THE DAILY OBSERVER-(M-34)

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-(M-34)😎

Sat 9 Jan 2021

        OH KOLKATA !

Good morning everyone. While the last issue dealt with the beginning stages of my not-so-illustrious career saga, this one deals with the curtains-down stage.

         The other day, drowsily basking in the warmth of all the kindness and affection being showered on me, my hand instinctively reached out for that all-comforting liquid nourishment., the elixir, restorer of tissues.That brought me back rudely to my senses and i was wide awake in a flash. Took me back to that fateful day in 2016 when i was discharged  from Apollo Hospital, Kolkata on Dec 25. A cheerful broad smile was still plastered on my face when Dr. Roy informed me that my drinking and smoking days may be considered to be over. "OK Doc , " i answered, still groping for the silver lining in that dark cloud, "For how long would that be? "  There followed the  chilling pronouncement  that this was virtually a life sentence. Talk of an excellent fun-filled life being smashed to smithereens in a second. A daily evening routine so painstakingly built up and religiously observed over the years was being so callously brought to a halt ! "But what about all those poor cigarette and liquor manufacturers losing a steady customer, Doc ? Not to talk of the loss of revenue to the State and the effects thereupon on the lives of the poor and needy multitudes? " Despite these queries being accompanied by a sharp look and uttered rather sarcastically, the doctor was unmoved and stood firm. That particular chapter of my life was closed for good ( pun not intended), said the great man. Whatever little hope i had that my better half would lend a sympathetic ear and help me out in that hour of need was dashed the minute the ambulance reached home.The entire stock of liquor and tobbaco including my proud and painstaking collection of assorted hookahs and pipes had vanished. All i could do was to shake my brand new metal walker in a menacing way and curse under my breath. Nothing worked .The anger was snubbed and the pleading looks were ignored. Looked like there was nothing left to look forward to in life. It still pains even to talk of that fateful day.Let's turn towards better things.

           Not long after i joined duty in the City of Joy sometime on 01 Apr 2015  i realised there were two sides to it, the other one being the Black Hole of Kolkata. The date i joined itself turns out to be rather significant in hindsight, though  at that time i had paid scant attention. What happened soon after was definitely a sign of things to come. 

       One of my first actions on arrival at this grand old city was to make a serious attempt at getting to know the Bhadralok there. A friend in Chennai had helpfully given me the phone number of a gentleman who was a direct descendant of the ertswhile Royal family of a Northeastern State. On contacting him, i was invited to his place for dinner. After a long drive, i reached the modified palace of a residence after some difficulty in locating it. The road on which this former palace was situated would be the last  where one would expect it to be. i was given a warm welcome after i entered the hall through a passage with ivory on both sides providing a kind of arched walk-way. After loads of excellent Scotch, dinner was served .Here came the rub - first of all fish is not something i am overly fond of. Still, after being sufficiently warmed up with the correct appetizer, i do not mind nibbling at fish in some form or the other. I found myself staring at a huge fish-head on my dinner plate. So far,so good. Me staring at a fish-head on my plate is not too bad,but no amount of whiskey can make me even pretend to enjoy the spectacle of a fish staring out at me from the plate, that too a rather large- sized one with huge popping eyes ! Unsettling, definitely, to say the least. But the way this was served with so much love and affection as a special dish in honour of the guest, it would have been rude not to accept. The rest of the night was spent between me pretending to relish it on one hand, while politely and firmly seeing to it that there was no chance whatsoever of a second helping finding its way on to my plate on the other.Reaching home well past midnight, i dropped into bed fully dressed, hoping for the best.

        Needless, to say ,  the next morning found me saddled with the mother of all hangovers, struggling hard to stop the world whirling around me. Later,I was sitting in the balcony on the third floor of my office where i had my temporary residence in the guest-room, trying to smoke away the memories of the staring fish. Matters came to a head when i almost fell off the steel chair on which i was sitting. That was too much, i felt.There was only one remedy in such a situation. The time-tested remedy was to hit the nearest bar and get outside of a couple of cold beers . Stepping out of the office,i noticed a crowd collected outside the Airport Authority building on the other side of the road but paid scant attention to it..  Reaching a roadside bar about a kilometer away, i was surprised to find it totally empty and the entire staff gathered outside. I entered and shouted out for a beer.Guys slowly started trickling in and in answer to my puzzled looks, one of them pointed to the TV Screen on the wall. A local channel was announcing that some time back there had been a severe earthquake in Nepal, tremors of which had been felt in the City of Joy..The crowd collected outside the Airports Authority office that i had noticed on my way  was being shown on screen.All the seemingly mysterioius events since the time i woke up had little to do with my hangover. The earth had actually been shaking.Sign of things to come ? Oh, Kolkata ! This was only the beginning of a series of colourful bhalo-bhasha episodes at the fag end of my official life.

THE DAILY OBSERVER-(60)

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-60😎

Sun 03 Jan 2021

  THE CHILD WE LEFT BEHIND

          That special time of the year is here once again !

*एक उम्र वो थी कि जादू में भी यक़ीन था*

*एक उम्र ये है कि हक़ीक़त पर भी शक़ है*

Thus posted Tau Sirohi on Dec 30.

           What happened in the years intervening between the above two lines that made us lose our belief in a world full of magic and mystery ? Where did that child in us vanish?

JC's refreshing snaps of Tara Devi Mandir near Shimla yesterday brought about memories of a bygone era. There's a subtle difference between wallowing in the past and  recalling the charm of days gone by.But then, what is a lfe without some tight-rope walking? 

So here goes :

The very sound of the name " Tara Devi " switches on the memory mode.I hunted out an old photo of my first school to show you all what i mean when i say - a world of magic.

   My first school was Loreto Convent Tara Hall. The very sight of it is sheer magic, as is evident from the photo above.This is where I spent a year each in Kindergarten and Class-I . The smell of the varnished wooden panelling and fresh paint on the  bright pastel- coloured small chairs and desks still lingers. I had been granted admission in this prestigious institution after having correctly answered - " My name is Sarath Chandar Srinivas " ( all the Englsh in my repertoire ), in reply to the poser flung at me in the interview. That was all- the entire syllabus and content of the entrance test. I do remember feeling that it was rather unfair on my parents' part to have handicapped me with such a long tongue- twister of a label. When compared to my other classmates, like, say Rohit Gupta or Raja Puri, my name was more like an entire book.It is not at all easy to force out those words through parched lips when facing an Irish nun in the hallowed atmosphere of a convent for the first time in life, believe me.But then again, i was yet to come across monickers of the likes of Somayajulu Srinivasa Rao or, even "better", Tarrigopala Venkatagiri Kothandarama Padmanabha Dutt. Then came the shocker that we were to speak only in English while in school, even to each other. Anyone who spoke Hindi was to be reported, and there were enough goody-two-shoes around, espescially girls, who were readily waiting for such lpportunities. My entire English vocabulary being restricted to that one sentence, i naturally adopted a foreign policy of maintaining complete silence all the time, unless compelled to do otherwise under dire circs. Maybe that is why at the end of the year, i was pleasantly surprised to be awarded a prize for "Good Conduct "  at the Prize Distribution Ceremony. But on hindsight, i wonder if it is only due to the same reason that i generally became known as a " quiet person " later on in life. Being a " quiet and good boy" all the time became the challenge of a life-time:! Sister Jones was our Class Teacher and taught us everything except for music and PT.It did not take very long for my knowledge of English to extend to the prayers- Our father, who art in Heaven ………. and other pieces of vital knowledge like - Yellow, yellow- dirty fellow and Red, red- Jesus in your bed.

        There was this jolly buxom,( if buxom is the word i am looking for) Padre in his white cassock who could be spotted walking down everyday to the school from the Catholic Club, where he presumably resided. We only knew him as - Father. Every now and then, someone would proudly show off a holy picture or small metal medallion gifted to him or her by the Father. It was said that if you greeted him properly and talked to him nicely, answering any questions he asked, you would be gifted a picture, medallion or a crucifix ( we called that Jesus Cross) in that order of merit respectively.. One's "status" depended to a large extent on the number of such mementoes in posession.I do remember managing to get a few holy pictures and medallions off him, but the Jesus Cross i aimed for eluded me. I desired it badly because most of us strongly believed that one could 

"do magic " with it. Still, holy pictures and medallions were also said to keep trouble away. Alternatively, one kept looking carefully for a stick which might turn out to be a magic wand.Small collections of potential magic wands and magic stones were periodically cleared out at home by Mom to the accompaniment of vociferous protests. Then there were the horse chestnuts we called "gelas". They came in various attractive sizes and shapes. They were fondly picked up on the way back from school, adopted as "friendies" and given pet names.The power of their magic depended on how long they survived being kicked along the road without rolling out of reach. By the way, kicking around of anything was a Strictly Prohibited activity, as it lead to gaping mouths in the toes of our shoes, but who cared ? It was also said that given the proper conditions, a colourful bird would hatch out of a gela. I had a whole collection of these stored in metal tins with the lids sealed with candle wax, which was also one of ways to get a good crop of birds according to folklore. Each time someone came out with the latest formula for the hatching of a bird, i would try it out in all sincerity, only to be disappointed yet again. It took ages to realise that the fault lay not in the process adopted but in the very basic concept of a bird hatching out of a gela.There were the horse- shoes found on the way. If the two ends pointed towards you, it was good luck. If not, we looked for two mynahs to be able to say- two for joy and enjoy a good day.

Invariably hungry at the end of the day, my friend Kanwaljit and i would happily take a long uphill detour on the way back from school to the Kali Bari Mandir. Putting on our most devout looks, we would circambulate the diety with golded hands, pretending to be laest botheref about the Prasad which the kindly Panditji gave us, On his part , Panditji also pretended that he did not recognise us as the  regulars.we were.

Thst's all for the moment.

Ending with this gem from GC PC Jha :-

            मेरा वज़ूद अहम है।

             ये मेरा सबसे बड़ा वहम है

Have a great first Sunday of 2021.

THE DAILY OBSERVER-59

😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-59😎

SAT 02 JAN 2021

A PRAYER TO BEGIN THE NEW YEAR ; 

-https://www.facebook.com/gita.kumar.79/videos/1042573049094374/?sfnsn=scwshwa