Chapter 1
The rectangular
drawer of the old wooden chest seemed to have got jammed in an awkward way and
was refusing to slide in smoothly. The little boy who was pulling it with all
his might wasn’t too pleased with this sudden interruption in his enthusiastic
rummaging of his grandfather’s chest of drawers. He paused for a while from his
struggle to straighten the drawer and crouched to peep inside. His eyes lit up
as he peered closely into the dark cavern of the drawer and seemed to find what
he was looking for.
He stretched out his hand into the crevice trying to grasp
the contents which lay hidden in the far corner of the drawer. His fingers
brushed across a stack of papers of different feel. The little boy continued to
run his fingers through the stack, but he could only make out that the papers
were of different sizes and textures and some of them were tied up in bunches
by cloth strings. So engrossed was he in his process of discovery, that he
didn’t hear the faint sounds of footsteps that had come into the room by then.
“Andy! ….what
are you doing there?” a voice sharply called out, startling him suddenly.
The little boy
quickly glanced over his shoulders to find his mother standing a few steps
behind him, inside the room. He quickly withdrew his hand from inside the
drawer and looked sheepishly at his mother.
“Did I not tell
you to go and take rest in your room? And instead of that, what are you doing
here?” Andy’s mother said, looking at him, her voice somewhat firm.
“And why are you rummaging through these old
and dusty drawers again? Haven’t I told you not to play with these things… see,
you have jammed the drawer now!”
Andy’s mother
continued her scornfulness toward her son, as she bent down and with a thrust
and jerk straightened the drawer and slammed it shut in the chest. Brushing the
dust off her fingers, she caught hold of the boy’s arm marching off with him to
the adjoining room for the routine afternoon siesta!
It was a summer
afternoon and the house lay silent, with its occupants mostly asleep in their
respective rooms. The occasional squeak of the ceiling fans could only be heard
as they furiously spun, making the rooms cooler. Lying beside his mother and
his eyes transfixed on the ceiling fan circling above, Andy lay wide awake! He
was so close to his discovery today. His mind wandering over to his favourite
web of thoughts…his Saheb-dadai!!
The more he
thought about this man, the more intrigued he felt. By relation, his great
uncle, but Andy felt directly connected to the man even though he had never
seen him. But there was no dearth of stories about him in the family and Andy
just loved to hear them over and over again! And his curiosity was readily
satisfied on lazy afternoons and sleepy nights by his grandmother and
grandfather and sometimes by his father too!
This less-seen
but much spoken-of character in the family was called by more names than one!
To Andy’s father and aunts he was their loving ‘Guli-kaka’ while an elder cousin sister of Andy had coined the
name ‘Saheb-dadai’ for him, as he
lived in far-off England which for the children was always the land of ‘Sahebs’! Guli-kaka carried a different
aura about himself in this otherwise quiet and orthodox Bengali family and the
way he was revered and spoken about, truly lent a dash of colour and enigma to
his personality. And it was this aspect that had charmed the eight year old
Andy. He longed to find out more about this man who had travelled the seas like
Sinbad unleashing his flamboyant adventurous spirit!
There was another reason why Andy felt
specially attached to his ‘Saheb-dadai’ and that was his own name: Andy! It was certainly an uncommon one
for a name in an orthodox Hindu family and sounded quite out-of-place at times.
But he had learnt from his grandmother that it was Saheb-dadai who had
christened him with this name and as per his wish the name stayed forever. The
story of his birth had already become legendary in the family and Andy loved to
hear it over and over again from his grandmother! The aura around the legend
was not about him being born but that the occasion was the last time that the
family saw Saheb-dadai amongst them! And something that everyone in the family
spoke of was how Saheb-dadai had himself carried the newborn child from the
nursing home in his arms to the family house, christened him with this very
uncommon name and then returned to England soon after.
Lying on a mat,
snuggled close to his grandmother, on many a moon-lit night, Andy would request
her to recite this story once again. His grandmother, whom he and other
children of the family fondly called ‘Mum-mum’,
would then lovingly smile at him and start her recital of the tale probably for
the umpteenth time! Often as she brought the tale to a close, she would let out
a sigh and say:
“I wish he would
come back once again to see you grow up! How much we all miss him… and I am
sure he misses us too…” Her voice would trail off and taking a glance at the
wrinkled face of his grandmother, Andy would probably see her eyes moistening.
“Tell me more
about my grandfathers Mum-mum…”
Tugging at her arm Andy would cut through her thoughts and say.
“Your grandfathers were three brothers you
know… Sailen, Jiten and Satyen!” Mum-mum
continued, looking up at the dark starry night sky as they lay on the mat on
the terrace.
Andy knew about
this fact already; his own grandfather was Jiten an accomplished professor of
Sanskrit and author of many books. Andy loved listening to stories and doing
all kinds of word activities with him sitting on his bed! Andy also knew that
his grandfather’s elder brother Sailen had passed away just few months before
he was born. Sailen was a doctor and a much revered man in the social circles within
which the family mingled. He was Mum-mum’s
husband and ever since his early childhood recollections, Andy had seen a large
framed photograph of him seated on a chair, kept in the central square lobby of
the house. And Satyen was the much loved ‘Guli-kaka’
of the family and his ‘Saheb-dadai’!
“No No… I know
all that! Tell me from where you had left off the earlier day!” Andy hurriedly
interrupted his grandmother.
Mum-mum smiled at him and
looking at the night sky seemed to recollect the thread of the story. She had a
fantastic skill of weaving tales out of the history of the family and its
characters.
“You were saying
about the many concerns that Saheb-dadai’s letters would not reach his brother
from across the seas due to the World War that had disrupted life in many
countries across the world” Andy impatiently said, trying to connect the lost
threads of the story to his grandmother.
“Yes, that’s
right..” Mum-mum continued in an
enthusiastic voice.
“What did they write in these letters, Mum-mum?” Andy asked innocently.
“Oh they used to
write a lot of things. Saheb-dadai used to tell his brother where he was and
the situations of the place, how he was managing his work, his stay and
travels. And Jiten also used to write back keeping his younger brother informed
about the family here and how much all of us missed him…”
“You must read
some of those letters when you grow up. Your grandfather has kept most of them
with him.” Mum-mum said.
In the next few
hours, Andy listened intently to his grandmother’s story as the character of
‘Saheb-dadai’ gradually unfolded in his imagination till he was softly lulled
to sleep!
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
‘It must be some
of those letters only, that are stacked away inside the drawers’, Andy thought
as he lay awake on his mother’s bed that summer afternoon.
‘Maybe I should ask Grandfather directly about
the letters and he can read them to me’. Andy thought and mentally decided that
he would do it once he got back from school the next day.
As he closed his
eyes and snuggled closer to his mother, his mind wandered to imagine Saheb-dadai,
sitting in an arm-chair in the drawing room of a quaint old house, down a
tree-lined street, in a city called London, miles away!
Andy tried hard to
imagine…he had only heard the name ‘London’, that’s where his Saheb-dadai
stayed, but young Andy knew nothing more about the place!
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Andy never quite
got the opportunity in the following few days to get back to the search of his
‘Saheb-dadai’s’ letters. Something or the other kept coming by to stall his
endeavour but that did not deter the young mind from pursuing his quest. He did
ask his grandfather about it one evening, but his grandfather only smiled at
him and ruffled his hair.
“You are too
small now to understand all this”, his grandfather Jiten told him lovingly.
“But yes, when
you grow up you must know about your Saheb-dadai, for he is indeed a man of
great character and a truly inspirational personality”, Andy’s grandfather said
softly, his eyes looking out of the window. “Wait, I will give you something!”
As Andy looked
on inquisitively, his grandfather bent down and opened the same drawer which he
was trying to open the other day! From inside, his grandfather took out a
leather case and carefully opening it took out a small piece of paper, brown in
colour.
After having put
the case back in the drawer and having shut the same, he turned towards Andy
and extending his hand held out the small brown paper to the young boy. Andy
took a few steps ahead and took the paper from his grandfather. It was a folded
piece of paper, brown in colour and looked quite old and almost brittle. As
Andy slowly opened the single fold of the paper, he looked down and saw that it
contained a small photograph. The picture was a black-and-white one, almost as
small as a postage stamp and was pasted to the brown piece of paper. The young
man whose photograph it was needed no introduction to Andy: he knew him very
well already … his Saheb-dadai!
“You know, I always used to keep this
photograph of my brother Guli in my work-case. It has been there for many
years, ever since he left home.” Jiten’s voice was almost a whisper and was
audible only to himself and his dear grandson. As Andy listened intently, Jiten
spoke along…
“Whenever I
looked at his photograph, I felt that he was close to me. Our mother had passed
away when we were very young, and Guli was only a boy then. He always used to
be close with me and would ask me for everything. When he left, it was such a
heart-burn for both of us, as we had never stayed without each other ever
before that. But it was a big and bold decision that he took in his life…”
Jiten’s voice trailed off as if he had got transported to those days of
separation with his dear brother.
“When Guli left home there was utter chaos in
our house and many people were saying a whole lot of things. But Guli came to
me and said: ‘Dada, don’t worry, I
will return in a few years. It is just that this assignment which I have earned
is so important an opportunity for me that I don’t want to throw it away. And
when I return, all the people will be happily surprised!’ Honestly, I did not
doubt his words, but somewhere at the back of my mind I was apprehensive that
he may not actually return too soon.”
“But I had felt very happy for my brother. He
was an ambitious man with a lot of courage and someone who could almost write
his own destiny by his own hands! And see, he has actually done that! Only that
his parting words on that day did not come true for us. So many years went by
but Guli never returned…”
Jiten paused for
a while and took a deep breath. And then smiling at his grandson, who was
looking up expectantly at his face, he continued.
“But I have no
regrets, though I miss him very much even today. And such a man has never come
by in our family. Even though he has been away for so many years, we have kept
in close touch as far as possible through letters. Even Guli visited us few
times; the last time being when you were born!” Jiten lightly placed his hand
on his grandson’s head.
“Now I have grown old and do not go out
anymore, so this photograph lies locked in my work-case. So, you can keep it
with you.” Jiten nodded to his grandson, who looked up wide-eyed. “As you grow
up, this photograph will remind you about me and my brother Guli, one of the
most courageous and inspirational members of our family! But you must keep it
very safely and not lose it”. Jiten said to the young Andy who nodded his head
as if to assure his grandfather.
“Dadai, can I ask you something?” Andy
softly asked as he slid off his grandfather’s lap sensing that the Saheb-dadai
story was over for the time being. Jiten smiled and looked at his grandson
questioningly.
“I want to read
the letters which Saheb-dadai wrote to you.” Andy put forth his request.
“But you are too
young now and you may not understand everything. You can read them once you
grow up a bit. And the letters are kept in my drawer only and will remain
there.” Jiten smiled again and said, pointing to the dark brown chest of
drawers that stood at the corner of room across the bed. Andy nodded his head
and glanced at the picture of Saheb-dadai in his hand and smiled at his
grandfather.
Chapter 2
“Being the
youngest of the children in a large family in those days also often meant that
you grow up on the sidelines!” Mum-mum
said, looking up at the starry night sky. As usual, she was there on the
terrace with some others of the family, enjoying a post-dinner relaxation time
lying on a mat, and needless to say little Andy had snuggled close to her with
his request for stories. And like most of the times, Mum-mum had started to tell Andy the story about his Saheb-Dadai.
Looking at
Andy’s face which sported a quizzical look, Mum-mum
decided to clarify her statement.
“Guli was the
youngest of the lot, but not necessarily the most pampered one! When I was
married to his elder brother and came into the family, he was about fifteen years
old and I have seen him since then. Even as a young lad, Guli was on his own
and hardly depended on anyone else to take care of him. He was particularly
fond of Jiten, his middle brother and the two shared a very special bond ever
since. I can say, Guli grew up in the shadow of his brothers.
For a family
that came with a lineage of teachers and professors of Sanskrit down the ages,
Guli’s decision to study engineering was quite a surprise for all.
“But, no one in
the family has ever been into engineering! Are you sure Guli….?” His father, a
renowned professor of Sanskrit at the Government College, asked with concern
for his youngest son.
“No problem
father…” Guli’s elder brother Sailen spoke up even before Guli could open his
mouth. “No one in the family had ever been a doctor either!” Sailen was a
doctor by profession and well-established at that. Jiten of course had chosen
to follow his father’s footsteps and was a professor of Sanskrit.”
Andy turned over
on the mat and propped himself up on his elbows and added, “That was nice
indeed. All the three brothers chose different careers, so we have a doctor, a
professor and an engineer in the family!” Mum-mum
laughed aloud at the little boy’s comment and nodded in the affirmative.
“So, very soon
Guli got himself admitted into one of the reputed Engineering Colleges of the
city.” Mum-mum continued. “And you
must remember, those were the times when the British still ruled over India and
their centre of control was our city Calcutta. So, in most of the colleges we
had professors and teachers who were Englishmen and they followed the western
methods of study and used all mechanics of the western world to teach their
students. And our Guli also started to learn those mechanics gradually.”
Mum-mum smiled at her
little grandson and said, “It just seems like the other day, even though it is
now so many years and our Guli is away in some far away land…” Andy tugged at
her arm once again, fearing that the flow of the family story might wander
away.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Andy did not
hear the ring of the telephone in the first instance. Though he was fascinated
by this unique instrument, black in colour, which stood all wired up, he would
rush towards it whenever it let out its shrill ring, but he was never allowed
by the elders to pick up its receiver or speak into it.
That day when
the phone rang it was evening time and Andy was with his mother inside the
room, trying to focus on practicing sums which were a part of his weekend
homework. The phone rang incessantly as there was no one present in the hall
where the instrument was placed. It was quite some time before Andy’s father
came rushing out of his study and picked up the receiver minutes before the
call could get disconnected.
By that time,
some of the other family members had also rushed into the hall: Andy’s elder
aunt who was busy in her room with her guitar musings, Andy’s mother who left
her son with the sums and rushed to attend the telephone and Andy’s grandmother
who was sitting at her evening religious rituals and recitations in the puja room. But what none of these people
had noticed in their rush was that the telephone ring was significantly longer
than usual, signalling that this was an International Trunk Call!
“Hello…hello..!”
Andy’s father almost shouted into the mouth-piece of the instrument as he
pressed the receiver hard against his ear. After a short while, it seemed that
the line had stabilized and the communication was able to flow smoothly. Andy
in the meantime had slowly got off his study table and proceeded towards the
door of the room, observing the scene unfolding in the hall.
Peeping from
behind the curtain and unobserved by others, the little boy noticed his
father’s face change expressions every minute as the telephone conversation
ensued. He saw his father speak animatedly with the caller on the other end
trying to gather as much information as he could. Though from the unfolding of
the scene Andy couldn’t really make out much then, he could sense that this was
certainly an important call and an unusual one, for his father spoke all
through the conversation in English, which he had hardly ever heard in the past
in his house.
After a few
minutes, the conversation ended and he saw his father put down the receiver
back onto the telephone cradle and turn to face the others waiting expectantly.
Andy was shocked to see his father’s face. It bore a deadly gloom and an
expression of grief. He understood that something terrible had happened. Andy
saw his father speak in a whisper to his aunt and mother and from the look of
the expressions on their faces, his fears were confirmed.
Within minutes
Andy saw his father and elder aunt also walk into the room and following them
was his youngest aunt, whom he loved dearly. She bore a questioning look on her
face, quite oblivious of the international trunk call that had landed on their
telephone and the news that it had heralded. The conversation between the four
adults continued for a while ignoring the presence of the little boy in the
room who continued to look on intently. As they all turned to leave the room,
Andy could not hold himself back any further.
“What has
happened father?” He softly asked, still standing beside his study table, but
his eyes glued to his father’s face all the while.
As the others
left the room, Andy’s father stepped back hearing his son’s voice. He came
close to Andy and picked him up in his arms. Andy looked closely into his
father’s eyes and could sense a feeling of shock and grief in them. His father
comfortingly put his hand on Andy’s head and caressed him softly. Then as if in
a whisper he spoke.
“Andy… Remember
your Saheb-dadai in England? We have just got the news that your Saheb-dadai
has passed away today morning in London… His son had called to convey the news
to us…”
Andy trembled
within as his father’s words hit him and he tried to fathom the realization. He
saw his father’s eyes grow watery and his face seemed in deep anguish, as his
father put him down from his lap.
“We don’t know
how we will break this news to your grandfather and others in the family…”
Andy’s father spoke as if to himself, as he quietly ruffled his son’s hair and
then gradually went out of the room.
Andy stepped
back and quietly sat on his chair, his palms folded on his lap, his head bowed
and his gaze fixed on his palms. This was his first interaction with any news
of ‘death’ and he tried his best to realize the impact.
Slowly he got up and
opened the last drawer of his study table, the place where he usually kept all
his personal stuff which his mother loved to call ‘junk’. His small diary which
his father had given him was right there on the top amongst other things
stuffed in the drawer. Andy took out the diary and closed the drawer. He
flipped through the empty pages till he came to the middle of the book.
There
lay on the page a small brown piece of paper, almost gone brittle, but with a
photograph pasted on it. It was the same item which he had received from his
grandfather a few days back and had kept as one of his most precious
possessions.
The picture of
his Saheb-dadai looked up at him, as Andy opened the fold of the brown paper
and held it in his palm. A handsome young man with a smiling face, his hair
neatly combed and parted at the side, his Saheb-dadai shone bright and
inspiring as he looked directly at Andy from the photograph.
“I will never
get to meet you Saheb-dadai…never in my
life!” the thought raced through Andy’s head as he looked on at the tiny
photograph in his hand.
This then was what ‘death’ meant…an infinite
separation!
Andy suddenly felt his heart burst inside his chest and his eyes
well up. Warm tears slowly rolled down his cheeks, as beyond the door curtain
he heard the voices of his parents, aunts and grandmother in commotion: His
father had broken the terrible news to the family!
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