Memoir। স্মৃতিকথা

As a normal human being who prefers not to jog or climb unless compelled to, it was rather foolhardy to agree to my wife’s persuasion to visit Amaranth. Once trapped, I did a bit of reading and panicked when I learnt that it is one of the most strenuous treks, with unnecessary exertions.

My first recollection of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman is imbedded in my mind, as it was also my first brush with the law. It was in January 1969, a month after I had appeared for my class 11 School Board examination, that my political 'mentor' decided that we must join a protest outside the Pakistani High Commissioner's office to demand the release of Sheikh saheb from jail. Who? Sashanka Sekhar Ray explained the Agartala Conspiracy Case and how the Pak government had put Sheik Mujib behind bars for two long years.

The year was 1967. I had joined Class X, in the Humanities Section, with an enviable track record of standing last or second last in every class from VI onward. The crowning glory was my failure to pass Class VIII, followed by my close shaves in my second year in the same class as well as in the next class, when I studied Science in the ‘Higher Secondary’ stream, where one had to fight all the time. The other ‘feathers’ in my cap were the several warnings received for ‘poor conduct’, mischief and misbehavior. In other words, I was declared an ideal bad student when I joined, not without trepidation, the first day in my new class.

“Life was solitary, poor, nasty,” droned the professor on a hot, lazy afternoon when the body clocks of most students signalled that it was time for a lovely surreptitious siesta, without actually dozing off on to the next guy’s shoulder. This was sometime in my first year at Presidency, when I was being introduced to the wondrous possibilities of how the State had emerged in history.

I came across a photograph of Pandit Nehru sitting on a simple wooden bed, covered with a frugal white sheet and a few batik spreads, and a couple of pillows strewn behind and beside him. There were no crowds on the dais, which was obviously during the Convocation of Visva Bharati in (1954), and while the Upacharya, who was at the right corner of the photo, delivered his address over an ancient microphone, Panditji looked straight at the audience.