When BOSS indulges in bosh

When I look back now, after nearly a decade, to the days when I
was in college and leaf through my memories, I succeed in retrieving
only a fraction. I still do remember most of the names of the Professors
and Lecturers who taught us. Of them, I still fondly remember our Physics
teacher, who was indeed a very unique teacher. And among his many qualities,
his quaint way of speaking English still provides me with some moments of
lightness amidst my dreary routine mundane existence.

It was my first year in college. The year was 1983. We
were just freshers in college, and so quite expectedly, was enjoying
the initial relaxed atmosphere. The intricacies of the world of Physics,
Chemistry and Mathematics was still away from us.

Out of these three subjects, I held a particular fascination
for Physics. Physics always intrigued me and I thought that one day, I will
be a Newton, Neil Bohr, Satyendranath Bose or an Einstein. It is another matter that it never
happened that way. However, our Physics teacher, a respectable man in his
field, caught our fancy, both for his erudition as well as his foibles.

In this piece, I have concentrated mostly on his foibles,
which provided some humorous moments ( no malice intended), and would like
to share some of these with my readers. And so, I begin…

After a few days of classes, we arrived at a unit of scientific
experiments. He started explaining to us about the experiment. He
began his sentence thus “Take a piece of water.” 

At this utterance some students at the back benches
chuckled. This infuriated our teacher. Angrily, he shouted “Last bench,
don’t laugh. If you laugh, I will make last bench first bench.” (It seemed
our Physics teacher has a penchant for using conjunctions)
He also had a habit of eliminating words from
every sentence and such sentences became incomprehensible at times.
He was taking our class on one windy day. He had already
closed the Entrance/Exit door. All of a sudden, he turned towards
the last bench  and ordered “Close the door. Air force coming” (He
obviously meant the window, since there was only one door which was
closed. Air force implied a gusty wind was blowing outside)

In one of his classes, the atmosphere had become quite
claustrophobic. He was badly gasping for some fresh air. He came up with
”Open the window. Let the atmosphere from outside come in” 
One fine day, he was taking the class on Motion from
General Physics. While explaining terms like speed and velocity,
he said “Gentlemen, speed is the latest fashion. You may have the
 notion that clothes or hip-dressing is the latest trend, yet
in reality nowadays speed is the latest fashion. And it is there
 to stay.” Without fully comprehending the significance of his
statement then, we looked with amazement at his erudition.

As we progressed with General Physics, the unit on Projectiles came
up. That day, he said he will narrate a story as to why he considered our
scientists the best in the world. His story ran like this. “The American
scientists was about to launch a satellite into space from their cosmodrome.
All have assembled at the launching pad, and the rocket is to be shot to
outer space. Just at this juncture, when everything is ready, and
the necessary commands initiated to set off the rocket, it remained
static. The American scientists were panic stricken. Try as they might,
yet all efforts to get it started proved in vain. Soon, expert
scientists from across the world was called to help out in this crisis
situation. Yet no scientist was successful. Scientists from Russia,
UK, France, Germany and elsewhere, all proved failures. Finally, it was
the turn of one Indian ‘Sardar’ scientist. He just took a look at the
rocket, tilted it one way and then the other, and just kicked the
rocket. And lo, it started. All scientists was amazed at the genius
level of our scientist. (when asked the secret how he went about
his troubleshooting job, he said Indians are accustomed to their
machine being thrown out of gear regularly. For example, Indian
kick — start scooters rarely start when we kick it the first time.
We have to tilt the scooter this way and that, kick it a number of times,
before it actually starts off. I applied the same principle in this
case.”

Soon, our first year classes came to an end. We did fairly well
in his paper. We were lucky to meet him again in second year. He was
assigned to teach us Modern Physics.
One day, he was taking the unit on Atomic Physics. While
discussing cosmic rays, he told us “Cosmic rays are coming to our
 planet from a very distant place. It is still coming, coming, coming”
By now he was excited, and was using his hand as indicator to demonstrate
how cosmic rays reached us. One mischievous back — bencher was mimicking
him all along. Suddenly, he sighted him. The student was then closing his
palm, as if to conceal something. He blurted out “Look, look, look at that
 stupid fellow (indicating the back — bencher). He is trying to catch
 cosmic rays.”

An interesting incident happened one day. He was trying to get
the attention of a pretty girl in class. The girl could sense this. Suddenly,
in the electrical connection outlet of our class, there was a huge spark. Out
came a repartee from the girl “The circuit must have choked due to your
magnetic personality.”

Our teacher’s appellation was Mr A. K. Biswas. He has his name type
written at the door of his room. One mischievous Bengali student added the
words “koro na” (Translated, it would mean don’t trust Mr A. K. Biswas)
Inspite of all such occasional pranks, our Physics teacher was really
dear to us. He used to regale us in class with his lessons and jibes,
and his lectures were never boring. They, interspersed with intermittent
bungling of sentences like “Value putting answer getting,” “if it is be the
case,” “Viscosity will come tomorrow” etc. etc. , always helped to keep me in
a jovial mood for the rest of the day. Even now, at times.

A couple of years back, I bumped into him suddenly one day. He is
leading a retired life now. He still has an elephantine memory, and
asked me about my classmates who were in his class, and what they
were doing. I found that he still retains his humour, and age hasn’t
withered him down. He invited me to his place, which I couldn’t decline.
I discovered several unknown facts/traits about him, which I will
write in another piece shortly.

A FACE IN THE CROWD

 

”Molly-di, isn’t your phone no. 3354578?,” he asked.
Really his gift at recalling incidents, birthdays and phone numbers
of people he knew or came in contact with amazed me. People
call me a brilliant student, but when he rattles off facts and figures,
with uncanny accuracy, I envy him his talent.

He led a simple life. Not for him the routine existence that we endure
or put up with. His mother was his source of inspiration and constant
companion. His father, an illustrious figure, died a few years back.
Since then he and his mother were the only occupants of the house, and
they shared the joys and sorrows, faced the ups and downs of life
together.

They had visitors throughout the day. Chandan-mamu, Anuva-pisi,
Gablu-da     and several other relatives dropped in frequently, inquiring about
their     health and making them feel wanted. That was a great solace to them.
Ah! I didn’t tell you his name. People call him Rana, I call him
Rana-da.

Rana-da had a habit of getting up early. After brushing, he would sit
down    with the morning newspaper and a cup of tea. He regularly read
THE STATESMAN in the morning. It was a routine rarely broken. I don’t
know    whether his comprehension of the contents of the newspaper was total,
but he could recall the major news items without much difficulty.

“Rana, don’t waste your entire day reading papers. Help me in filling
    up the buckets in our bathroom,” his mother would generally interrupt.
He would do what he has been told and on completion, he would rest
for a while. Then he would sip another cup of tea. He would
drink it in one sip and leave the house.

His destination was the adjacent by-lane next to his house. A number
of small boys could be seen playing cricket, football or kabaddi
regularly. Most of these boys were school drop-outs; the rest had never
been to school. Some of them had played truant. Rana-da was quite
popular   there. All the boys knew him, and enjoyed chatting with him. Their
conversation covered a gamut of issues touching sports, films, music;
rarely ever politics. After whiling away an hour or two in this way, he
would return home around noon.   His afternoon routine would include  bathing, lunch, gossip with     his mother and then a nap. He would get up in  the evening,   have tea, circle his neighbourhood to keep himself abreast of the
changes taking place and exchanging greetings with almost everyone     he knew, and  returning  home late in the evening. Watching television     and talking with visitors who invariably turned up by the dozens would
fill the time till dinner. He would take dinner and retire for the day.

That was his normal daily routine.

Many people call Rana-da insane. On many occasions, he behaves
strangely. He would hurl things around in all directions,
break cups and dishes and do all sorts of crazy things. Perhaps
it was just in anger, because his rage would soon melt down
and he would be normal again.

Good things don’t last for ever.  Soon, tragedy struck. His mother fell
ill. Slowly but gradually, she grew weak and bed-ridden.

“God is calling me,” she would tell her son. At this, Rana-da would
remain silent and tenderly tried to comfort her.
After fighting valiantly with her ailment for two years, she eventually
succumbed. She passed away leaving Rana-da all alone.

Not exactly. Rana-da has an elder brother. He tried to take
Rana-da along with him to live in his mansion after the demise of
their mother. But Rana-da was adamant.

   “I will not leave our  ancestral house. My mother is
    still living in this house with me,” he told his brother.

At these statements of his, people became doubly sure that he
had indeed lost his sanity.
Years passed. Gradually, Rana-da recuperated.
But, adversity struck again. One day while returning after his morning
adda sessions, he met with an accident. Two youths, who were riding
a motor-cycle, rammed him from the rear and he hit the road instantly.
He was severely wounded. Blood flowed profusely from the wounds. A
crowd     gathered almost instantly. Some people who knew him immediately carried
Rana-da to the hospital.

Thank God, he survived!!

I went to pay Rana-da a visit in the hospital. Doctor had advised
not to speak and strain himself. When Rana-da saw me, he gave me a big
smile. I noticed that Rana-da’s elder brother and his wife were
also present there.

After a while, I had picked up a conversation with the wife of
Rana-da’s     brother. She was a very affable lady. During the course of our
conversation, she told me several facts about Rana-da I didn’t knew.
Said she, “Rana was a perfect normal child. He was an extremely
    brilliant student. He had a good academic record. When he was
    doing his Ph.D in physics, he had a confrontation with his guide.
    His guide exploited him to the hilt. Rana-da worked hard and produced
    remarkable results, but his guide got those work published in his
    name. Moreover, his guide was delaying his Ph.D. Gradually, it began
    to affect Rana-da, and when even after ten years there seemed no way
    he could get his Doctorate, he stopped pursuing his degree and
    left studies completely. Soon, he began losing his mental balance.
    He found solace in his mother, and the supposedly spoilt and
    drop-out school kids with whom he plays in the morning everyday.”
After I returned home, I kept on pondering how a brilliant career
was thus spoilt, and that my own Rana-da certainly doesn’t deserve
the life he is leading now.

Rana-da was released from the hospital, but his life continues to
remain the same. He still lives alone in his ancestral house
wallowing in the memories of his mother, and playing with the kids
all of whom love him very dearly.

THE GIFT

An air of sadness tinged the atmosphere with gloom. When he regained his senses,
Polash found he was on his bed at his own house. His employees had
carried him there and doctors had advised him complete rest.

It all began when Polash suddenly discovered his innate ability one
fine day. Polash’s mother who had paid him a visit to Guwahati
where he served as a District Information Officer of National
Informatics Centre was leaving for Jalpaiguri after spending
the past couple of months with him. As the day of her departure drew near, the thought of separation from his Mother became unbearable for Polash.
The train was to start off any minute when Polash exclaimed, “Ma, don’t
go by this train. It will meet with an accident.”
His friends who accompanied him to the station were taken aback. They
ridiculed Polash but then somehow his mother paid heed and didn’t board the train.
What was it that gave him that premonition? For, as it turned out the train met with an accident resulting in heavy casualties. The wheels had skidded off the rails while the train was running at breakneck speed.
“Achha Polash, tui ki kore aage theke bolli train-ta
durghatona grosto hobe?” (Polash, how could you predict
that the train would meet with an accident?)
“Jani na Ma, kono aloukik shakti hobe” (Don’t know Ma, it
must be some supernatural power inside me).

It didn’t seem that Polash was kidding.
Gradually as the days went on Polash was able to predict future incidents with startling accuracy. Soon, his fame began spreading far and wide. From prime ministers to rich businessmen, the who’s who began visiting him to avail of his counsel.  Be it a possible nuclear attack or even a famine, Polash’s clairvoyance could save nations from peril. His fame reached its height when Time Magazine featured him as Personality of the Year.
As time went on he amassed a great deal of wealth through his counseling and prognoses. His wife and children lived in the lap of luxury, thanks to his earnings of astronomical sums. Polash opened a counseling centre where he offered his services at a price. On any given day there was a virtual riot outside his office as people were desperate to get a private audience with him. In order to satisfy his growing customer base he began to devote more hours to work, totally oblivious to the home front.
All his evenings were spent in the company of the elite and the powerful whose trust he had earned. Success had gone to his head as he began basking in his new found fame. He had no time for his childhood friends some of whom had helped him during his father’s terminal illness.
But then, strange are the ironies of fate when one fine morning fate struck a cruel blow. Polash was busy as usual at his office when he heard what was to change his life for good. Some goons had forcibly entered his house killing his security guard and eventually all his family members. The goons had decamped with all his wealth and belongings leaving behind an empty home.
Police probed the incident and was on the trail of the culprits but to no avail. No sooner had he heard the news than Polash’s world crumbled and he collapsed within minutes.

Adversity could be a double-edged sword. Polash found that his ability to delve into the future had disappeared all of a sudden. As inexplicably as his ability to predict future incidents. He didn’t know what was real or unreal as they merged into one chaotic whole.