GYANENDRA CHANDRA DEB - MY FATHER

My father, Gyanendra Chandra Deb, passed away on the 22nd of July, 1993. My mother had already passed away on the 5th of May 1992. 
Baba was absolutely and completely dedicated to his mother. 

Beautiful even at this advanced stage, isn't she? She had been a widow from a very early age because my grandfather, Rai Saheb Ishan Chandra Deva, had passed away at a young age.

Thakurda worked with the Geological Survey of India. he had friends like the Maharani of Coochbehar, Prithviraj Kapoor, Nawabs etc. After reading many autobiographies now I have realised these were quite common with educated class of India in those days. where and how he became spiritual is still a mystery. But I know for sure that both the Brahmin families (grandfather's and grandmother's, she came from a Mukherjee family) had become Brahmos. Why is another story. Today it is about my dad, my Baba. 
I read Baba's diary written from 1929 to 1939 and found various aspects of a human being. I got to know that my Baba had been in love! Awesome! At the age of 24 - wow! anyway he was disappointed and that probably set his path for the future. 
Baba studied at the D.A.V. school in Dehradun. he never had a teacher who could speak english correctly and yet how did Baba speak and write such excellent English? Honestly Baba did not know how to read or write Bengali - something we children were never made to be aware of. Somehow Ma would cover it up and read whatever was written in Bengali - a letter or paper or whatever. Baba would pretend he did not have his glasses and Ma then would read it out without a comment.  

NOSTALGIC MOMENTS

OM MANI PADME HUM - I heard this mantra while working in Ladakh in 1989. At the resort we had a tailor-on-the-site named Paljor, who used to say this mantra quite often. He taught me that they say this mantra while touching the legs, belly, chest and head to give it the full respect. Now I understand the mantra reminds us that God resides in all of us, all over the physical body. The body is like the lotus, blooming in the muddy water without being affected by its surroundings. Our body is a lotus which should be completely untouched by our surroundings. Any and every onslaught must slide off us without making a dent in our minds or hearts. Stay pure and untouched in our worldly lives; bloom as God wants us to and stay concentrated on our maker. Work, live, love but without any attachments; just do your worldly duties with sincerity. No better way to love God and Paljor knew much before my educated self could know or understand.

WOMEN'S DAY
The first time I became aware of International Women's Day was when I was working for the Polish Consulate in Calcutta in 82-83. I was the Receptionist-cum-special secretary for the Consul General Mr. Jan Folta. Naturally the job involved some confidential activities, cannot be disclosed. On the 8th of March morning as I was just settling down, in walks Mr.Folta with a bunch of flowers. Giving me the flowers he says - "Happy Women's Day!" I shall never forget that day. Honestly I had no idea about such a day. I was thrilled that this senior (in age and position) should care to wish me so lovingly. Mrs. Folta was another superb lady. She arranged the whole library in the consulate, was very much into books. And she was a very motherly person. Yes the day was quite a celebration at the consulate office - no doubt.
Now I wonder are we not women on the rest of other days? Are we not teachers except on Teacher's Day? Not mothers or fathers except on the day of celebration? Of course, we are! I guess these special days remind everyone that such personalities are around you and make your life more special. Be aware! Remember and felicitate them everyday of your life. After all, can we do without father, mother, teacher and woman in this world? No. So celebrate everyday and know all of us together make a whole team. That team wins always. Cheers! Love you.

The following I had written and posted on facebook in 2013. Just copying it to my personal blog.

 25 Baishakh is not very far away and I just felt like sharing some memories. Please bear with me. Thank you.

Earliest memories

I remember dressing up as a South Indian lass in ghagra borrowed from my classmate, Vidya, who lived above us at 10 Lake Avenue, Calcutta - 26. This was sometime when I was 4 or 5 years old. We were studying in St. Mary’s Carmel School, which has been renamed Carmel High School.

I remember a water truck cruising our road early in the morning, while a man went around washing the street with the help of a long hose pipe. I remember the gas-man coming every evening and early morning with his bamboo ladder – evenings he would climb up the ladder pressed against each lamp-post and light the street lights. His morning round was to extinguish the gas lamps scaling the same ladder.

I remember our first phone number was 46-5149; then it was 42-1719 and the last one was 464-6618.

I remember every year on dada’s birthday Baba got the British High Commission crew to set up a giant screen at home and show the latest English movies suitable for kids. My birthday brought the magic show crew. I distinctly remember in one of these shows the magician took Chhunu mashi's ring and took it out from one of the many oranges in the fruit basket. Amazing!

I remember visiting my mother in the hospital when my younger sister was born – I was 7 and dada was 8 years old then, respectively. We played truant pulling at the raw baby skin on Buri’s body and wondered why it was like this, when sure enough a nurse spied us and reprimanded us duly. We indulged in this innocent action while our parents were busy talking to each other. Naughty!

I remember when dada learnt the word ‘bloody bastard’ from his school friends at St. Xavier’s and called me the same during a fight. Buri by that time was able to utter baby words and make sounds and the little one picked up this word smoothly. Best part us when she kept on repeating ‘buddy basket’ while Baba came back from office. Obviously he was curious to know what new word his little baby had learnt for the day and Ma said she could not pronounce it but may be he should ask dada. And of course, there was hell to pay as the story unfolded, okay?

I remember receiving birthday card from Baba, who was in England at that time on my 8th birthday. It had a little girl standing among different farm animals like, chicken, pink pigs, mooing cows etc and saying “I am eight” within the figure “8”. I had treasured it for years and then lost it on the way growing up.
 I remember Santosh Sengupta, George Biswas, and some other popular Rabindra Sangeet singers coming over to our house some evenings with a harmonium. Hours of joyous Rabindra Sangeet singing would follow; my parents would join in at times. I also remember Minu Pishi and Baby Pishi and Tutu Pishi and Tara Pishi joining the singing group quite often. I loved it when Minu Pishi sang the song “Padaprante rakho sheboke” – there was something ethereal about her voice. Of course, I understood the particular quality when I grew up. Years later Baba brought home an organ and said “This is for you, Tutu. You must practice to play it and sing too.” I hardly did either as I was always aware of my tuneless voice – but Ma made up for it. She would sit at the organ every evening at six and sing and play for at least an hour. Yes with Baba, Haren Jethu, dada and me standing or sitting behind her and giving her company. Brahmo samaj culture!

Talking about Brahmo samaj, I know we never had any altar or puja room in our home, as is usual in most Indian homes. However, I have yet to come across more noble, moral, ethical, honest, truthful, harmless, disciplined and God-loving individuals like my parents. In my 60 years of living on this earth I have traveled far and wide in India, interacted with innumerable people – both young and old, been to temples and churches and gurudwaras and met some highly religious people. This is not meant to offend anyone, yet I must say none of them can hold a candle to my parents. Period.

P.S.
I wonder whether all 60-year olds go through such nostalgic experiences or is it only me?

The following is a recent facebook post. The centre was named Doyen India Academy and it operated under the NACA (National Association of Civil Aviation) guidelines. I had even designed the logo fro the academy - an earthen lamp with "dia" written across. Somehow it was not approved by the concerned authorities in Aligarh. Nazeem Ali, from Bulundshahar, was its owner. He was a young man who had great visions and dreamed of a progressive society. Wonder where he has reached today. Wish him all the best in life.
I remember end of 2007 and first half of 2008 I was looking after a aviation training centre in Aligarh. Yes I was also training the students. Most of them were from agricultural backgrounds and their fathers/brothers had sold land to pay for the fees. Because they were convinced by the big dream of flying. I used to give them tips of how to master a language and what to listen to on the TV and radio to enhance their skills, but at the same time I insisted on being real and face reality. I am thankful to God that most of my students are doing very well in life today. I am also thrilled by the news that electricity will be provided for nothing less than 18 hours to some rural areas. I know how some of you suffered and could not be in touch with the world because if your area was not favouring Mayawati it was doomed. Darkness was your companion throughout from evening to morning. Neerja Gaur, Faraz Zakir, Praveen, Rakshi Fatima and all of you there love you dear children. You make me feel so happy that you all are doing good. God bless you all.

NATIONAL LIBRARY CALCUTTA - THE PRICELESS STOREHOUSE OF KNOWLEDGE

The above page and the one below seems a description of the Amarnath Shivlinga and cave. 

The National Library in Calcutta hosts a zillion books, most probably. This book published in 1874 is still there but is gradually becoming dinner for book termites. The pages are so brittle that one has to be careful even when lifting a page to turn it because a piece of this priceless document can come off and be lodged between your fingers. I just took a few pictures of some pages that seemed relevant to my search and rest I took notes and took down names of other books and writers mentioned here.
The library is a vast building and each room could be easily turned into a badminton court if not a tennis court. The Reading Room is a sprawling area and sufficiently so with a broad spiraling staircase going up to another vast open area and then glass doors to certain rooms of the officials.
The Lending Room, where one has to submit a form and then pay a small sum as deposit is opposite the Reading Room and walking up to the counter does not seem to end. So you submit the form at one end of the room and then go to the other end to pay the deposit. Now here I had to wait for more than forty five minutes just to get a receipt for my deposit. It seems the person who has to sign the paper (sitting upstairs somewhere) was not available.   Ultimately when I did get the receipt, I had to go to the first counter and then I was asked to follow a lady further into this huge room (more or less bare) behind a glass partition, where I was asked to sign and then take my lending card. Whew! After all this I was thrilled that I would be able to take atleast two books home. I was looking forward to a few days of quiet and cosy reading time at home. That was not to be. The book shown here and other books could not be loaned, as these are out of prints. That too I had to carry the desired book/s from the Reading Room to the Lending Room first counter, to be told - "No". So carry the books to a table suitable enough to read such brittle books and search what could be most important and relevant pages and jot down them on a form which needs to be filled up and signed by an official in the Reading Room and then to be counter-signed by another official sitting upstairs. So I go up the spiral stairs search for this person's room, get it signed and then take the lift down stairs to walk up the vast space to the Reading Room and my designated table. These pictures are a result of that exercise.
These books cannot be xeroxed and they have not yet been scanned and digitalised into a compact file. Even if they were, it would be another long-drawn exercise of going up and down and across vast spaces a number of times before the scanned copy could be in your hands., I had that experience once when we got the certified copy of the whole book - Holy Kailas by Buddha Bose. Scanning is allowed for one-third part of the book, and so is the rule with getting a xerox done. Holy Kailas was given a special permission because Buddha Bose was my son's grandfather and the book is out of print. I haven't yet written about how and when I got these books in my hand. Though everything is supposed to be computerised, unfortunately the computer does not work inside the library; so you have to search manually for every book you wish to read. But that is fun because it is a hands-on experience; however, waiting for the asked-for books to be fished out from some den underground (?) is nerve-wracking. It can take 45 minutes, as they say, or could take hours. What is worse is that after waiting for nearly half a day, the answer comes as - "sorry, book not found." This happened when I issued a requirement for the "Dehradun" by A. Ross. At the end of the day I get to know that the book cannot be found. This book is not available anywhere.
Why am I making an issue out of my library experience? Simply because I would much rather get my book asap and spend ample time reading it. I found I spend more time searching for any book and then issuing a requirement and then waiting for the book to materialise from the library archives. I search for books to do some research of my own and I am sure anyone who is searching and researching needs more time with the books.
I really and sincerely wish that the National Library in Calcutta would be more efficient by being wholly computerised at the earliest. Also please scan these types of books before they succumb to mites and rats. These books contain so much of actual facts pertaining to the terrain, culture, community, roads etc that a whole history can evolve out of them. Written by foreigners does not mean they are irrelevant; strip off the British deign from the descriptions and get to the core - you have a gem. I am still waiting for the Indian Affairs written by Frederick John Shore. Yes I found out it is available on amazon site but the price is steep.
And this I am talking about the new building, Bhasha Bhavan. I used to go to the old building in the mid 70s, which is now under some renovation and refurbishing to be turned into a heritage building, as I heard. The work has been going on for quite sometime.
Yes, National Library is a storehouse of knowledge. Please some one take note and do everything possible to preserve the priceless contents of the library. I asked for the Patanjali and when it was issued I found that I was the first person to have asked for it ever since it came into the library! I wish I had taken a snapshot of the page.
This is a storehouse that even Google cannot compete with. 

Writing expedition in India

18 December, 2010
Hello to all Scribble-ing team mates.  First I must congratulate Neha for choosing such a unique name – Scribble for us!  Just what we all do, only now on the computer and this scribbling fetches money. Amazing!

Honestly, I’ve been balking at the idea of introducing myself to you all.  58 years of living on this planet and I still feel there is so much to know and learn.  Yet I see all you young people are so accomplished and talented in such a short time. Cheers to you all!

I am from a Brahmo Samaj background, studied in a convent in Calcutta, played hockey, marbles, guli-danda with my late brother and his friends.  I was pretty quick with a meccano set but never played with dolls.  So I made it a point to give dolls to my daughters – they enjoyed taking off the hands, legs and eyes and if possible the mouth too, just to see where is it talking from!?  My sons have been less devastatingly inquisitive.

My first major job was as a cabin crew in an airline.  I loved and still love flying, but life teaches you to reset your priorities all the time.  The most important thing in my life has been my kids for the past several years now.  Recently my designation changed to “grandmother” - I have 3 granddaughters.  They are delightful, pesky, utterly innocent in their mischief and so adorable.  I am also “mother” to a 3 year-old Labrador – a darling and a pest.

My parents taught me to learn any language properly and as a result my essays in Bengali, Hindi or English were posted on the school board, quite often.  I never took it seriously then but I understand now.  Reading aloud “The Statesman” every morning was a religious ritual we kids had to observe.  I detest newspapers nowadays – revolting news. 

I have travelled a lot due to my work with hotels and resorts.  I enjoyed most when I was posted in the jungles of Nepal and MP and the best when in Leh, Ladakh. 

I enjoy good food (sweets), good music (both now and past), getting to know people; am passionate about yoga and am blessed with the capacity to cure many ailments through yoga, love spirituality

A journey of just about 25 years with George Shalom

George Shalom said a swift bye-bye on 25th January 2010 at his place of work. The doctor said he died of heart attack but did not know a thing. He just slipped away, painlessly. This was in Jamta village, Himachal Pradesh, where both of us had more or less settled to pass the rest of our lives. Seven years down the line I am still passing my life, sometimes in Delhi, sometimes in Calcutta. 7th April 2010 would have been 25 years of married life with him. We got married in 1985 on that date. It was sunday in Calcutta and before presenting ourselves before the marriage registrar, George thought why not go to the church and get blessings.. We landed up at St.Paul's Cathedral and George said - no. This is a protestant church, We need to go to a Catholic church. I am a catholic. In the rush and excitement I totally forgot about my school church _ St.Marys'. So it was just the registrar.

One thing I remember George said when we got married - "We will rough it out." I liked the sound of it - pretty romantic. anyway life was quite rough and adventurous as it is with my 3 kids and striving to keep a balance. 

George was not a perfect person - none of us are. He was a package of everything included. The highlight of this marriage was that I got a taste of a normal married life, albeit for a few years. Yes, I was the homemaker, looking after home and hearth while George went out to earn the goodies. He even celebrated the kids' birthdays in the most homely manner. He cooked well, arranged games for the children, sang and played along with them in the parties. Looking back it was not so bad. Thursdays were his off days and we would all go to the market. But before that, he would scrub the children clean and give them a bath. and always would say - see how dirty your children are - you don't even look after them properly. Hahaha! this routine continued even after Kuki was born. We soon had dogs and thursdays were great days for them too. Fresh meat and other goodies daddy would get for them!!!!

Educational awareness in Himachal. I was even allowed to watch live classes taking place even though I was just a visitor!

Leaving behind a small village in Himachal on my solitary tour after George's death. I found the Village Pradhan was a lady. Wish she was around I would have taken her photo.

The view from my Jamta balcony.

George with our first grandchild. On her first birthday, 28 February, 2009.

But it was not hunky-dory for me. Imagine looking after 3 growing kids and a baby and 3 dogs. We could not afford to hire help. But we managed. It was a rough and tumble life-style but there was fun, too. Most often on thursday evenings we all played throw-ball or net ball within the compound. Big advantage living inside the Club.

Icecream (Shib Shekhar), Vimto(Pavitra), Pussycat(Clara) in front of the little house we lived in Tarnaka, Secunderabad. These three musketeers used to have a whale of a time running around in the open.

Kuki (Sharon) came into our lives in 1986 and became quite the darling of the family. This is in Secunderabad Club house. 

G

In Delhi in Sarah's house. Sarah in the middle, me in left and my two girls - Pussycat and Kuki.

George gave me a great friend in the form of his elder sister, Sarah. She was a marvellous sister-in-law. All women would love to have such a sister-in-law. Sarah taught for donkeys' years in Springdale School, New Delhi. She was very liberal in her views and quite a champion for women's causes. And she loved her brother very much but did not falter to give him a mouthful when he misbehaved with me. We often came to Delhi and stayed with her in her small flat. It always used to be a big party, except when she had her students coming over for tuition. Even the dog had to keep silent. We were either shunted out of the house to the near by park or loitered in the attached terrace. But a couple of hours later it used to turn into a madhouse, full of love and cheer. Sarah's 2 daughters were just about the age of my boys, so the kids got along very well. Her husband, Trilochan was a great buddy to George. Their best togetherness was sharing a bottle or two. Hahaha! But they had a long history together, as all of them grew up in Connaught Place area.

Aurangabad, Maya apartments. Relaxing after a birthday party of one of my kids.
That is Kuki resting her head on  my lap. 

We lived for a few months in a barsati in West Delhi in 2002. Pussycat curled up on the charpai. I am the laughing mother.

Our first car bought on 9th September 2004. The credit goes entirely to Pussycat. She dared to take loan and buy this Maruti 800 AC. Of course, we were all working then. Here she seems worried if Vimto will let her drive it!!!!

Our flat in Defence Officers Apartment in Dwarka, Delhi. Vimto busy watching TV. Pussy and Kuki just came back from a shopping spree.

Hadimba Devi in Manali. This deity is brought in a palanquin to the place of festivity in this state.It was such an occasion at the hotel where we worked in Manali. 

Vimto with guest, Sunil Shetty (film star) at Ambassador's in Aurangabad.

Manali

Secunderabad Club

I remember this day because it was not only Kuki's 2nd birthday but also I got full marks in my first exam of COBOL at NIIT in Hyderabad! And yes I fortunately found the same type of dresses for both the girls with matching shoes. It can turn into a nightmare with one girl's birthday and the other being seemingly ignored.

George relaxing in the Spa section which materialised with his enterprising efforts. At GrandView Resorts, Jamta, Himachal Pradesh.

George you loved hotels and admitted you knew nothing but hotel. You simply excelled in your hotel jobs. I still have some of the letters written by guests who got a taste of your hospitality in the different hotels you worked in. People from far and near, all across the globe. You did good in your service life. And see you died with your 'boots on' - very fortunate. Even at the age of 63-64 you held on to your job and worked diligently. You loved Jamta and you were buried there. The same spot where you used to take Lucky for his walks. As if, it was pre-determined. And the whole village assembled to go along with your coffin down the hill proved how much the local people loved you. Your ten years in Jamta created a solid bond between you and them. Bless your soul. If possible look out for our daughters - Pussycat and Kuki. They could do with some added blessing from a father. Cheers!

Jamta, oil massage for one of my grand daughters.

From my balcony in Jamta. This car is carrying the new bride, who will be carried up the mountain in a palanquin, behind me.

George and I once went on a tour and visited this important temple. 2009.

Jamta house, Vimto relaxing on one of his visits.

George saw these two grand children from Haryana.

And saw this grandchild from Bombay.

George did not see this grandchild, who arrived on the 22nd of December 2016.

The day Vimnto, Kuki, Kuldeep were about to drive back home to Delhi and Haryana after the final services for George. 2010. I stayed back with Icecream, who stayed back for a few more days before going back to work.


I am a total dud. Could not straighten some of the pictures. Will try later.