Chapter – 1
Chapter – 1(The Foundation of Truth and Honesty) :
I do not remember how I turned out to be the worst student of such an esteemed university. When I travel back in time, I see myself in a primary school, as an above average student. I was by no means one of the brightest students though. The only thing I remember of that school, Sarada Sishu Bidya Vawan, is our class teacher, Anjalidi. She was a very popular teacher and pulling me closer to her, she would make me sit on her lap and often ask me to sing whenever she had the chance.
When I got admitted in Entally Academy, the best local school in the early 70s, I can honestly say with a fair amount of modesty that I proved to be one of the better students of the school. All my brothers studied in that school and later on found their destined places in and around Calcutta or even abroad. The elder brother next to me, was the school topper in those days and my family reputation also played its part in keeping me in the limelight from the start. If my memory serves me right, I was a topper in Bengali, History and Geography all along, but my performance in Mathematics and English left much to be desired.
All my teachers were exceedingly fond of me. To name a few, Mr.Ganesh Maity, my Bengali teacher; Mr.Rabin Bhattacharyya, who taught us History and was also the NCC ( National Cadet Course) Coordinator; Mr. Souren Banik, the Geography teacher and a host of other teachers. Talking about Mr.Banik, I am reminded all on a sudden how he conducted a quiz contest once to award a copy of the Geography textbook to the winner, the year there was an acute shortage of the book and how I went on to win that coveted book eventually!
The bonding of the Teacher and the taught in those days is now a matter of some folklore and I consider myself extremely lucky to be in their close proximity, association and guidance. I also had a private tutor by the time I was in class nine. One Mr.Prasanta (I am sorry I have forgotten his surname). My sister, Tapasi and I were taught by him and he used to think quite highly of me. He even assured my late father that I would not get less than Letter Marks (80%) in the Board Exam. It is not his fault that I did not even get half the percentage in the exam. He was a bright student himself, pursuing Honours in Mathematics at MAC ( Maulana Azad College), a reputed government college in Calcutta. Inspite of having secured a meagre 47.8% in the exam, I passed out of my school as one of the top five students of the year of 1977!
What will stay afresh in my mind for a long time was the day I won the Poetry Recitation Contest representing my school, held at Sur Fridge Hall ( I may be wrong about the spelling), by courtesy of my Bengali teacher, late Pranab Roy. Sir selected ‘Prashna’ (The Question) by Tagore, the poem he wanted me to recite and would spend hours on the poem with me inorder to teach me the intricacies and subtleties of reciting a poem before the contest. Right at this moment I can recall his persona, sitting in the first floor staff room, vehemently shaking his head, when I failed to recite the lines to his heart’s content:
“Amije dekhinu tarun balak unmad hoei chute/Ki jantronai mareche pathare nishfal matha khute …..” ( Oh! How I have seen the young man running like a lunatic, breaking his head against the stone in utter misery and frustration!)
Though I was too young to make much of the poem, I could fathom the pain in his voice, when he recited the poem to drive home the anguish of the young man to me. I won the contest and my close friend, Deepak Dhar won the second prize, having recited poignantly another of Tagore’s classic earlier. I also remember how Pranab Babu called me in the staff room the day Kazi Najrul Islam, the national poet of Bangladesh and a famous son of Bengal as well, passed away and asked me to deliver the obituary verbally, to my great surprise! Sir groomed me within half an hour and the credit of the applause, after I had delivered the speech in the enclosed courtyard of the school, ought to have been all his.
The journey from Entally Academy to MAC, was not at all smooth. As the famed Presidency College did not introduce the HS course in the late 70s, MAC along with St.Xavier’s College, Calcutta, was considered the college to vie for. In consultation with my late father, I decided to opt for the Commerce Stream, a mistake considering my inclination towards Arts! I enjoyed the language classes very much as the students across all streams, attended them. In due course of time, I made friends with Bappaditya, one of the toppers of our time; Sushnato, who at one time I thought, would be the next CM of Bengal; Saugata Bhattacharyya, who is a doctor now and resides in our locality, and a host of other talented and promising students.
The man who taught us Accountancy and business Organization, was one Shankar Babu ( again I fail to call up his surname). I came to learn something about his faith in me from my sister, who was also teaching at the college at that time, after her long stint with Darjeeling Government College. Once while the college exam was going on, I was the only student to take the exam in one of those big halls on the ground floor of the college. I was sitting on the front bench with the Teacher’s table at a handshaking distance in the middle. Shankar Babu left for some personal errands soon afterwards, leaving me all forlorn and at the mercy of the shadowy walls for company! When my sister met him on the way and wondered aloud her surprise at my being left like that, Sir very calmly responded that even if the book was left open on my desk, the thought of copying from it would never occur to me. Such conviction and faith of the teachers in me, went a long way into making me a life-long votary of Honesty and Truthfulness.
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