Anurag’s 50th

 For Anurag’s 50th

I remember the day when you came into this world, I was not around, was away to Mumbai attending a technical course at the IIT. There were no mobiles. The IIT office got a call from Daddy that I attended. I was told that Varsha has been moved to the Holy Family Hospital. 

I managed to catch the fastest train to Delhi, that was the Frontier Mail. It used to take close to 24 hours. Taking a flight was not even imagined in our wildest dreams. 

The train had an unscheduled halt at Okhla station. I got off there, as there was just a small airbag in the name of my baggage. 

I reached the hospital in record time, you had already come into the world. Could only see you through the glass partition of the nursery.

It’s a strange and euphoric indescribable feeling when you see your own flesh and blood in a seperate being. 

Could only touch and hold you when you came to Varsha’s room for your feed. 

I stayed back in Delhi for just two or three days and rushed back in the same way as I came to enable me to finish the training. 

As a small child, before the age of 3, you were quite subdued and literally sought permission for each and every action. And look at you now, holding the reins of a million dollar, or is it a billion dollar, company and steering it to goal after goal. 

You were shy and did not make friends with strangers. While in Chandigarh, at the age of 5-6, you literally had to be pushed to join the kids playing cricket in the open field near our house. 

You and Chaitali stayed with us in most of your growing up years. This gave us an opportunity to have a lot of companionship with you both. I still remember teaching both of you cycling, swimming, and even driving a car. 

Remembering all those moments and growing up years shall be cherished for ever by Varsha and me. There are infinite memories that will stay with me for life. 

Wishing you the best in life for this 50th birthday of yours.

Short Story 1 - MEOW

Hi, 

My second book - that is in progress at the moment - is going to be a book of short stories of a suspense and mystery genre. 

One story is reproduced below. I would not only love to have your comments, I do need your honest feedback.

At times giving comments on the blogs does not work, especially when you do so on a mobile, feel free to write to me by any direct message, Mail, messenger or whatsapp.

Thank you in advance.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Thnks

TN

MEOW - मैं आऊँ - Triloki Nagpal - 30th May 2021. 2273 Words

In the year 1981, I was visiting Calcutta, now Kolkata, while I was working in the British Company - Molins of India Ltd, which had one of its factories cum Head Office in Behala, in Calcutta, not too far from the DMET, on the Taratala Road. I was posted at the other factory in Mohali, near Chandigarh. A childhood friend of mine had completed his Marine Engineering from the DMET (Directorate Of Marine Engineering Training), and was staying in the Behala area itself. He was my best friend when I was studying in the South Point School in the Gariahat area. We were also staying very close, barely about 100 metres from each other's place. We were in Lake Place and his house was on Parasar Road. We used to be picked from the same point by our school bus. His name was Sukumar, an only child of a Keralite father and a Bengali mother. Because of the mixed lineage he was not only very handsome, but also a very rational and an intelligent young man. He did not believe in blind superstitions, after life, ghosts or god. I would say his thinking was very similar to my rationality and thinking. 

He invited me to spend an evening with him. He told me that he was living alone. I was aware that he had married quite a few years ago. 

I asked, “How is baudi?” 

He said, “We are meeting in the evening!”, without really answering my query.

I reached his house in a black and yellow cab, after finishing my work for the day at Molins. It was a three bedroomed house and was furnished appropriately for a family. It was immaculately clean and decorated tastefully, that made me feel the presence of a feminine touch. The master bedroom also did appear to have the feminine touch with small and simple artifacts and photo frames on the walls and the cabinets. The second bedroom was converted to a well furnished guest room. The third and the smaller bedroom was converted into a study. There was a small outhouse, ideally suited for a live-in domestic help. 

Although Sukumar had a live-in manservant who did his cooking and cleaning, he wanted to take me out for drinks and dinner on board of a ship that was berthed in the harbour docks between the Calcutta Port Trust and Garden Reach. We walked through the DMET campus and boarded the ship by a ramp, he did tell me the name of the vessel though it eludes me now. I felt that this was his regular haunt, as the waiters and the crew members all seemed to know him and almost everyone we accosted exchanged greetings with him. After reaching there I discovered that they had the availability of a vast range of imported alcohols, viz., beers, hard drinks - like scotch, single malts, liqueurs, and many others. I was told to enjoy, have my pick and imbibe whatever I desired. First time I saw a bottle of Benedictine (liqueur). It is distilled and bottled in France, and contains 40% alcohol. Tastes almost like honey and cognac mixed together. It's a sweet liqueur that has a very deliciously unique flavor and taste. The label on the bottle informed me that it is made with 27 herbs, spices, and peels. The flavor is smooth and sweet, like honey, and also has a subtle taste of licorice to it too, with a flavor of sweet spices. The original drink, also explained on the bottle, was distilled and prepared by the monastery of the Order of St, Benedict, an Italian monk. The present day drink was developed in the 19th century. I relished it so much that I did not try the favourite Scotch or any of the Single Malts at all. In fact this needs to be taken straight and can really knock you down easily. He told me that you can drink for free on the ship, as much as you desire, but no drink can be carried out from the docks unless it is in your tummy.

Sukumar was happy with his single malt. After his three 60 ml pegs he told me the story that I am repeating almost verbatim.

“After finishing school, I joined DMIT and completed my B. Tech from there with good performance. Somehow, I was not eager to start as a sea-farer, and I easily managed a job in Balmer Lawrie as a Management Trainee and was posted to their head office in Calcutta.

“I got married almost four years ago, within two years of starting my job, and had a very loving and beautiful Bengali girl for my wife. She was also working in the same company and that's how we met. We loved life, and were literally ‘made for each other’. We must have visited most of the restaurants in Calcutta. We saw movies, spent time in theatres, and did whatever was there to do. Like lovers, we would always hold hands while walking, or going anywhere. The company was also kind enough to allot me a two bedroom flat in the Alipore area. It was on the second floor with a beautiful view of a children’s park from its balcony and our master bedroom windows. It was fully furnished, as it had been used as a guest house by the company for some time; so we could just move into it just with our suitcases. 

“We were both very happy. We had our small world. Stable job, decent income and a comfortable lifestyle with all amenities that could be desired by an upper middle class couple. The first two years of my marriage were like an extended honeymoon. We were both fond of similar and non-vegetarian fare. Having been brought up in Calcutta, I also loved the Bengali food and the local cuisine. We always slept close together on the double bed and cuddled up like newlyweds. When she slept curled up, with her head on my chest, she used to snore softly, almost sounding like a cat purring. Soft fragrance of shampoo from her hair would put me into a deep and peaceful slumber.

“I used to call her a biral, a cat, in Bengali, and it was a standard joke between us; she would show her fangs and claws and playfully attack me. I had given her the pet name of Biral; her actual name was Tapti and was affectionately called Tinku in her parents’ house. She would say that she will be born as a cat in her next life. We both used to laugh about it. Like me, she was also a rationalist and did not actually believe in the afterlife, rituals or any superstitions.”

Sukumar became very emotional at this point in his story and I could see tears welling up in his eyes. He took another fill of his single malt and just gulped down the full peg. He continued:

“We were both fond of visiting historical sites and ancient temples, churches, mosques and other religious places. She was always the planner for our trips and visits. Although we both had been to Dakshineswar and Belur Math, we decided to go there once again - more as an outing than a pilgrimage. We took a cab till Belur Math and had planned to cross the river by boat and visit Dakshineswar. The return home would be by a cab or any other public transport from the eastern shore of the Hooghly. Although the river is less than a kilometer wide, going across by boat made one traverse a distance of 2.5 to 3 km, for landing at the ghat near the temple. A large size boat was available and filling up when we reached the boarding point. It could roughly take about 35-40 persons at one time, it had only two oarsmen cum punters. We took the particular boat and started our small journey across the river. All went smoothly till we reached near the pylons of the connecting bridge. The boat started going round and round, spinning on an imaginary central axis. Suddenly without warning, Tinku, who was sitting close to the edge, tumbled over and fell into the whirlpool in which our boat had got stuck. Her falling overboard was noticed and a lot of people on the boat started shouting. She disappeared in the water before anyone could react. Instinctively, I also dived in.  We both knew swimming. I just could not locate her. One oarsman had also jumped in but she was just not traced. The deep currents of the whirlpool probably sucked her to the river bed. We remained in that area for a long time, maybe about an hour or so without any luck. Ultimately the boat reached the shore near the Dakshineswar temple. I was accompanied by the oarsman to the police post in the vicinity to lodge the report and to be able to receive communication in case she or her corpse was found.”

At this point of the story Sukumar just could not keep control of himself and was sobbing and convulsing.  

He continued,

“Days turned into weeks, there was no sign or news of Tinku. I returned and joined my duty after a month of the incident. I was still not normal. I was distracted at work, I used to get nightmares and imagine her being in our bedroom and had a very disturbed sleep most of the time. I had to be prescribed antidepressants. At times I would have guilt feeling as to why we went by boat, or why I was not holding her hand at that time

“It had been a little over two months since Tinku disappeared in the river, I had a strange experience one night. I felt as if she were sleeping with me with her head on my chest, I could hear her soft snoring that I used to call ‘purring’ and I could smell the scent of her shampoo. I woke up sweating, I could feel her head on my chest. I reached for the light switch and I saw a white cat, a kitten about 6 week old, with yellow patches jumping out of the window. Calcutta does have a lot of semi-stray cats and mostly the Bengalis are quite affectionate to the felines. I did not think too much of it at that time.

“Later I realized that this particular cat had adopted me and I too would be looking forward to her coming. I named her Tinku. She would actually come and snuggle with me into my bed and I started sleeping quite soundly with the warmth from her body and the imagined perfume of Tinku’s shampoo in my nostrils.

“I have had a live-in female servant since before Tinku’s disappearance. She wanted to be excused and did not want to continue in my house after Tinku’s disappearance. I had managed to get another female servant for the house. Tinku, the cat, refused to accept her, it would hiss and try to attack the new servant. She had to be replaced and I opted for a man servant. It did resolve the issue. Meanwhile, I tried to get back into my social circle again. I had become close to another Bengali girl, Kajal, and I invited her for dinner to my place. To make it a little less obvious I had also roped in two male colleagues for the evening. The cat’s hostility towards Kajal seemed very obvious and apparent. In fact she lunged at her and scratched her cheek with her claws. It was apparent that Tinku, the cat, had become very possessive of me and was not willing to share me with another female. I have not dared to invite anyone and I have also stopped socialising.

“I am not able to discuss this dilemma with any of my friends or colleagues - they might feel that I have gone crazy; but I tell you that I am convinced that it's Tinku, my Biral, who sleeps with me every night. She also gives me company over dinner. She still enjoys her fish as well as all other favourite foods that we had. Please tell me TN, if you think I am going nuts? Do you think I need psychiatric help? You are the only one to whom I have told my full story.”

I was nonplussed and very disturbed by the facts as he narrated them.

We both had consumed more than enough alcohol and were in no position to even walk upto the gate of DMET from where we might have got a cab for his house. So we slept on the ship, in two of the empty bunkers in a cabin. 

In the morning I took a cab to my hotel in Shakespeare Sarani, from where I would be picked up by the Molins car. Sukumar was dropped off on the way. He was saying he shall take the day off and was keen that I join him for lunch. I told him I have to be in Molins till 5.30pm and can come to meet you at your place after that and can have dinner together. You have a good cook or we can get some food delivered and spend the time together. He seemed quite reluctant to be at home for dinner time. I had a feeling that he wanted to avoid exposing his Tinku to me. 

I was wondering if we had spent the previous night at his house, would his Tinku have come and shared his bed?

***

My Story 7 - Reading Road & Delhi University

 If you have come here before reading My Story No. 6 OR would like to go back to it, please click here.

As I mentioned that I joined Delhi College, which was a part of the Delhi University although its campus was nowhere near the University, which is now called the North Campus. The University also has a conglomeration of colleges that is referred to as the South Campus, it is situated near Moti Bagh, on the Ring Road. I had taken up Physics Honours in the B. Sc. course that I had joined. The strange part was that the classes of the main subjects, viz., Physics and Chemistry were held in the Delhi University and the subsidiary subjects classes, viz., English and Mathematics were held in the college. It was quite a grind that I had to shuttle from one location to the other for various classes. Someone suggested that I could apply to migrate to a college in the North Campus. Hindu College was the best running neck to neck with St Stephens, so as to avoid the hassles of classes being held in classrooms miles apart. I put in an application and it was accepted and I became a student of the ancient Hindu College. I call it ancient, as it was founded in 1899. It might interest some of my readers to know a brief history of the college

Hindu College was founded in 1899 by Krishan Dassji Gurwale in the backdrop of the nationalist struggle against the British Raj. Some prominent citizens, including Rai bahadur Amba Prasad, Gurwale Ji, decided to start a college that would provide nationalist education to the youth while being non-elitist and non-sectarian. Originally, the college was housed in a humble building in Kinari Bazar, Chandni Chowk, and it was affiliated to Punjab University as there was no university in Delhi at that time. As the college grew, it faced a major crisis in 1902. The Punjab University warned the college that the university would disaffiliate the college if the college failed to get a proper building of its own. Rai Bahadur Lala Sultan Singh came to rescue the college from this crisis. He donated a part of his historic property, which originally belonged to Colonel James Skinner, at Kashmiri Gate, Delhi, to the college. The college functioned from there till 1953. When the University of Delhi took birth in 1922, Hindu College along with Ramjas College and St. Stephen's College were subsequently affiliated to the University of Delhi, making them the first three institutions to be affiliated with the university. 

Around the same time, Pitaji got an allotment of a Vespa scooter from the Central Government quota - which had a wait time of about 8-9 years in the open market. The scooter too had been booked on my suggestion and request, a few months earlier. Now I pressurized him into buying it for the home, it could be used by either of us for numerous errands that I could think of. For every little need, we had to either pedal or walk to the Gole Market or the Bhagat Singh Market. So the scooter came into our house. The Reading Road house had more than ample space to keep the two-wheeler inside our premises. Until this time neither Pitaji nor I had ever driven a scooter. However, I would dream of driving it and theoretically knew how to drive it even before I laid my hands on it. 

Within a day or so, Mamaji - majai's younger brother came visiting and he did have a motorbike at one time. I immediately pestered him to take me to the Talkatora Gardens that had enough open space, to teach me how to drive the two-wheeler. I sat on the pillion and he drove us to the Gardens. After reaching the chosen area, he got foo and handed me the vehicle, and started telling me its theory. I cut him short, saying I know it all - just need the hands-on experience. I took two rounds of the garden and told him t sit on the pillion. Seeing my confidence he acceded to my request. I drove him back home. That was all the driving lesson I ever had. 

With DU campus, a co-educational college, and a scooter at my disposal I wasted my time in galavanting. I had a good friend (a boy) and we used to literally spend time in the coffee home rather than the classroom. I just had to pass one year and then go into an engineering college that was my goal. I did not have any girlfriend as such - though I did go to see a play in St Stephen's college with a girl, my classmate in  Physics Honours. I was quite shy and never asked any girl for an outing or a date. As a matter of fact, one day she casually mentioned the play, it had tickets, and said she could get them if I would be interested. That was the only "date" I ever had in this period of my education in Hindu College. 

The year passed quickly and without any real studies. I was applying to all Engineering Colleges now, finally, a good choice came in the form of BIT Mesra. I had also attended the counseling for the IIT Delhi and was offered Textile Engineering. I got totally put off by that. So off to Mesra Ranchi. Pitaji sold off the Vespa, as it was decided that I would not require it there as I was going to be staying in a hostel on the campus.

My Story 6 - Meri Dilli, Reading Road

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In 1961, Pitaji was allotted a Government accommodation on the same Reading Road where my school was located, just next to the Kali Bari. My school became a walking distance - about 4-5 minutes' walk, it was adjacent to the well known Birla Mandir also known as Lakshmi Narayan Temple. There was just a wall between us. In fact, the ridge behind ur school merged withe the ridge behind the temple, without even a fence in between. Our house was a ground floor bungalow, attached one side with the next bungalow in a row. Our house was just at the end of the row of houses, we just had a high boundary wall on the other side. It was just at the foot of the Lovers' Lane (now renamed Mandir Lane) that descended from the Central Ridge.

Birla Mandir, New Delhi

Life in Harcourt Butler was cool and comfortable, I quickly had a group of friends - one of the best friends that I had was Dilip Bam, a Maharashtrian. His father was a very senior officer in the Railways and they were staying in a government flat in Moti Bagh. We were in touch with each other till recently - when he left this world quite abruptly. Another friend was Vijay Bhushan Dixit, who was a great singer, he was junior to me by a year - but we had both joined the NCC Air Wing and had become good chums. He used to stay in the Government Flats also very close to the school and we used to visit each other's homes quite regularly. He was a fantastic singer and had a very melodious voice. At the age of 14, the voice of boys is often still very feminine before it starts cracking and they become hoarse. This friend of mine got nicknamed "Lata" (Lata Mangeshkar) by Pushpa, who used to love listening to his singing, her favorite was 'o basanti pawan paagal' from Dis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai, for a very long time. Recently I met him and his wife at the Harcourt Butler annual meet. He still sings as melodiously. He gave a performance on the stage in the function.

Harcourt Butler H S School

In Butler (as it was generally referred to), I also joined the NCC Airwing and remained in it for two years. I learnt aeromodelling - it was an interesting and also expensive hobby. Being in the NCC - we did not have to buy the kits for making the models. They were supplied to us by the NCC. They were either solid wood planes or planes with only a skeleton wooden frame pasted with stretched kite paper sheets for the skin. The skin was made weatherproof and strong by applying a lacquer-like solution that was called DOPE. The structures and the skin of the model almost replicated the structures as they would be in the actual aircraft, except for the fact that aircraft structures mostly used magnesium alloys, whereas only balsa wood was used in the aero models, no metal was used. Balsa was very lightweight but not very strong. A crash would invariably badly damage the model, mostly breaking it into a few pieces. We had various types of models classified as Chuck Gliders, Tow Gliders, Control Line Models, and Free Flight Models. The latter two were powered by small propellor IC engines that were got from the India Hobby Centre in Connaught Place. The fuel used was a mixture of methanol and castor oil (for lubrication). The most common name in aero models and engines was Aurora. Some other lesser-known brands were also available. It was very interesting to note how the engines would have to be fitted to the delicate balsa wood frame. A hardwood cowl was generally used on which the engine would be screwed, the cowl would then be pasted on the airframe by strong adhesives. The gliders had a limited range and they would generally glide back to the ground aided by gravity. The free flight models were really interesting and often they could travel as far as 2-3 km with their tiny engines with the tiny fuel tanks. In order not to lose the model, often a couple of cadets would be chasing the model on ground, trying to keep it in their line of sight. 
There were other categories of powered models also. One was powered by a rubber band that would have to be wound up and run propeller when released. These had a relatively short flight and the model would glide back to the ground after that. Another powered model was by a jet engine. A small jet engine without any rotating parts, were a little akin to the rockets that we use in Diwali - except that it was a reusable engine and it could be refilled by the dry fuel mix, would get powered when the fuse was lit.
Radio-controlled models had just made an entry too. Our school too managed to get one piece. There were only two controls, one for moving the stabilizers up or down (for UP or DOWN), the second for moving the rudder to in a sequence to the next of the three positions, viz., straight-right-left-straight-right-left-.... The controls were just actuators for giving a single pulse two tiny battery powered motors. If you are interested in knowing more about aeromodelling - just click here.

We had a very lovable incharge of NCC, First Officer WF Samson. All the boys (cadets) were very fond of him. We did not know what his initials stood for, so we called him WonderFul Samson. 
By virtue of my aeromodelling interests, I was also promoted to the rank of Corporal in a year's time. I was also awarded a small silver shield on our school annual day by Pt. Jawahar Lal Nehru while he was the PM in the country. The photograph is no longer available but the shield is still with me.
First Officer Samson was also quite influential and he kept the standard of our NCC amongst the better organized and managed schools to get facilities and benefits for his boys - as he would refer to us. Not only did our school's aeromodelling flourish during that time, but he also managed to organize a trip to Bombay for us, during which we were given a ride on INS Vikrant to visit the famous Elephanta Caves. During the ride most of us got a chance to steer the ship, receiving and confirming the commands through the voice tube. It was quite an interesting and rewarding experience for me. Aye aye, Sir!

Until the Bombay trip, I used to only wear shorts. Before going to Bombay, I insisted on having some trousers and I got three new trousers, the trip duration was below 10 days. It was quite a memorable trip - mostly without adventures and bizarre events, yet it was an experience as I was without the umbrella of the family. Apart from the Elephanta Caves, we practically visited all the places in Bombay with their name. 

I attended two NCC camps while in school. The camps were held in the month of December and it was the time when Delhi was coldest. That had an advantage, we would not sweat profusely in the parades and the PT and we could avoid taking a bath for the ten days of the camp. Each boy had to carry his own offwhite canvass kitbag that included all his stuff including an enamelware regulation mug and an enamelware plate. The mus was really versatile, starting with morning ablutions, drinking water or tea, for the gravy vegetable or daal in the meals. We were near about 90 cadets. The kitbags were loaded in a heap in the trucks and we clambered on to of the heap for our brief journey to the venue of the camp. In the first year, the camp was held at a site in the cantonment area. In the second year, it was held at Khanpur - which seemed far away from any civilization in 1961, the campsite was surrounded by agricultural fields. It was the same procedure - 10 boys in a tent. One of them would be designated the tent commander. In the second year camp, I was a Corporal, so I got the Tent Commander position with Manranjan Singh jointly, of Patel Nagar, who also held the Corporal's rank. The procedure was to clear the land of weeds, level it, pitch the three main masts and hammer the stakes firmly into the ground. Tie the tent securely to avoid it getting uprooted in a storm. Swab the interior with a mop to make it smooth. Tie the kerosene lantern to the center mast. Keep our holdalls in position, not opened yet. Dig a trench all around and a small mud wall about 2-3 inches high - this was to prevent crawlies as well as floodwaters from coming in case of rain. In our first camp, there was a moderate rate and most of the tents remained dry inside; but the Khanpur camp was a different story altogether. It rained almost continuously for eight days. Of the 10 tents of our school, 8 were flooded and most of the bedrolls became soggy. My tent was of the two that remained dry. We had to keep rebuilding the mud wall at any time the water would start entering any breach. 
On the ninth day, there was no rain and the sun shone brightly. A parade call was given that day. After assembling for the parade, the boys started collapsing and falling like nine-pins. They were rushed to the MI room and it was discovered that most of them had been holding on without getting rid of their poop and had developed constipation or some issue. On the last day of the camp, we were given a chicken curry dinner. Just one measly tiny piece. After we had retired after dinner, there was a message from our Flight Seargent, Shashi Bhushan, summoning us to his tent. He was quite friendly with both Manoranjan and me. When we reached there, what we see? There were two bucket fulls of chicken curry, a couple of other boys, and all gorging on it. We also had our fill until we could eat no more. Of course, next morning saw long queues at the toilets. 
As the rains washed out 7 days, the aeromodelling display as well as shooting range were canceled. 

I finished my schooling in 1962 (Class 11 - Higher Secondary) and landed up with a good first division, almost 67%, which was considered very good. I was hoping for admission in BITS Pilani and was, in fact, assured by an insider. There's many a slip between the cup and lip. I realized that I had missed the bus - the admissions were over and I had nowhere to go. With Pitaji's personal influence he managed to get me to join B.Sc. (Hons) in Delhi College after the last date of entry, so that I do not end up as a vagabond and had a place to bide my time before going for engineering after a year. Being wiser I joined BIT Mesra, in the branch of my choice - IIT Delhi could only offer me the Textile Branch that did not look inviting to me at all.

Pitaji retired in 1962, soon after I finished my school final (Higher Secondary) and he headed to Calcutta, where he had secured a job with Amin Chand Pyare Lal.

Click here to continue to My Story 7 - Reading Road & Delhi University

My Story 5 - Meri Dilli, Patel Nagar.

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We came back to Delhi around April/May 1959. It was quite a train journey - so much luggage. Although we were in a 1st class compartment with a proper reservation for all family members, still our compartment looked like the luggage carrier or a loaded truck. Dicky was also traveling with us. He was in a cage in the Guard's Coach, along with his collar and chain. At every large station or junction, it was my duty to go and meet him, take him out for a pee or same another call of nature. Feed him and then put him back once again. Although the complete coach was reserved for us, still carrying Dicky in the coach with us was not permitted in the rule book. 

The journey was quite uneventful. 

We reached Delhi Junction station around 10pm in the night. With our baggage - the only mode of conveyance that we could get was a tonga (horse-drawn carriage).  Devika's husband GK, as we used to refer to him, had found an arranged accommodation for us in East Patel Nagar (West Delhi, New Delhi). If I remember correctly, two tongas were hired to fit in all the persons as well as the luggage that was to be carried. Devi (Devika) was also traveling with us and was sitting perched on top of the heap and was holding on to our clock with both the hands. Being a fragile item, it was carried separately and without any packing. Dicky was held by his chain in the second tonga by me. It was probably a sharp turn that was executed by the horse, Devi lost her balance as she had no other hold, and literally rolled off the perch but still tightly clinging on to the clock with both hands. The tongas halted. Devi appeared unhurt, literally without even a bruise. The clock also appeared without any damage being in her embrace. The tonga wala was warned to proceed cautiously and slowly. The rest of the ride was without any other incident. 

The house of East Patel Nagar was owned by a Sikh gentleman who lived on the ground floor with his family. They were generally nice and helpful. One young boy was in the family who was almost my age and he became my friend. Our premises were on the first floor. We had a common terrace that was only used by us. The Sikh family used the courtyard downstairs for sleeping in the open in the summer months. Unlike the Lake Place house that accommodated 4 families, we were just two families in this house. Apart from the terrace, there was also a bit of an open space on the first floor also where we could sleep under the open sky. Our floor had four rooms plus a bath and kitchen, a verandah plus an open terrace on the same floor. There was a tiny room, could have been useful as a storage space. This room opened into the verandah and also had a window. It was an ideal study room and it was given to me. A study table, a chair, and a small bookshelf managed to fit in the space. 

The house was close to the market which was self-sufficient for all needs, including a post office and a PCO phone. You must remember that in 1959 home phones were rare and a luxury, even for many years after that. We got our first residential phone in 1982 in Chandigarh. Post & Telegraphs Department was the only service provider for phones in the country. In most places, there used to be a big waiting list for an individual owned phone line. Industries and Registered Companies were given a priority. The nearest bus stop was a 6-7 minute walk from the house. This was also an important feature as we all, the kids and Pitaji, needed the public transport on a regular and daily basis.

Neena and Prem joined Delhi College (near Ajmeri Gate) in Pre-medical and MA (English) respectively. Pushpa had completed her MBBS in Calcutta and joined the AIIMS for completing her house job and her MD. Subsequently, she joined the Defense Science Laboratories, Metcalfe House. I was admitted to Class 9 in Harcourt Butler School on Reading Road (now known as Mandir Marg). I was keen for Modern School at Barakhamba Road, as I had done my earlier schooling over there. Their science stream seats were full and I did not want to do arts.

Qutub Minar, New Delhi

Life settled down to a routine in Patel Nagar. I did make a just few friends in the locality. Most of my friend's circle was from my school only. Lack of means of telecommunication made us loose our previous friends very easily. As a matter of fact, Facebook coupled with other internet options have made me locate a few of my childhood friends of Belvedere and South Point School. Staying in touch has become so easy and convenient with all the multitude of social applications, mobile phones, emails, and the like.

After living in Patel Nagar for about a year, Pitaji bought an independent house in Rajouri Gardens. A single storey, four rooms, plus a store-room, Verandahs both in front and at the back. Small garden space in front as well as the back. We got the place whitewashed and repaired and moved in there within a month. At that time for going anywhere, we had to go over a level crossing near the Shadipur Depot. Bus service to Rajouri Gardens was also not that frequent. All this caused a lot of time spent in traveling almost an hour plus extra each way. Thus the parents decided to shift back to Patel Nagar, which was familiar territory. The Rajouri Garden house was rented out, and we moved to East Patel Nagar once again. This was an even better location and was closer to the market and all the other points of interest. We were bang opposite the Grand Bakery and from our first-floor verandah, we could place an order for any bakery item - for home delivery. Our favorite was their cake rusks. 

Unlike most EPN (East Patel Nagar) houses - this house was not on the usual 200 square yards plot  - it seemed much bigger. In fact, we had a huge verandah for a living room, it was quite large. A portion of it was also converted to a small clinic for Pushpa, as she wanted to start a private practice. It was like a big hall except that on the front, or the south side it did not have a wall and overlooked the market. It was so large that there were two huge columns in the hall which divided it into almost six portions. 

During our stay in this house, we once experienced quite a massive earthquake (July 1960), in the late evening and was over 5.5 on the Ritcher Scale. We were all sitting in our verandah doing our respective studies/work etc. The massive jolt literally made Neena see the verandah columns sway like crazy and she was terrified, almost in hysterics. She was so shaky and scared that Prem had to accompany her to the loo in each visit. I am sure she would have been holding her hand while going to bed or for sleep. 

The East Patel Nagar market was also a foodie’s paradise. There was a popular chaat stall that always drew a large crowd in the evenings. Its preparations were quite yummy. It was most visited for golgappas, papri chaat, aloo tikki, dahi bara, and other items. There was a family restaurant “Progressive”, it had most delicious vegetable samosas stuffed with aloo and matar and just the right amount of spices. Then we had a small non-veg dhaba that was a boon for Neena and me - could just carry home a plate of mutton curry when the food seemed bland and uninviting. There were no burgers or pizzas in the Indian scenario at this time. The closest to fast food to a burger was a bun-samosa - it's popular in most hill stations - and as the name suggests is just a bun split in the middle with a knife and a samosa is pressed in along with some chutneys. There was also a small shop where we could buy our non-veg items. Mutton used to cost around Rs 2 for a kg. It was the pre-broiler era, the table variety of broiler chicken had not invaded the Indian market. The old hens who had passed their prime laying time used to end up on the table. At times there were some partly formed eggs also within them, we would really look forward to finding them when the chickens were dressed for the table. The organized sector for poultry - broilers and eggs came much later into the scene. We had no fish in our household menu. However, Delhi’s markets (including East Patel Nagar) often had a machhi-wala who would fry the fish piece selected by you by weight from the prominent display on an aluminum foil sheet, marinated in the turmeric colored spices.

In fact it was such a foodie place that Dicky developed a sweet tooth and would be often be found missing from our house and lounging near a halwai, a sweetmeat seller. He became quite a vagabond and even started remaining with the halwai. Ultimately, the halwai adopted our vagabond and we wrote him off from our household list. Sometimes I do wonder that to what extent were we responsible for his errant behavior.

We children did not have many friends in the colony, I had a friend called Manoranjan Singh, he was also in Harcourt Butler but in the arts stream. Our common point of interest was NCC. At times we would take an evening walk together in the colony market and foodie areas.
Neena had a good friend of the college in Pre-Medical - Amita Seth. She became a family friend and used to visit our place quite often, and likewise, Neena visited them often. She was sweet and soft-spoken. 
The local colony friends became rare and distant once we moved out of Patel Nagar. 

We did not live in this house for long and we moved to a government accommodation to Reading Road (now known as Mandir Marg) in less than a year's time.

Click the link to continue to My Story 6 - Meri Dilli, Reading Road.

My Story 4 - Calcutta, Belvedere

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With the allotment of a Government Quarter in practically the poshest area of the city was indeed the best thing that could have happened to my family. It was a newly developed colony that was located in the very picturesque compound of the famous National Library. The library used to be the house of the Lieutenant Governor of Bengal during the British Raj. After the independence of the country – it was converted into a Government Library, in 1953 when it was shifted from its location at Metcalfe House, to the present location at Belvedere. It is the biggest and the best library in the country containing about 2 million books and half a million documents. It is also the second-largest public library in Asia. According to popular belief, this building was not built by the British. Azim-Us-Shaan is believed to have constructed it in 1700 A.D. After the Battle of Plassey, Vanceytart got charge of this Bhawan. He was an Italian who named this mammoth building 'Belvedierre', giving the present-day name of Belvedere to the colony. The word connotes 'the queen of beauty'. Lady Hastings was also the owner of this house for a short while. It was sold to Major Tulley in 1780. The modern-day 'Tollygunge' in Calcutta bears memoirs of Major Tulley. However, this building was put to auction after the demise of Major Tulley in 1802. In 1850, the Govt. took charge of this palatial house. Some believe that Nawab Meer Zaffar had once stayed in Belvedierre Bhawan.

The Majestic National Library

The housing made here for Central Govt. officers consisted of fourteen 3-storeyed blocks of 6 flats each. Garages were also provided, though the number of garages was about 33% of the number of flats, I guess that was about similar to the proportion of officers who actually owned cars in those days. As it is Calcutta had a fairly efficient public transport system that included double carriage trams, single as well as double-decker state transport buses, and private buses. Taxis were also in the field and were reasonably convenient because the distances were not very large. There was nothing like the present-day autorickshaws (or tuk-tuks). No tongas or horse-drawn vehicles. Though rickshaws were there - not the cycle variety but the hand-pulled rickshaws. These are attributed to a colonial hangover. They could squeeze in two adult passengers. 

Life in the colony was totally different from the paada life at Lake Place. The senior government officials were totally in a different world from the Bengali and bhadralok culture that I had been exposed to until now. In Belvedere there was a club for the Central Government Officers – having facilities for tennis, swimming, table tennis, squash, badminton, etc, and of course card tables. One could see young lasses dressed in western attires, skirts, shorts, and the like. The shortcomings of games that I felt in the school were overcome in life in Belvedere. The friend circle that I moved into consisted of only a very small percentage of Bengalis. We were literally from all over India - Punjabis, Marathis, Sindhis, UPites, MPites, Biharis, Oriyas, South Indians (includes Tamil, Kannada, Malayali, and Telegu speaking folks) Parsis, etc., strange it may sound - I do not recall any Gujratis in the colony.

Hand-Pulled Rickshaw

Our small band of about 15 boys was into all possible games. We played cricket, hockey, badminton, football, and rugby (played with a football). Tennis and squash were also available in the officers club though all youngsters did not actively get involved in that. The spoken language amongst us was English. Most of the boys were students of Calcutta Boys School or St Xaviers; the girls were mostly studying in Loretto. Neena and I continued in South Point School. A smaller size school bus was made available for the far-flung areas, it was a station wagon or equivalent to the present-day SUV. It picked us up along with about half a dozen other children, from our area, Chetla, and Alipore.

The Central Government officers Quarters Area does not seem to have changed at all over the years, the Google Map still shows it exactly as it was in the fifties with all the green spaces intact. However, some more buildings appeared to have come up in the compound of the Library. There were 3 ponds, which used to have ducks waddling in them in the fifties. I was unable to spot them in the present-day maps. They have probably been filled up to reclaim the land for some buildings or the gardens.

Belvedere - Google Image (Present Day)

At times I used to wonder where my childhood buddies Subhash and Indra might be. There was no communication from either side. We were too young and did not know about the art of letter writing. One evening I was going to a friend's house in the colony and suddenly I heard someone calling out to me, "Cuckoo". What do I see, Indra her younger sister Munni and their mom Mrs. Tahilraamani, just a few paces away. Indra and her mom, both had recognized me. Contact got renewed. I discovered that Mr. Tahilramani had also got transferred to Calcutta and presently they were staying in a rented accommodation in Hazra Road. Subsequently, they too moved to Belvedere - to Flat no. 72. We were in Flat No. 73 while we were there, we had moved out and we were back in Delhi at that time. However, contact got re-established and we have been in touch with each other to date since then.

Once we settled down in the routine life at Belvedere, it was very peaceful and satisfying. When we stayed at Lake Place, Pitaji had got deeply involved in learning yoga, so much so that within a short time he had become a teacher of yoga. Every morning he used to go to the maidan opposite the famous Victoria Memorial. About 20 to 30 followers (or his students) would also assemble there and they would be performing the Yogic Exercises. His guru was the well known Dhirendra Brahmchari, who shot to fame many years later, as he became the personal yoga trainer for Mrs. Indira Gandhi when she became the Prime Minister of the country. Once we shifted to Belvedere, going to the maidan was not convenient, because of lack of public transport on this route. So he just picked up his dari (yoga mat) one day and started going to the National Library compound for his exercises every morning. He was soon noticed by other morning walkers and was adopted by quite a handful of them as their guru, all wanting to learn yoga asanas. In 1957-58 yoga was very rare and not a household word as it is now. He never said no to anyone for joining the group and soon he had a bigger following of the residents of the area than he had at the maidan. It was totally free for anyone who cared to join in

During the vacations of the schools, Neena & I used to also go for yoga classes. I discovered that my body was quite rigid as compared to Neena's and to that of many other youngsters, and they could do many exercises with ease whereas I was either unable to do so or found them extremely difficult.  Quite a number of my circle of friends also joined in during the vacations. Recently I met a childhood friend of mine, Prakash Karve, of Belvedere, who had also joined Pitaji's classes. He lives in Pune at present. He was remembering the yoga classes of Pitaji and mentioned it as a reason for his good health even at his present age.

In our small circle of friends, we had two brothers Deepak and Pradeep Mulay. Their father was the Deputy Librarian of the National Library. Deepak was my age. On one summer afternoon, he had ventured out to the duck ponds for a bath cum swim with another friend. He fell down in the not so deep water and he got stuck in the mud, his friend panicked and ran home and informed his father, who in turn informed Mr. Mulay. By the time help arrived, it was too late. Deepak had drowned and died. He was my age. It was the first time I lost someone close to the cruel hand of death. His death affected all in our friends' circle. It was quite an unnerving experience. It took a fairly long time of a couple of years for us to get over the tragedy.
Deepak had an elder sister, Suhasini. When Bhuvan Shome was released I noticed that the female lead was Suhasini Mulay. When I saw the movie, I was sure that it was Deepak's sister. That was in 1969, about 10-11 years after the tragedy.

Another family that had become a bit closer to us was the Mehtas. There were 3 young boys, Pradeep, Sudhir, and Randhir (Pullu). Their flat was bang opposite our flat - on the other side of the colony road. They also had a dog, a Doberman, which was very ferocious and all the dogs and the dog owners of the colony were terrified of him. Once the dog attacked a cousin of theirs who was visiting them and hurt her quite severely. After that, the colony folks put their foot down and the dog had to be given away. Sudhir was a dog lover. He now adopted a white she-dog and named her Rani. Things were not going right for the little puppy, who was now just a couple of months old. One day Sudhir fell on her while playing and she got internal injuries and died in a couple of days after the incident. The Mehtas decided not to keep a dog after that.

We often had screams and hysterics because of the girlie nature of the crowd at our house. Once a tiger moth had entered our house, my excited exclamation, "Moth has come to our room!" - was interpreted as "maut" which means death. I don't recall who all screamed but Mrs. Mehta came running to our flat to check on us.
Do you know the basic difference between a moth and a butterfly? Both can be very colorful. When a moth sits, its wings are spread and a butterfly sits with its wings folded.

Prem and Pushpa were also fond of Planchette - a practice of dabbling with the para natural. You summon Mr. Planchette and subsequently ask for the spirit of a particular dead person. At times, any random spirit could make its presence felt and it was rumored that such self inviting spirits enjoyed human contact and were had to get to leave when requested. One day the spirit of the "monkey's paw" (click here to know the story) made an appearance and it was followed by screams and Mrs. Mehta running across the road to our place. In retrospect, it seemed quite delightful and humorous.

Another couple of friends that we made at the time and who are still in touch were Pinaki Dutt-Roy, Samaresh Chatterjee. Pinaki is working freelance as a sound engineer in London, got located on Google. I do meet hin when I visit London for visiting my daughter Chaitali. Samaresh was found by a common friend, he stays in Delhi, not too far, and often meets up in our morning walks.

I have talked about my love for animals as pets. I got the opportunity to adopt a puppy very soon. There was an Anglo-Indian family in our colony who had two pets, one female dog and one cat. Surprisingly, they used to co-exist and had grown up together. Their dog had a litter and the pups were available for adoption. I went and met the lady and she interviewed me thoroughly before handing me a brown male pup. He was between 3 and 4 weeks old. We named him "Dicky".

Belvedere was sandwiched between Belvedere Road (on the east) and Alipore Road (on the west). In the north, the National Library compound's gate opened near the main gate of the Calcutta Zoological Gardens. This was one of the better zoos of the country in terms of number and variety of animals. The other entrance to the Zoo was near Kidderpore. We could frequently hear the roars of the big cats very clearly in our houses, especially in the silence of the night.
On the south of the colony, we had the Horticultural Garden - where Mataji and Neena were regulars in their morning walk. The garden was a paradise for botanists and lovers of plants. The garden also had two trees that were known as pagla trees (click for more info). The leaves appeared to have been cut in individual contours - all appearing different,  Neena was a lazy child (around 14  years old, at the time) and never liked to wake up early. She would go for the walk and promptly go back to sleep after the walk. In fact, Neena used to complete the morning walk with her eyes half-closed. After coming back from the walk Mataji would sit down for her morning puja and Neena would be in bed again, sounds crazy - I often spotted her sleeping while standing near the bathroom door. Before sitting at the puja Mataji used wooden slippers, khadaon, which made a clickety sound when she got up after the puja. The moment Neena would hear the sound of the khadaon, she would straightaway bolt to the bathroom. Once Dicky was trying to play with Mataji while she was at the puja, to shoo him away she picked up the khadaon and tapped it on the floor. I am not sure whether Dicky got shooed away or not, but we also saw Neena bolting to the bathroom.

Just across the Alipore Road, that was on the west of the colony, brought us to the gate cum check-post of an army establishment called Command Hospital. It was a very huge area the other end going to the Diamond Harbour Road as one went further west. It housed barracks, hospitals, Kendriya Vidyalaya, CSD Canteen, Gurudwara, Temple, etc. The premises is an army area even at present. Our gang of young boys had made friends with the guards that manned the gate on the Alipore Road. So on one Sunday, the guard invited us for sharing the langar, the community lunch at the Gurudwara. We were a happy and a bold lot and graciously accepted the invitation and enjoyed the meal. The guards became our cronies and invariably we would go to chit-chat with them.

Once we had a visitor from Delhi, one Captain Prem Varma. He was the brother of Mr. Chandra Prakash Varma - a very close family friend. He was addressed as mamaji (maternal uncle) by us(children). Capt. Varma had been posted to this Command Hospital area for temporary duty. He was received very cordially by Mataji & Pitaji. His visit just preceded my birthday that was being celebrated in a week's time. He was also invited to attend while going that day he asked mm my choice of a gift. He wanted to know between two alternatives, one being an airgun (have forgotten what was the other). I happily chose the airgun. On my birthday he promptly appeared with a DIANA airgun along with a box of 100 lead pellets. I was absolutely ecstatic. This airgun was with me for many years and I had developed into a very good shot. I could hit a match stick at nearly 30 yards. When my son Anurag was about a year old he was staying with Varsha's parents at the Netaji Nagar Government flat, the airgun was decorating the wall near the entrance door of the flat - that is roughly after 16 years of it having been acquired by me. Neena was also taught by me in the use of the airgun and while she was studying in Lady Hardinge Medical College, a few years later, she drove the airgun shooting stallholders at a fete' that was held there, into near bankruptcy by winning all the prizes. They had to literally beg her not to try for more. Just a corollary, saw Yasmin Daji from very close quarters in the fete' - that was in the same year in which she became Miss India and Miss Universe. She was still studying for MBBS in the college at the time.

Life in Belvedere had many hues and there are many memories of incidents that van be remembered for posterity.

The National Library compound had a fair number of mango tres, which used to yield a large number of mangoes. The area had a few watchmen to look out for children like us to protect the mango trees from our stone and catapults, from ruining the crop of the fruit that would have found the way to the Librarian's house. As a matter of fact, we used to gather enough stock of raw mangoes to make an endless supply of achaar (pickle) for the next one year, and aam-panna for our individual households, to last out the summer. I even recall storing the raw mangoes in the hay to ripen them successfully.

Once I was on a prowl with friends and armed with my airgun in the library area when we spotted a snake coiled and partly hidden in the roots of a large tree. I never liked to kill birds, I thought this is a good shikar. I pumped 5 pellets into the portion of its body that was visible. The head was hidden in the roots. Hearing the shots the watchman on duty came on the double. Ultimately the snake was pulled out but his lathi and bashed on the head to strike the death blow. When Mataji came to know that I had killed a snake, all hell broke loose.
"Your grandmother (daadi) would feed snake milk if it made an appearance in the house. We are Nagpal (meaning snake keeper or protector) and we have to protect the snakes and not kill them," I was admonished and made to do penance the following day by remaining locked in the house, reading a religious text.

In the Metro cinema on Chowringhee, we used to have a special show of children's movies or cartoons on Sunday mornings. We, meaning me and friends, used to attend most of them and enjoy clean healthy fun. The tickets were also on a reduced rate and were probably less than a rupee for the show.

On the 15th of August, our friend circle decided to have a party on one of the terraces of the flats. It was going to be a dinner with each person in the group was required to bring one special or favorite dish of the family. If I remember correctly I had taken Punjabi Chhole. It was the first time I got to taste Lobster. Pinaki's mom had prepared lobster curry for us. It was delicious and very hot. It was many years later that I got to taste lobster again, with our son, in the USA.

Once there was a test match in Eden Gardens, It was India vs West Indies. We kids decided to go for that. Getting tickets was out of the question. I recall that we climbed on the roof of the All India Radio building which was in the same vicinity and watched whatever we could see of the match from there. India team got a follow on after West Indies scored 614 runs. Pankaj Roy - our opener gave a miserable performance with 11+duck in the two innings. The match finished in less than 3-1/2 days. We even lost the series 3-0.

Our colony had a massive tree near its second gate on Alipore Road. The tree had a very interesting feature that almost made a natural machan, about 10-12 feet from the ground, by an unnatural formation of its branches. How could it remain hidden from our natural explore instincts! We started using it for a treetop picnics. The flat area on the tree could comfortably seat four youngsters with their hampers.

On the north side of the library, building was located a huge green lawn area that doubled as a playfield for hockey and cricket areas. On its west corner of this green, there was a cluster of banyan tree(s) that had money plants growing wild over it with leaves going up to 1-1/2 to 2 feet size. One typical branch came down in a majestic curve just about 3 to 4 feet above the ground, which could not only seat 7-8 of us swaying gently but also bear to take up our load. That was the favorite spot of the batsmen waiting to go on the crease.

Once granny (Pitaji's mother) had come to Calcutta. She was around the age of 80. After a few days, she developed serious diarrhea/dysentery, and being frail and delicate at her age, we were all very concerned. She had to be taken to hospital and was admitted to the R G Kar Hospital. Mataji was almost in a panic, she kept praying that she should recover and not succumb to her illness in our house. Else she would get branded the evil bahu. A few days in the hospital helped her to a full recovery, much to everyone's relief.

All good things also come to an end. Pitaji got transferred and we moved to Delhi in April 1959.

I shall continue the narrative in My Story 5 - Meri Dilli, Patel Nagar. Click here to continue.

My Story 3 - Calcutta, South Point School

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Neena and I had been admitted to South Point School in Garihat Area, in Ballygunge, in class 7 and 5 respectively. At the time we joined South Point - it was a relatively new school with a strength of only about 300 students. It had been started just over a year ago. It was administered and run very well. English medium and coeducational; one could avoid having to learn Bengali, we could choose Bengali or Hindi as the extra language, although Sanskrit was taught there as a compulsory subject. Thus the school suited us very well as transfer students from Delhi, it was also at a reasonable distance from Lake Place, just about 3 kilometers. We had a school bus service, so it was also very convenient. Pushpa had got admission for the MBBS course at the Calcutta National Medical College in the previous year itself, as per her heart's desire. Prem had finished her Senior Cambridge before we moved to Calcutta and she got admission into the Ashutosh College for persuing her under-graduate course for her English Litterature, in which she ultimately did her M.A. & Ph.D. 

Victoria Memorial, Calcutta

In spite of the fact that the school was just over a year old, it was well managed and we were a happy lot. It was strict in discipline yet maintained a friendly atmosphere with the students. Ii was a fairly small premises having a playfield that was a wee bit smaller than the area required for a football field. It seemed quite enough for most of the needs of the school. The administrative block was the size of a modest bungalow. Many of the classrooms were constructed with cement sheet walls, they were well maintained and did give a good feeling because of the newness. We had a good interesting faculty and many of our teachers were involved with the well known CLT (Children's Little Theatre) group who excelled in stage plays. They were very well known for their Shakespearean plays. Fantastic stage dresses, excellent lighting, makeup, direction - all were considered the best in the Calcutta theatre networks. The most famous name was that of Utpal Dutt, who not only made a mark on the Bengali Stage and Bengali movies but also excelled in the Hindi Bollywood cinema in the later years. While Neena and I were studying in South Point, he had already created and proved his histrionics on the Bengali Stage and Cinema. We had quite a handful of other teachers in South Point, who did not just act on the stage but also excelled in many aspects of the theatre, viz., makeup, stage lighting, dialogue delivery, etc. I still recall quite a few names - Mr. Chatterjee (PT & Games), Mr. Sen, Mr. Bannerjee (Fine Arts).

I remember I had gone to school one day without completing my homework for the Maths class. It was a fairly common practice to skip doing the homework with some lame excuse. No action was taken normally, except a reprimand. Today the maths teacher became strict - no excuse or story would be heard. We were six of us who had not done the homework. He got dunces' caps made for us and we were paraded and taken to all the classrooms to be shamed. When we reached Neena's class I started sobbing. I was terribly ashamed. She showed her kind nature and did not tell our parents about my humiliation.

Mr. Utpal Dutt had unique characteristics very much of his own and without compare. He used to teach us the Queen's English. He not only had mastery of the language but he also made his classes very interesting with his histrionics. He was a die-hard Marxist as far as I can recall. He had quite a loud and booming voice. His hallmark was a thick cigar that was always with him, matched his personality. While teaching his class, he was always with his cigar and he easily spent 10% of his time lighting the damn thing with a match, he never used a lighter. I think he used to think out his next step or direction while lighting his cheroot.
Another catchphrase of Utpal Dutt is illustrated here.
English has many anomalies that come up while teaching language and grammar. When an anomaly would rear its head Mr. Dutt would say in his booming voice, "BECAUSE....." and the entire class would respond in unison,"...ENGLISH IS A MAD LANGUAGE!"
All these little quirks, if you like to call them that, made him an interesting and memorable teacher. His historic cigar was always there even in his Hindi movies, starting with "Shakespeare Wallah" - his debut on the screen is lighting his cigar by a blow torch, he is busy doing some welding work. His most popular Hindi movie was Bhuvan Shome, a non-commercial film that went on to win three National Film Awards, including the one of Best Actor, for him. He is no longer with us except in our memories. He died in 1993 at the age of 64.

The deficiency of a big playfield got highlighted very cruelly during a football match with St Lawrence School. They had very huge premises, possibly 8-10 times ours. The match was held in their football ground. In spite of a valiant fight we were down by a dozen goals - the final tally was 12-NIL. A fairly large contingent of two busloads of students had gone to cheer our team. We were all so excited while we were going with slogans and cheers of an anticipated and misplaced victory. In the return journey, everyone was totally silent, you could hear a pin drop.

Like any other school of that time, we had our share of street vendors at our gate. I developed an insatiable urge and taste for the historic Orange Bar (of Magnolia), and also a digestive pudia of a gooie chooran. I also loved an occasional daab (tender green coconut) for its water as well as a layer of soft and tender coconut that had started forming within the shell. The vendor would split open the fruit with his hasiya a heavy sickle-like tool, and scoop out the yummy still soft and tender fruit from its insides, deposit it one half of the shell of the nut and hand it over as the 'bonus' - after all only the water had been paid for.

In 1957, the Naiya Paisa was introduced. India had overtaken many of the advanced Western Nations in adopting the CGS (and the decimal) system. The earlier rupee had 16 annas, Each anna has 4 paisas. Smaller denominations of paisa, viz., dhela and pai, had already been discontinued. Now we had coins of 1, 2, 5, 25, 50 and 100 (1 rupee) paisa. One Anna became equivalent of 6-1/4 paise; the earlier coins of 1 paisa (old), 2 paisa, 1 anna, 2 annas, 4 annas 8 annas were gradually withdrawn from the system. Initially, a lot of confusion prevailed but we gradually got used to the new system. We stopped referring to the Naiya Paisa as such and it was replaced by calling it Paisa only. Gradually miles were replaced by kilometers and yards by meters; degree Fahrenheit by degree Centigrade or Celcius. But we still live in a dual system. Body temperature is still Fahrenheit, though the weather is in Celcius, land measurements are still in square yards in many places.

The lack of playing fields in the school did leave me with a little setback as far as my sporting abilities were concerned. I was an outdoor person by nature and I did get my exercise in the improvised football field in the empty plot by the side of our Lake Place residence, but that somehow could never help me become a good footballer nor allow me to learn the finer aspects of the game.

Another change happened for the better in 1957. Pitaji was allotted government accommodation in a beautifully developed new colony within the huge compound of the famous National Library. 84 flats were constructed for the Central Government Officers in the area they called Belvedere, in fourteen 3 storeyed blocks. It was not only a modern and posh locality with lots of greenery and open spaces. Proper garages for parking the cars were also made, although owning a car was not all that common at the time. Thus we shifted to a new and totally different environment from the paada culture.

I shall continue the narrative in My Story 4 - Calcutta, Belvedere. Click here to continue.