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.