Good Samaritan ? (Concluding Part)

“Hello?” my mother answered the phone with a tired and anxious voice with all the drama happening in the morning.
“Thamma (Grandma), Rini here! How are you? What has happened? Your voice is sounding so tired? Baba was supposed to come to you today. Has he arrived?” said Rini, my daughter, from USA in one breath.

Rini and I are best friends. After I lost my wife in 1998, misunderstanding cropped up between us for sometime. It, however, got resolved with the passage of time and when we could appreciate each other’s grief. Now I am having the dual responsibility of being her father and mother and she is my darling daughter. We are friend, philosopher and guide to each other. We share all our secrets which might have bearing on each other, skipping the ones which are mostly irrelevant. Finding me behaving like an unguided missile, Rini even tried to arrange a match for me and finally gave up when she found me absolutely unmarriageable.

“Rini, I am OK. Just now I got a phone call from Bapi that he has landed in Kolkata and coming home. One Kashmiri girl is also coming with him” conveyed my mother.
“Whaaat? Baba never told me anything about any Kashmiri girl? When did this happen?” Rini was more bothered about receiving the information via her grandma than the information itself.
“I hope things are really not that serious. Bapi apparently met her to-day at Delhi airport. She was going to Bangladesh via Kolkata. Bapi is bringing her home since she is all alone and her flight to Bangladesh is later in the evening” assured my mother banking on her residual confidence in me.
“Knowing my father, it sounds plausible. Let me get the information directly from the horse’s mouth. Don’t worry Thamma, I will take care” assured Rini though not very confident herself.

My mobile started ringing and seeing Rini’s name I was elated.
“Hello! Rini sona (Bengali equivalent of darling) how are you? I am already in Kolkata and driving down” I said with all the sweetness in my voice.
“Is she there with you? Say it in Bengali.” Rini’s voice was cold as steel.
“Yes! Farzana also knows Bengali” I wanted to clarify.
Hearing her name Farzana also turned towards me.
“Oh! What a coincidence! If it is at all a coincidence in the first place” Rini was mimicking. “Anyway, just answer me in Yes or NO. Is she good looking?” added Rini with expectation in her voice.
“Yes!”
“Wonderful! I knew you will never make a wrong selection!” Rini was mocking. “Is she above fifty?” she added, trying to discard any further possibilities.
“No!”
“Above forty?”
“No!”
“Above thirty?”
“No!”
“Above twenty?”
“Yes! You are correct”.
“Thank GOD, you have not picked up a teenager!” replied Rini sardonically. “Anyway, I hope there is nothing between two of you, otherwise you would have told me before” said Rini with some confidence, being my daughter for a long time. “Give me a ring when you are free. Bye!” added Rini some what relieved after her grueling interrogation.
“My daughter” I said with a smile while still thinking about my recent conversation with Rini.
“You told me that your daughter is in USA?” asked Farzana suspiciously.
“The call was from USA only” I replied.
“How she could know about me?” Asked Farzana, still suspicious.
“Probably she rang up her grandma in the morning which she normally does at least thrice a week and her grandma might have conveyed the news” I could only guess.
“Oh!” remarked Farzana and again resorted to gazing out of the window.
Within another few minutes we reached my mother’s place. As soon as our car reached the portico, the guard came running adjusting his belt and the opened door on Farzana’s side. As Farzana stepped out the guard was regretting why he did not have a shave in the morning!

“Please bring the luggage” I told Harvans and took the lift with Farzana. My mother’s flat is on the fourth floor. When I rang the bell, it was answered by my mother’s maid Mina, a Bengal-Bihar joint venture, beaming from ear to ear with sparkling eyes as if she was seeing the seventh wonder of the world!

My mother as usual was seated on her sofa in her living room and was reading a news paper. She greeted Farzana with a smile and gestured her to sit near her. I was surprised to see that instead of normal “Adab” Farzana greeted my mother with folded hand and said “Namaste”! From my mother’s smiling face I was convinced that Farzana had already been taken into her fold and I have done the right thing in bringing her home. They started conversing in Bengali.

My sister, Ilu was, however, not so gullible and was still little suspicious. She started asking Farzana lot of questions as if to verify her credentials!

It was already 10 AM and I did not have much time left for my meeting. After having a cup of tea brought by Mina who was very eager to join the gossip, I got up and told my mother “Ma, I have a meeting at 11 AM. I must change immediately and head for the office. I will also not be coming for lunch. Farzana will take lunch with you and then take some rest. Harvans will drop her to airport at 6 PM”. By then Farzana was quite at home with the ladies.

I was ready within half an hour. Before I took leave, I just wanted to check Farzana’s schedule and ask “Farzana could you please check your flight time once again and confirm?”
“I am sure it is at 8:20 PM” muttered Farzana but started digging her hand bag for the air ticket, may be just to satisfy me. She handed over the ticket to me without seeing. I took a brief look at the ticket and exclaimed in surprise “Farzana, here it is written 2:20 PM and not 8:20PM!” Farzana literally snatched the ticket from me, had a look and almost came to tears just thinking that if I hadn’t checked she would have missed the flight!

Immediately we both started dialing different numbers in our mobiles……. Farzana to her mother in Kashmir to enquire about the mix-up …….. and me to our branch manager at Kolkata office to arrange for a separate car to take her to airport.

After a brief tempest in Urdu with her mother, Farzana said with tears on her eyes “Mother said she tried for this earlier flight but settled for the evening flight when travelled agent told her that the earlier flight is full. She did not know that the travelled agent did arrange for the earlier flight as originally requested”
“Don’t worry! Thank God that you didn’t miss your flight. A separate car will come for you by 11:30 AM and you must leave for the airport latest by 12 O’clock. An authorized porter will take your luggage up to the check in counter. The car rental company and the driver have been instructed accordingly” I assured Farzana.
“Thank you very much, Mr. Sengupta for all the trouble you have taken”.
“That’s alright. It is already 10:30 AM and I must leave now. I don’t think I will be able to meet you before your departure. Take care and Khuda-hafez!” I told Farzana.
“Khuda-hafez!” said Farzana startled, with a rare smile on her face.
I then took leave from my mother and left for office.

Through out the day I was extremely busy. But before I got bogged down I advised our office secretary to check about the car and to ensure no further mix-up.

When I returned home at 6 PM, I was told by mother that Farzana left at 11:30 AM after a quick meal. Mina was, however, bubbling with excitement to tell me in details. “Kaku (Uncle), your friend removed her churni (Mina didn’t have any idea about Hijab!) after you left. She had such a nice brown hair! Since we did not have much time, I just made egg curry for her and she relished it. Is she coming back once again?” Mina was excited.

“Mina, it is very nice that Farzana liked your cooking, but there is no chance that she might come back again” I replied without elaborating to Mina that I just happened to meet Farzana only today at the Delhi airport!

After the tiring day, I took a bath and was having a cup of tea when my mobile started ringing. I picked it up and found the call is from an unknown number.
“Hello?” I asked, little unsure.
“Am I speaking to Mr. Sengupta?” the unknown caller asked.
“Yes?”
“Good Evening! Mr. Sengupta, I am Rahim Khan from Kashmir; Farzana’s father. Do you remember me?”
“Of course Mr. Rahim Khan. I do remember you. Good Evening to you. How is Farzana? Has she reached Bangladesh safely?”
“Yes, she has reached safely. She just rang up from Dhaka. She specifically requested us to inform you immediately. She told us in details what all happened! She is all praise for your family and particularly your mother & you!”
“Oh, Mr. Khan! That’s all right. What I did, I feel you would have also done the same for my daughter under the similar circumstances”.
“That’s for sure, but good gestures are becoming very rare these days. Mr. Sengupta, if you happen to visit Kashmir, please be my guest. You have won a friend” Mr. Khan said quite emotionally.
“Thank you very much Mr. Khan. Now you are also having a friend in Kolkata! Do visit us if you come to Kolkata”
“Khuda-hafez, Mr. Sengupta”
“Khuda-hafez, Mr. Rahim Khan”

After the phone call I was just pondering over the whole incident from the morning. I was sure that most of you may not support my action, but probably like the proverbial squirrel helping mythological Rama to make the bridge across the ocean, I might have helped, in my small way, in building a bridge for a different purpose.

There was some music being played in our adjacent flat. Subconsciously I started humming the tune. Then I realized it was “Knowing me, knowing you….” I like ABBA.

Good Samaritan? (Part III)

“OK” said Farzana with a half smile and with a tone conveying resignation to her fate and started pushing her trolley forward.
“Why don’t we switch; you take my strolley and let me push your trolley?” I said out of courtesy.
“No! It is OK” said Farzana with finality in her voice.
As soon we came out of the arrival lounge, my driver Harvans came running.
“Good Morning, Sir. May I help you?” said Harvans and tried to take the strolley from me.
Harvans is a burly sardar and was assigned to me by the rental car company for the last seven years. His nature was diametrically opposite to his physic. He was a thorough gentleman, extremely polite and courteous. He was my friend, philosopher and guide and used to take me under his fold whenever I came to Kolkata to visit my mother. He knew all my clients, my friends of all sexes, all my relatives and whoever I needed to meet or visit!
“Good Morning, Harvans! How are you? I replied and then added “Harvans, please take the trolley from Memsab (Lady)”.
Harvans was aghast! He had never seen me coming out of Kolkata airport with any lady not known to him. Not only Farzana was unknown but I could read that her beauty made Harvans completely nervous and confused!
“Good Morning, Memsab!” he said nervously and took the trolley from Farzana. Farzana did not object. When we came to car drop zone, Harvans told us to wait and brought the car from the parking area in a run. Once our luggage was properly loaded and we were comfortable inside the car I told Harvans” Harvans let’s go home first and then we will go to office probably after an hour”
“Shall we not go first to Hotel, Sir?” asked Harvans, looking at me through the rear view mirror with nervousness still written on his face.
“Which Hotel, Harvans?” I enquired.
“Sir, shall we not drop Memsab first?” asked Harvans politely.
“Memsab is going with us to our house” I replied.
Harvan’s shocked reaction was quite dramatic and he just managed to avoid the lamppost! “OK, Sir.” He said nervously. He was sure that something had gone wrong somewhere.

The house where my mother stays is by the side of Eastern Metropolitan by pass, a high way, on the south-eastern fringe of Kolkata. E.M by pass is connected to Kolkata airport via VIP road and a by pass high way skirting the Salt Lake City. The road connection was excellent but it used to take about an hour to reach my mother’s house from the airport. After driving a kilometer from the airport, Harvans took left turn to enter the by pass high way.

Since leaving the airport, Farzana had been looking through the window without uttering a word.
“Have you been to Kolkata before?” I asked just to start the conversation and make her feel at home.
“Only to Kolkata airport. I was always taking an earlier flight and never came out of the airport” replied Farzana without turning her head.
“Are you sure that you are not booked in that flight this time as well?” I wanted to be sure.
“My mother told me that she did try for the same flight, but could not get the reservation” replied Farzana.
“Then it is OK. By the way my name is Biplab Sengupta. You might have seen it in my business card”.
“O yes, I did. I am Farzana” Farzana said, turning her head and rewarding me with a very rare smile.
“Yes, I saw it on your boarding card”.
“Oh!”
“Are you visiting Bangladesh to meet any relatives?” I enquired.
“No, no. I am studying there. I am a third year medical student in Dhaka University”.
“But why in Bangladesh and not in India?” I enquired without hiding my surprise.
“It is much cheaper there. Moreover they have a medical college exclusively for girls with hostels inside the compound. It is very secure” explained Farzana. “Also it is much easier to get admission there” added Farzana.
“Since you are already in Dhaka for last three years, have you picked up any Bengali?” I enquired.
“I can understand it quite well. I can also speak, but only a little” replied Farzana.
“Are you carrying some instrument? Your luggage was very heavy.” I enquired.
“No, no. I am just carrying medical books. They are cheaper here. Also they are in short supply in our college library” replied Farzana with a shy smile.

I was quite impressed with her economic considerations. Must be business people, I thought! I suddenly remembered that it was already 9:15 AM and I had not yet called my mother!

My mother is always a little different from others of her generation. At the age of 85 and even with her frail health she was still spending at least five hours for Puja (holy rituals), but remained absolutely liberal and pragmatic in all her ideas. She always had equal respect for all religions and never bothered about the cast system. In our childhood we had everything except any supply of money. My mother, however, in joint venture with my father, who was great in his own right, gave me and my six sisters the opportunity to grow up with dignity in a most congenial and liberal atmosphere. It was heartening to see how she could control all of us without raising her voice and not resorting to any tantrums.

Unless I am sitting next to her, she would expect a phone call from me everyday latest by 7:30 AM. One hour grace when I used to be in Europe. For lesser mortals it would be better not to call her on her wireless number till 8:30 AM, otherwise you might hear “I am expecting Bapi’s (my pet name) call any moment. Please ring up later” like a recorded message.

“Ma, Bapi here, how are you?” I asked her through my mobile.
“You are late today in calling?” my mother asked for the explanation.
“Ma, I took 6:30 AM flight today from Delhi. In that wee hour you must have been in deep slumber and dreaming about me only. I did not want to disturb you in your dream!” I explained.
“You must have landed at least fifteen minutes back. Was the flight delayed? Is everything all right?” enquired my mother anxiously.
“Ma, everything is alright. I just wanted to give you some news. I met a Kashmiri girl in Delhi airport. She is taking the evening flight to Bangladesh. So instead of her waiting in the airport all alone, I am bringing her home so that she can spend some time with you. Her name is Farzana and she knows Bengali. Probably she could use Rini’s room. I will, however, be leaving for my office by 10:30 AM. Is it OK with you?” I replied with an asking note.
“Yes, it’s OK” replied my mother in a tone that sounded a little unsure.
“OK then. We will be reaching home within another half an hour” I replied and hung up.

I discovered later that since she was staying alone, my mother was a little unsure of receiving and entertaining a stranger all by herself and rang up one of my sister, “Ilu” who stayed nearby to join her immediately.
“Ilu, Bapi just now told me that he is coming home with a Kashmiri girl…..” started my mother.
“WHAAT? What do you mean? How long has this been going on? You never told us anything before?” rattled Ilu in a state of shock without letting my mother finish her sentence.
“I don’t thing it is that serious as yet. Bapi told me that he met her in Delhi airport” replied my mother.
“Are you sure it is not an alibi? Probably dada (elder brother) just wants you to see the girl. How old is she?” Ilu was very agitated.
“I really do not know her age. Anyway, if possible, please come immediately” replied my mother.
“Don’t worry. I will reach within fifteen minutes” replied Ilu and hung up.
My mother replaced the receiver slowly on the cradle with anxiety taking a grip on her, when the phone started ringing. [To be continued……]

Good Samaritan? (Part II)

“Yes!” I replied looking at him but still proceeding towards the check-in counter.
“Is this your only baggage?” ask the man, looking at my strolley.
That was an outright intrusion! “Yes! But why?” I replied, somehow hiding my annoyance.
“If you could kindly spare me a minute? I have a problem.” answered the man anxiously.
By that time I had stopped by his side since I was a little eager to know about his problem. Whether I could be of any help, I thought, could be decided later.
“See, my daughter is going to Kolkata alone and she is having a little excess luggage (An understatement, I thought looking at her luggage!). Since you are not having any checked in luggage, probably she could check in with you, if you would allow. Could you please help?” Pleaded the man.
Though the request was reasonable, it was really not advisable due to security consideration. At first I was inclined to refuse. But considering that those two pieces of luggage were after all properly screened as “checked in luggage” and my inborn weakness for damsels in distress persuaded me to change my stand. My boyhood involvement with the Boys Scout movement and their practice of “a good turn a day” also played a trick. I could hear myself saying “Yes” and shrugged my shoulder. I took the airline ticket from the gentleman and instructed the porter from Jet Airways, who was already eager to take my strolley, to take the trolley from the young lady instead.
“Good morning, Sir” said the girl sitting at the Jet Premier counter with a general issue smile, while collecting the tickets.
“Good Morning, Janet” I replied with a smile, looking at her name tag.
“Could you please help my companion to get a window seat towards the front?” I added, knowing full well that Janet must have already seen my bio-data in the computer monitor and I need not say anything about my personal preference.
“Let me search” said Janet, briefly looking at me, smiling.
“I can manage a window seat, but a little further down the aisle, 19F will it be OK, Mr. Sengupta?” asked Janet expectantly.
“That’s OK. Please go-ahead” I replied, much relieved.
“May I book the luggage in your name only, Mr. Sengupta?” asked Janet looking at the weighing machine.
“OK” I replied after being hesitant for a moment.
“Here you are. Your boarding card 3C with two luggage tags. Boarding card 19F for Farzana. Happy Journey, Mr. Sengupta” said Janet smilingly while handing me over all the boarding cards, counterfoils for tickets and cabin baggage tags. Janet also instructed the porter to put “Priority Tags” to our checked in luggage.
“Thank you Janet for all the help” I replied with a smile while leaving the check-in counter.
I walked to the gentleman and his daughter who were standing a little away and handed over the boarding card, counterfoil of airline ticket, cabin baggage tags and my business card saying ”Luggage tags are in my name because of excess weight. Since we will be seating separately, we could meet only at Kolkata airport. Please tell your daughter to contact me at my cell number, in case of any difficulty”. I did not ask for her cell number, out of courtesy.
The gentleman looked at my business card briefly, extended his arm and said with a smiling face, with all the worries gone “ Thank you very much Mr. Sengupta. It was very kind of you. By the way, my name is Rahim Khan. We are from Kashmir”.

I shook his hand with a worried face with lots conflicting thoughts passing through my mind. Mere mention of Kashmir made me little uneasy.

There was a time when Kashmir was synonymous to anything beautiful. The natural beauty of Kashmir, with snow capped mountain peaks, valleys with Chinar trees, flowing springs, river Jhelum, floating house boats and Shikaras laden with roses and tulips on Dal lake, even excelled the much adored Switzerland! It was epitomized in a famous Bollyood motion picture “Kashmir – ki – kali” (Flower (girl) from Kashmir). Anybody having the experience can not forget “Wazwan” fest with fine gourmet cuisine like rogan-josh, rista-gushtava, kahwah (saffron tea), and shawls made of cashmere wool, silk carpets and wood carvings. Kashmir is immortalized in the Urdu couplets of Ghulam Ahmed Ashai “Agar firdous bar rul-e-zameen ast, hamin ast – o – hamin ast – o- hamin ast “(If there is a paradise in the world, it is here, it is here, it is here!).

Everything is still very much the same, except it is now overshadowed by the advent of a dreaded disease called “Terrorism”. I really do not know who was at fault but the end result was the death of thousands of innocent people. A couple of years back it was still localized but it had now engulfed the entire Indian sub-continent. The actions which were perfectly normal and humane only a couple of years back would now be viewed with suspicion. I also could not help but thinking “Was it a ploy? Was I too gullible and have put myself and my fellow passengers at risk?” I started doubting ….. Whether the security screening for the checked in luggage was proper? did I check the security tags properly?.... did the girl in the check in counter check the security tags properly?...... whether the security tags were genuine? Literally I was totally confused and did not know what to do.

The airport was very crowded and while I was in the state of confusion, I saw Farzana and her father melting away in the crowd. Then I realized that the luggage was booked in my name and they would not be unloaded even if Farzana did not board the plane! I felt like kicking myself and did not feel like going to business lounge for a cup of tea even though there was plenty of time till the boarding announcement.

As soon as the boarding was announced, I went for boarding but could not locate Farzana. Even in the aircraft though I was in the front section, I somehow missed her. Meanwhile the aircraft doors were closed and our fates were sealed!

While flying also I could not get away from the uneasiness. I was really not very much bothered about myself but about my fellow passengers who were all relaxing without knowing their fate. I was too reluctant to go down the aisle to locate Farzana since that may not solve the problem. Suicide bombings were quite rampant!

Breakfast was served but due to my uneasiness I could not enjoy my “last supper”. I was much relived when I heard the announcement from the flight deck that we were about to land at Kolkata.

Jet Airways really take care of their business class guests and their priority luggage. By the time I reached the arrival lounge with Jet Airways’ special bus, I could locate Farzana’s two pieces of luggage on the conveyor belt. It was a relief then to locate Farzana slowly coming towards me, pushing an empty trolley in front. I had difficulty loading those two pieces of luggage on the trolley since they were quite heavy. Anyway, my duty done I casually asked Farzana “Will there be anybody to receive you? Or shall I drop you somewhere?”
“No! I will be waiting in the airport only. I have to take a flight to Bangladesh” said Farzana with a half smile.
“What time is the flight to Bangladesh?” I enquired without sounding too inquisitive.
“At 8:20 PM” said Farzana, matter of fact.
“8:20 PM?” I was puzzled looking at my watch which was showing only 9 AM. “How could you wait in the airport for almost 11 hours that too with so much of luggage?” I asked in bewilderment knowing the scanty facilities available in Kolkata airport.
“I have to manage. I really do not have much of an alternative. My friends will join me at the airport only, just before the departure” said Farzana.
“May I drop you to any of your relatives or friends” I said out of courtesy.
“I do not have any relative in Kolkata. My friends also stay outside Kolkata and I really do not have their proper addresses” said Farzana looking little nervous.
“Look, I will be visiting my Mother who stays in Kolkata in a big flat with her maids. My daughter is in USA. You may use her room; freshen up; have some food and relax; then my car will drop you to airport at a suitable time. I am too reluctant to leave you at airport all by yourself. Please rely on me” I insisted. [To be continued……]

Good Samaritan ?

I heard the sound while still in deep slumber. Slowly I realized the ringing tone of the telephone. Instinctively I turned on my right side in the bed and lifted the receiver from the cradle with my left arm.
“Hello?” I said, still half asleep.
“Good Morning, Mr. Sengupta. I am Nandita from reception. It is your wake-up call at 4 AM” said the lady’s voice from the other end.
“Good Morning, Nandita and thank you” I replied, already trying to remove the soft quilt with white satin cover covering me. At “ITC One” suite of Maurya Sheraton they really pamper you!
“Shall I give you a reminder call after five minutes, Mr. Sengupta?” asked Nandita, with expectation in her voice.
“No! No! Thank you Nandita, I am already fully awake” I replied
“Good day, Mr. Sengupta”
“Good day, Nandita”
I replaced the receiver and got up. The room was absolutely dark except for the foot light. I partially removed the heavy curtain from the window next to my bed, but the outside was still dark. Just then I heard the door bell. I switched on the bed side lamp to find my way and crossed the bed room and the living room to reach the suite door while tying the waist band of my dressing gown. I unlocked the door and opened it without peeping through the lookout glass (cardinal mistake!) to find our floor butler Sunil standing with a teapot on a tray. I opened the door fully and made way for him to enter.
“Good Morning, Mr. Sengupta” said Sunil with a broad smile and went past me with a wisp of soft aroma of a very good quality Darjeeling tea filling my nostril.
“Good Morning, Sunil”
“Shall I pour tea for you, Mr. Sengupta?” asked Sunil, lowering the tray on the centre table near the sofa.
“Not necessary. I will do it myself. Please tell reception to keep the bill ready. Tell them that I have not used the mini bar. Also the car should be at the porch by 4.30 AM” I said while tipping Sunil.
“Thank you, Mr. Sengupta, I will take care” said Sunil while closing the door softly.
I drank two cups of very light tea without sugar & milk very quickly and headed for the bathroom for brushing my teeth and a shave. There was no time for taking a bath or other morning chores.
Within another 20 minutes I was fully dressed up and settling the bill at the reception
“When do we see you next, Mr. Sengupta?” said Sagarika, the lobby manager, coming to greet me.
“May be tomorrow!” I said half jokingly while heading for the waiting car.
“Good Morning, Sir” greeted the doorman with a salute while opening the door of the black limousine.
“Good Morning” I said pleasantly while handing him my small luggage strolley with a tip and getting inside the car.
“Good Morning, Mr. Sengupta” greeted Akram at the driving seat, looking through the rear view mirror.
“Good Morning, Akram” I replied.
“Is the inside temperature OK, Mr. Sengupta?” asked Akram.
“Absolutely! Let us head for domestic airport, Jet Airways’ terminal”

I settled down and pondered what a life! I hate to get up in the morning, at least definitely not before 6 AM. But with my touring schedule of more than 20 days a month, all over the Globe that was simply not possible. For maximum utilization of time, there was no other way but to take at least ten early morning flights and equal number of late night flights per month. Different time zones of different continents compounded my problem further. I was nearing sixty and my secretary and all my friends thought that I was mad. They cautioned that I would meet my end any day. Doctors were very unhappy with me since I did not give them any business even under these extreme conditions!

It was early September, 2006 and I came to Delhi only a day before from my corporate headquarter at Ahmedabad. I would now be taking the 6.30 AM Jet Airways’ flight to Kolkata to attend a meeting at 11 AM. Flying to Kolkata, of course, gave me the added incentive of being with my Mother who stayed there with a full entourage of maid servants. One of my nieces and four of my sisters, who stayed nearby, would also normally be staying with her by turn. Earlier I use to live with her. But after I lost my wife to cancer in 1998, I had become a bit of a bohemian and was still unable to settle myself.

In the morning Delhi looked really regal with its clean and spacious roads. Invasion of traffic was yet to start and we reached domestic airport, Jet Airways’ terminal within about fifteen minutes. I tipped Akram and headed for the entrance with my laptop on my shoulder and dragging my strolley behind.

Airports are always the melting pots of the corporate world! Anytime of the day you have to keep a watch for any known faces least you miss any of your corporate friends or clients who are all loaded with tons of egos. An ex-boss of mine, who taught me the nitty-gritty of marketing, told me that once he found his boss hobnobbing with Deelip Kumar. But later when asked how he knew Deelip Kumar so well, he literally fell from the sky and exclaimed “Oh my God! Was he Deelip Kumar? I found his face very familiar and thought he must be some corporate honcho and might feel offended if I fail to recognize him!” This is a true story and this is the corporate world!

Even in the morning the Jet Airways’ terminal was like a fish market. I was keeping a very watchful eye while negotiating with my strolley. I almost reached Jet Airways’ premier counter without locating any known faces (unless everybody were hiding behind the piles of luggage!) when I saw the girl! She was in her early twenties and was standing near the extreme left counter with a luggage trolley laden with two pieces of oversize soft-baggage and a middle aged gentleman in a dark suit standing by her side. She was strikingly beautiful with very fair complexion and pale blue eyes. She was wearing a spring green Salwar-kamiz with a white scarf tied over her head like Hijab. She was, however, looking very distraught with all the worries of the world reflected on her face!

“To help all the damsels in distress in the world could not be my sole responsibility. At my age I could not be the knight in the shining armor” I told myself and was trying to shift my gaze when I heard “ Excuse me Sir, are you flying to Calcutta?” and saw that the middle aged gentleman who was standing beside the girl had just stepped in front and was addressing me! [To be continued….]

Match Making (concluding part)

Like commercial break in TV serial there was a tea break. Two young boys in early teens who later introduced themselves as Archana’s brothers, entered with two trays laden with tea and sweets. Archana and her mother did not take anything except tea that too with our insistence.

Tea break gave some respite to Sanjay and Swapan who could concentrate in something sweeter than classical music and even could manage to ask a few mundane questions to Archana.

I was, however, not that lucky. I was already monopolized by Archana’s mother and her two brothers with tacit involvement of Archana. Earlier I was slowly getting out of my nervousness considering that I really do not have any stake in the selection processes. However, Swapan’s clarification about my coming to Delhi just added to my woes. To my horror I could see that Archana’s mother was more or less asking for my CV! It was more like Apu in Apur Sangsar (Apu’s world) where he had happened to be present in a marriage function and got drawn into playing the leading role. Archana’s mother must be knowing the oft repeated proverb a bird in hand is better than two in bush and could guess that I may be fulfilling two of the three main criteria for the romantic heroes for Mills & Boon. Though my Napoleonic height of 164 cm with socks could not be called tall with any stretch of imagination, I am sufficiently dark (My boyhood name kalu will confirm) and may not be positively ugly (….in the eyes of the beholder)! An Engineering degree (Whichever way I might have got it) and impending departure to Germany adding icing on the cake.

I, however, asked myself “Am I not making the whole scenario more complicated and may possibly be cheating Arup?” This was definitely not the original script. All just started in a much lighter note when I just joined as a lesser member of the team for the preliminary selection of a girl for somebody I do not even know. Friendship could be alright and that was also my original idea but any further emotional attachment will not serve the main purpose. I could understand that Archana’s mother, like mothers in general was working only from her heart but might not be with proper reasoning. More involvement from my side would only jeopardize the present proposal.

The conversation went on for some time till Sanjay thought about calling it a day. He assured Bhavani that he was quite satisfied with to-day’s meeting and would inform Arup and his family accordingly. “Wish you a happy journey” whispered Archana before we parted. I could only say “Thank you” with a meek smile.

Inside the car both Sanjay and Swapan jumped on me to vent out their frustration. Like children they were complaining that though I was supposed to play the fiddle, I just snatched the centre stage without giving them a friendly chance. No amount of my argument that I just wanted to help the damsel in distresses since they were more interested in the male members (Gay movement was not so strong in those days, otherwise it could have given me a better edge in my argument) could not cut any ice. They could have strangled me but for my long friendship with Swapan!

On reaching home we found Swapan’s mother and sister were eagerly waiting to know about the outcome. “Auntie, Biplab spoilt the whole thing” was the first remark made by Sanjay. “Whaaat? That is impossible!” remarked Swapan’s mother with her confidence on me slightly shaken. “Tell us in details what actually happened?” demanded Swapan’s sister. Sanjay and Swapan, with some meek protest from me in between, then explained in all gory details what all had happened. Verdict was prompt! “Biplab has not done anything wrong” declared Swapan’s mother (Being an underdog, I always get preferential treatment from ladies!) “Rather he has saved the situation. You two are to be blamed for what all happened. From tomorrow, I suggest, you two take classes on classical music. From what I gather the girl is quite a suitable match” added Swapan’s mother further. A smile on Swapan’s sister’s face confirmed that the judgment was unanimous!

Sanjay and Swapan were not really happy with one sided judgment but decided to meet Bhavani once again to collect some further details. But this time, only after I was safely packed abroad.

Next day I left for Germany and immediately got bogged down with my studies and adjustment with German culture which is so very different from ours.

I remembered Archana all the time and wished her well but have no clue to what finally happened, since in those days communication was not as easy between two far of continents and it would have of course seemed a bit awkward asking about friend’s …friend’s …friend’s probable fiancé…

Even now sometime I ask myself “Did Archana expect anything from me? Did I deceive her in anyway?”

The question still haunts me like the cry of a red-wattled lapwing floating in the air and seeking answer night and day “Did-ye-do-it? Did-ye-do-it?”


.

Match making (part II)

On the fateful day, I once again put up valiant resistance but was overpowered by Swapan & Sanjay who literally dragged me along with them. While entering the house we followed the same formation (nobody wants to change the wining formation!). Sanjay rang the bell and it was answered by an even bigger giant with a broad smile from one ear to other. “I am Bhavani Banerjee. Do come in please” he said and ushered us in. He was joined by his brother Chandi who was also beaming from ear to ear. Before entering the living room we just briefly surveyed the same. On the left there was a window, by the side of which was a huge Bengali style divan. On the right there was a big sofa by the side of the wall. The living room being not too spacious, these two pieces of furniture had created a choking point like “Strait of Hormuz” near the entrance. If you had crossed that choking point, the rest of the room was sparsely but tastefully decorated. On the opposite side of the window there was a curtained door leading to the dwelling portion of the house. A few chairs were kept in between for additional seating.

Before we took our seat, Chandi introduced us to his elder brother. To keep the escape root clear Sanjay took the divan and Swapan sat on the sofa. Considering me as a nonentity both the brothers immediately decided to personally entertain the more important guests. So Bhavani sat with Sanjay and Chandi took care of Swapan.With no other option left, I crossed the “Strait of Hormuz” and occupied one of the chairs, avoiding the one conspicuously decorated with a cushion.

After pleasantries were exchanged, there was a silence, may be due to dried throats of my partners or lack of topics. Anyway, Swapan cleared his throat and mentioned, “End of this month, there will be a big function in our locality on Rabindrasangeet (Tagore’s songs). Are you too coming?” just to start the conversation.
“We are exponents of classical music and do not consider Rabindrasangeet as having any class.”, said Bhavani with finality.
The remark probably offended Sanjay who, I later understood, had some soft corner, like normal Bengalis, for Rabindrasangeet.
“I don’t think your remark is very fair” protested Sanjay mildly.
Swapan was suddenly buoyed by his team spirit and thought it was his solemn duty to help Sanjay.
“Rabindrasangeet, after all, are lyric based and some of them could easily be termed as semi-classical” commented Swapan, like an expert.
His intention, I guessed, was not to pick up a fight but might be just to prove that Rabindrasangeet are songs after all!
Conversation, however, did not stop there. Both the brothers took it as their solemn duty to convince both Sanjay and Swapan, whom they have already accepted as de-facto disciples, the greatness of classical music and its superiority over any other form of music. All four of them then got engaged in an animated discussion over music in general and classical music in particular!

I, who never had any brush with music, was wondering with their depth of knowledge on different type of music and Ragas (tunes) most of which were going over my head! I was particularly impressed by Swapan whom I knew to be innocent in music while in IIT just the other day!

When the argument had reached its crescendo, the curtain on the dwelling side was gently parted and floated in a girl in her late teens or early twenties along with a middle aged lady. Suddenly there was a hush in our conversation and we all stood up to greet them. The girl was wearing an aquamarine sari in typical Bengali style, a single strand pearl necklace and matching ear rings. She was of fair complexion, medium height with long raven black hair flowing half way down her back. She was not classically beautiful with very sharp features but very pretty. A face which would not be lost in the crowd. If you have seen it once, you will always have a desire to see it once again. Minimal make-up and a faint fragrance of jasmine added to her charm and innocent youthfulness.

We all sat after exchanging salutation in Indian style. The girl sat on the cushioned chair next to me, increasing my pulse rate to 150 (hope that is possible?). For some time no body uttered any word. Then all of a sudden Bhavani said “Yes, what I was telling?” Then all the warring factions once again went for their musical discussion completely ignoring the main purpose for the assembly. The middle aged lady, who was the girl’s mother, kept a smiling face but must have been cursing her husband under her breath. The girl found something very interesting on her thumb nails, which she must have seen so many times before. I did not know what to do and concentrated on the mosaic design on the floor which I was seeing for the first time.

This imbroglio continued for a couple of minutes, which was like ages under the situation, when I thought that it must be quite humiliating for any self respecting girl to be kept waiting like this with nobody paying her any attention. My throat was completely dry due to nervousness. She looked at me with startled expression full of anxiety when I drew her attention and said, “Look, the one who is wrestling with your father is Sanjay. He is a classmate of Arup who is looking for a partner. The one on the mat with your uncle is Swapan. He is Sanjay’s friend from Delhi. I am not sure whether he has ever met Arup. I am Swapan’s friend and just happened to be in Delhi. I really do not know anything about Arup. So my judgment is not likely to tilt the balance in anyway. Since, however, the main characters are so very busy, we may probably introduce ourselves as friends if you do not mind. By the way, my name is Biplab”.
The girl gave me an unsure smile, making my day. “Oh! That’s very fine. My name is Archana”.
I always found Bengalis outside Bengal are quite self assured and Archana was no exception. Probably my preamble also put her at ease. Though she started nervously, some prodding from her mother made her quite free in discussing almost anything under the sun including some personal details like, her studies, her hobbies etc.
When I asked her “Do you also sing classical? Don’t worry I am not going to ask you to sing one”
She rewarded me with a smile and said “Yes, of course” Then she gave a flitting glance to her father and added in a low voice “I also sing Rabindrasangeet when my father and uncle are not around”.
Sanjay was already feeling suffocated with unending discussion which he did not start and was now visibly frustrated seeing me having a good time with Archana. “Biplab is leaving to-morrow” he uttered, may be just to give the signal that I would not be the part of the team from the next meeting.
“Why? Though summer is not the best time to visit Delhi, but since you have come all the way, why don’t you stay for a few more days” asked Archana’s mother.
“That is not the case. Biplab is leaving to-morrow for Germany with a scholarship.” Corrected Swapan.
“WHAAAAAT?” said everybody in unison unable to check their surprise.
Though Archana did not utter any word, she just looked at me and gave a knowing smile, as if I have concealed something intentionally. [To be continued…]

Match making

It was June of 1972 and extremely hot in Delhi. I had just managed to get a German scholarship for two years and landed in Delhi on 1st of June and put up with my class mate Swapan. Though I was supposed to fly on 6th, I came to Delhi a little early to complete the visa & other facilities. That was my first visit abroad and I did not have any experience with German efficiency. Surprisingly all the formalities were over within two hours on the first day itself and I did not know what to do for the rest five days!

Swapan was in midst of changing his job (he almost took it as a hobby!) and was naturally very busy and had no time for me except during late evening. Due to extreme hot climate, I was also not venturing out during the day time and passing my time gossiping with Swapan’s mother, father and younger sister.

Next day one of Swapan’s friends, Sanjay came for tea. He was looking little nervous and informed Swapan that he has to meet a Bengali family near by in connection with a match making proposal for one of his close friend, Arup. Since his friend stayed away from Delhi, Sanjay was entrusted with making the “First Information Report”. He was too scared to go alone and wanted immediate help from Swapan. As usual, Swapan was most benevolent and agreed to help

“Arranged marriage” is still a common practice in India and about 40 years back “love marriage” as an alternative, used to be quite uncommon, if not a taboo! Once some proposal has come either through match maker, relative or friend, it is customary for the girl’s parents to send the photograph and other details of the girl (an elaborate CV starting from family history to complexion) to boy’s parents for initial approval. If it is tentatively approved then boy’s parents along with some senior members of the family would go for seeing the girl. The processes are, however, quite long drawn and on occasion, could be quite humiliating for the girl and her family. Since I have six sisters of my own, I was quite familiar with the procedure and did not like it beyond a point.

Swapan & Sanjay decided to meet the girl’s parents and if possible the girl that day itself and wanted me to accompany (Swapan had a very old Morris car which requires occasional manual encouragement and two would always be better than one!). Though initially I declined, Swapan’s mother prevailed over me. Anyway I did not have anything else to do and she had the misconception of I being more mature of the three (lady’s instinct I suppose!)!

We all set out in Swapan’s car by the evening. I was very nervous since I had never had such an encounter. “Biplab, don’t be nervous. We have enough experience. You just sit back and relax. We will do all the talking” boasted Sanjay may be just to smoothen his nerves and mine too in the process.

Girl’s house was only a few blocks away. A small footpath leading from a wicket gate to the main entrance of a typical government quarters in Delhi. Sanjay was leading the charge with Swapan as second in-command. I opted as rear guard (only position available in a three men army) and kept the gate slightly ajar as an after thought to take care of any eventualities. Sanjay confidently rang the bell. Within a few minutes the door was opened by a huge hulk of a man who could be a contender for WWE championship. He looked at us very suspiciously and demanded with a matching gruff voice “Whom do you want?”

Seeing the giant and hearing his voice I already took a couple of steps backward with a pretext of admiring the non-existent flower garden and could also observe all the confidence vanishing from Sanjay’s face.
“We are looking for Mr. Bhavani Banerjee. Is he home?” stammered Sanjay.
“No. He is not at home. I am his younger brother Chandi Banerjee. Is there anything I can do?” boomed the door keeper without lowering his guard or allowing us to cross the threshold.
“There was a matrimonial proposal for his daughter and we came in that connection. We would like to meet the girl and her parents” whispered Sanjay.
Mere mention of matrimonial proposal for his niece changed the scenario completely. The giant became most docile.
“See, this is a very important event in girl’s life and we would require some time for preparation. Could you please come back on day after tomorrow when my elder brother Bhavani will also be back? Said the giant in a sweetened voice.
“By the way, how are you related to the prospective bride groom?” he further quipped, probably as an after thought
“I am his friend. We were class mates in college” answered Sanjay.
“And you?” question was directed to Swapan.
“I am Sanjay’s friend”
For a couple of moments giant was pondering whether it would be prudent to ask me about my credential but the curiosity got the better of him “and you?” he asked me in a some what puzzled tone.
“I am Swapan’s friend “I replied, half way down the path, keeping in mind unpredictable nature of giants for humor.
Anyway, there was no violent reaction and Chandi Banerjee closed the door with a puzzled smile on his face probably thinking whether he has taken a right decision in inviting us day after tomorrow evening to meet his niece and what his elder brother would think of him. We all hurriedly got into the car having settled the issue for the time being. Once inside the safe refuge of the car, Sanjay & Swapan both lighted cigarettes to tone up their nerves. I being a non-smoker subjected to passive smoking from the back seat. [to be continued…]