SHUBHO, A Story of Unparalleled Friendship
SUBHO (Part-1)
I wasted the entire morning trying to recover from a kind of viral fever. During lunch, I started talking with my elder daughter. I talked about our visit last night to a relative’s and his son, who happens to be a Director of Cognizant now and how refined he has been all through. One thing led to another then Chandan Guha, my late nephew, cropped up in our lunchtalk.
I told my daughter, Akanksha, that one late afternoon Chandan took me outside. We were standing near 39 Deblane, a house opposite, when Chandan broke into a song :
Ei to hethai, kunjo chhayai
Swapno madhur mohe,
Ei jibane je kata din pabo
Tomai amai hense khele
Katiye jabo dohe,
Swapno madhur mohey……
(It’s here in this shady garden, we’ll spend the few days we have, lost in wonderful dreams. We two will have fun and frolic, lost in wonderful dreams.)
Now, Chandan Guha was undoubtedly, the most brilliant person I’ve seen in my life. And he was a brilliant student as well. He secured the 24th rank in Madhyamik from South Point. He was brilliant in Maths and all the other subjects. He must have scored over 90% in HS as well. Then, he pursued an engineering course in Electronics from JU. He secured the First Class Second position in the B.Tech exam!
But wait, wait, dear readers. If you think that this book on Friends has this chapter written about Chandan Guha, then you are very mistaken. Chandan was a nephew first, then he was a friend. Let me also tell you in this connection, dear Reader, that despite Chandan’s apparent capability of mingling with anyone irrespective of her/his age, caste or religion, I found him not all that easy to grasp. That’s why “Eito hethai, kunjo chhayai..” still remains an enigma for me.
I was singing this song, remembering Chandan, when another song found its way to my lips :
Kato dur choley elam,
Kato Katha bhulay gelam.
Tabu Keno chhayar maton
Chalo amar sathi hoye?
( Far have I come, forgotten so many words. Even then, why do you follow me as a shadow?)
On a gloomy morning, another nephew of mine, was leading me in their house, to one of those rooms downstairs.
“Bappa, tokey ekta gan shonabo.” (Let me play a song for you, Bappa)
This nephew of mine WAS/ IS/ and WILL always Be a die-hard Lata Mangeshkar fan. But that morning, he played that Kumar Sanu song for me. Though I liked the song, I didn’t think much about its meaning.
I have decided to write about this nephew of mine, who, by his sheer hard work, rose to the position of a District Magistrate ( though I must admit that I heard it from others. He never ever mentioned his posts or positions to me. No use either because I told his mother, my eldest sister that even if he rose to be the PM of India, he would never be my competitor.)
Anyway, this is about him, SHUBHO. It is about him as he was more of a friend to me during my youth, than a nephew.
My earliest recollection of Shubho is not a pleasant one. I have even forgotten those early days we spent in their house at Jiaganj. But I remember that most of his friends were my friends as well. They all addressed me as ‘Mama’ as I was Subho’s mama. Shubho would take me to his friends’ places often. I still remember the Kali Puja Night we three, Shubho, Dama (a Police Officer at Lal Bazar now) and I spent quite late on the roof of Dama’s house under the starry night, talking about everything under the sun while the Puja was going on downstairs.
Shubho and I have shared some special kind of Friendship. When Shubho started staying at Baghajatin near Kolkata while pursuing his L.Lb Degree, I would drop by, wake him up and we two would hit the roads. Very often we visited one of our relatives at Nagtala, Garia.
One lazy afternoon, as soon as Subho and I stepped inside our Kaka’s house, the daughters talked about a girl, who stayed nearby.
“Okay Tora line marar chesta koris na. O sei rakam meyei noi…” Don’t try to flirt with her. She is not that type. My cousins told us.
Now, we were young in those days and young blood loves to accept challenge.
“You bet? We will bring this beauty to your house within the next half hour.” One of us told them. With Kakima’s permission, we left for the girl’s house.
As I knocked on the door, a middle-aged lady opened it.
“Masima. Ami Putu-Rinader jyathtuto Bhai ar oh amar bhagne. Amra apnar meye SONAr samparke anek shunechhi, Tai alap korte elam..” ( Aunty, I am Putu-Rina’s cousin and [pointing to Shubho] he is my nephew. We’ve heard a great deal about your daughter, SONA, from them. That’s why we are here today to make friends with her.)
We spent the next few minutes at hers before requesting her to let us take SONA with us to our Kaka’s.
My cousins, it goes without saying, were very impressed. That evening turned out to be one of the most memorable ones in our lives. SONA, who was a trained singer, sang some of the most exquisite Bengali songs sung by Lata Mangeshkar, one after another at our request. If one song stands out in my mind even today, it is :
Akash Pradip jwali/ durer tarar paney cheye.
Amar nayan duti shudhui tomary chahey
Byathar badoley jain chheye…
(I light the night lamp, keeping my eyes on the far-flung stars. But they search for nothing else save you, as they get teary by the clouds of pain.)
That evening not only started a new friendship but strengthened my friendship with Shubho.
To be continued..
