People & Memories

“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 had no idea that George W Bush had chosen to accompany me to Rome during the weekend — en-route to Albania from his G-8 conference in Germany. This gentleman seems to excite agitationists all over the world, and Italians are, even without much provocation, a rather excitable lot. Thus the city of St. Peter was now in the hands of protestors and the Italian government felt that the situation was so serious that the normal police would be unable to handle it. Hence, one was treated to a very rare spectacle of witnessing the smart, semi-military crack force, the carabinieri on real time prowl all over Rome — in their dark blue macho uniforms and their threatening rifles and pistols. Girls, both turisti and local drooled over those handsome hunks that were straining to impress them with their crackling walky- talkies.

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. 

You take a good look at yourself in the mirror, comb in hand. Set down forcefully that obstinate bunch of hair sticking out rebelliously. That is right. Just fine. The trousers need a bit of pressing but will do for the day. So, all set, you pick up that exercise book, tuck in the pen on to your vest, under the shirt and come down the stairs on to the streets of Ray’s ‘Mahanagar’ Calcutta.