite a few times after that and was welcomed. Going over to their place, I was able to forget – at least for a while - the Democles’ Sword of the court case hanging over me. Many a time he and his sister would take me out for Bengali movies, due to which I came to know of the rich culture of the Bengalis – not very different from South Indian culture – and I saw the likes of Uttam Kumar, Soumitra Chatterjee, Aparna Sen, all iconic actors whose talent can never be replicated even today. Satyajit Ray movies, where the director is king, were akin to savoured food on a platter. Although I appreciated his movies, I could not fathom the reason for such pathos and moodiness in movies to such a great extent. The 1950s saw the movie trend – in practically all languages – to be one where the audience cries every second scene.

I also spent a few days staying at Subin’s place during one of the Pooja holidays (during my Third Year) and became a part of the family as they celebrated Durga Pooja. It was unforgettable. He and his sister made it more unforgettable by making their circle of friends accept me into their group. The pomp, the pageantry, the way the elders celebrate with Bhakti and fervour, the way the young celebrate with total abandon – I have not seen such an equivalent in the South. Even the Ganesh Pooja in Maharashtra and Bombay, which I witnessed in later years, paled in comparison to the Durga Pooja of Calcutta.

After 1970, our paths crossed a few times till 1976. Then I lost track of him till 1983 or 1984, when he joined Barber’s.

Rajan Isaac – Sometimes, when you first meet, you know that you have a friend for life. Rajan was one of those. He spoke very little, more taciturn than vocal. A no-nonsense person with a strict demeanour hiding a heart of gold. A friend who will help at all times. I like to think that I am the lucky and privileged one to count him as my close friend.

His Father. Mother and Sister were living in the BNR Colony (Bengal Nagpur Railway colony), as his Father was working in the Railways. There were quite a number of pleasant visits over the four year period.

For shippies, friendship is a peculiar phenomenon. Years pass by with no contact, each busy with constructing a life for one’s self. A chance remark that so-and-so has come here or settled here, means an immediate restoration of friendship at levels where one had last seen each other.

More than a chance remark was the arrival of his marriage invitation, posted to my home in Chromepet, in Jan 1977. As luck would have it, I had just completed, and obtained, my Chief Engineer’s Certificate in Dec 1976 and I was home when the invitation came. I had just then resigned from SISCO and was seriously contemplating joining a Foreign company.

I always had a secret desire to visit South Indian temples and spend as much time as I wanted at the temples that interested me. So, I put my career on hold and started on this pilgrimage. The first step was to attend Rajan’s wedding in Cochin / Ernakulam.

I reached Ernakulam in the early hours of the morning on the same day that the wedding was to take place. After a shower in a hotel, I got ready and found I had misplaced the invitation and had no clue which Church the wedding was taking place. Luckily, I had time on my hands and thought to myself I can quickly find the Church. How many can there be? These were the days before cell phones, laptops and internet. The auto rickshaw driver took me to so many churches that day that I lost count. I am sure it was more than 15 when I got off one such Church and enquired if it was Rajan’s wedding. By chance, Rajan saw me from a distance and sent his relative to greet me. To my surprise and pleasure, another batch mate, Govinder Kapoor was also present.

Rajan and Sheila got married and both of them continue to be my friends to this day. I went along with the marriage party to Rajan’s place in Trichur. After a day’s stay, I started my programmed pilgrimage, details of which will come later.

Once Rajan settled in Chennai, our meetings became more frequent, as and when I used to be back from a contract.

Rajan left the sea (I think) in the early eighties and, to my good luck, settled down in Chennai, whereon we never lost touch with each other. Later, the wives became friends, the children became friends.

I still cannot forget a particular sight when, in 1988 or 1989, he was in Madras Port Trust quarters and we visited him. All the children were playing in the garden below and there was my 2½ year old son, at the back of the carrier of a bicycle, holding on to Rajan's son's waist for dear life, with Rajan’s eldest son happily pedaling away and entertaining my son.

K Padmanabhan : We became good friends in first year itself, especially during the height of ragging, when I had to stand in the corridor of my Sadan and sing “Maadi Mele Maaddi Katti Kodi Kodi Sethu Vaitha Seemane” (also known as “Viswanathan Vellai Vendum”) as loudly as I can across the quadrangle, with Paddu also having to compete and belt out the same song from the diagonally opposite Newton Sadan corridor. Our Bengali seniors seemed to get a vicarious pleasure from this performance, so this went on for a few weeks. In my second year, after my Father got transferred to Madras from Secunderabad, Paddu helped me find my house in Madras. It happened to be just a couple of streets away from his. Surprise of all was his Father and my Father used to stand in the same queue for milk in the mornings. Another lifelong friend.

CS Ramakrishnan : Another close friend for life. His interest in sports coincided with mine. Excellent cricketer, who could have probably made it into the Indian team, had it not been for DMET. With him in the team, the college started winning against other colleges in Calcutta, amid intense competition. Playing cricket was not my forte, but I was an avid spectator and remain one even 50 years down the line. He was good in quite a few games, table tennis being one of them.

So, we clashed in inter Sadan tournaments. I still remember one year in which Raman Sadan (mine) and Froude Sadan (his) met in the finals. Playing a Davis Cup format (two singles, one doubles and reverse singles), we were 2 matches all (I had won my first singles’, my team mate lost his, we won the doubles, my team mate lost his reverse singles), when Rama and I had to play the decider. I was off my game that day and, suddenly, we were at 2 games all, with Mohan (Ramakrishnan) leading 20-12 in the decider. To his chagrin, I regained my form and took the rest of the points to register a thrilling win and lift the trophy for my Sadan. Both of us have not forgotten that day, even 50 years down the line.

When he used to take me to his home (Motilal Nehru Street, Ballygunge??), I met his family and came to know them well. His Father and I used to have serious discussions on various topics, his Mother was only interested in feeding me.

As with others, I lost track of him for quite a while, till I came to know he was in Singapore in a shore job. So, my Singapore visits meant meeting him and his wife Usha. Later, I came to know his children, Kavita and Arjun – lovely children.

I also used to visit his parents and the rest of his family when I went back to Madras, his Father, by then, having retired and settled in Madras.

KS Roy: From the beginning of my 1st Year, I knew him well, as he was also a victim of ragging. He would not suck up to his seniors, most of whom were Bengalis, as he was too. We had common cause to dislike our raggers and that brought us closer together.

He did not talk much. But, when he did, I listened and learnt about a culture that was as old as mine. The warmth of our friendship lasted many decades. With him being in Barber Ship Management, we came across each other several times, much to our delight. He and his wife, Ruma, both passed away end 2020.

Ruma used to look after her parents and his parents till they passed away. I cannot forget the rueful way she told me once that when they all wake up in the morning, one set of parents would complain that they are constipated, whereas the other set of parents would complain of loose motions. Joint family at its best!!! I admired her fortitude.

K Gopakumar: Although I was not close to him during the 4 years in DMET, we became fast friends when I was working for Barber Ship Management (BSM). In fact, it was through him that I joined BSM, which I will expand on when the sequence comes around.

S. Mukhopadhyay, AN Shaw, Pradeep Ganguly, Debashish Basu, Biswajit Basu, Swadhin Bose, AK Saha, D Ghosh, my seniors MK Dutta, P Mittar, AN Ray, RK Chadha, were all who influenced me in one way or another.

There were many others I have not mentioned. If I do so, this will look more like a year book.

I intend to write about my close friends, made from the group that came from Bombay for the fourth year, after a few pages but well before this narrative of my College days ends.

===== Continues in Blog 14 =====