21-03-2019, 12:34 PM
(This post was last modified: 21-03-2019, 12:34 PM by Ramesh_Rocky.)
He looked up and signalled me to join him. The tea was still warm and exuding the aroma that I was getting accustomed to. I waited for him to say something.
"Meher, we will visit the college today. Many of my father's colleagues are still there. There is something I want to show you." Imran said.
I was intrigued, "When?" I asked.
"In an hour's time." He said.
Manirul mian came and today I was much more open to him. The lunch menu was decided quickly and I took a bath and got ready. Imran had already finished with his bath. Manirul mian served us with a typical local breakfast comprising of 'litti, ghugni and khaja'. I was familiar with the food but in his hands, it tasted absolutely delectable.
We walked down to the college that was about a mile away. There was not much traffic and I enjoyed the walk. Imran appeared a bit preoccupied and answered in 'yes and no's'. Soon, we reached the college gate. Though the gate was closed and a 'Durwan' was standing. The gatekeeper faintly smiled at us and opened the gate.
Imran stood facing the creamish yellow building that extended widely on both the sides. I could see a large assembly area on the right and an equally large football ground on the right. The roads were gravelled and lined with bricks alternately coloured with 'geru and chuna' (red and white) and well-manicured hedges all around. Students were moving purposefully, deeply absorbed in their work. Everything inside appeared to be knit in a discipline that was ever encompassing but did not scare away.
He gently guided me inside through the foyer which was reminiscent of a combination of Indo-British style. There were pictures of students who had done the college proud of their achievements. Imran pointed out a picture of a boy in a tie and strict haircut. Written under it was 'I. Dasgupta; 1982-89'. As I looked at it carefully, I realised that I was looking at Imran, very different from what he was now.
'I. Dasgupta' was another surprise because I always thought that Imran was only 'Imran' without any prefix or suffix.
The Principal's office was at the end of the corridor that had a swing door. A young man was sitting on a stool. As we were about to enter, he momentarily got up and sat down again to allow us entry. The room was full of books and trophies. The pieces of furniture were all wooden and large. A white-haired gentleman sat on a high-backed chair. Seeing us enter, he quickly rose and came around to greet us. Though old, he was not feeble and his eyes twinkled with intelligence. Imran touched his feet and he hugged Imran for a long time. I too touched his feet and he turned his full attention towards me and said brightly, "Imran, this must be your wife. She is such a charming lady. Congratulations." Imran introduced me to him as Meherunissa and the old man for a moment became thoughtful. He recovered quickly and said in a jovial tone, "Ah! Very apt name indeed. Very apt."
He motioned us to sit and spoke to me in a kind benevolent voice. I felt like a student all over again.
"Dear Meherunissa, Imran has been one the brightest student that our college has seen. He has been a worthy son to his father Indra and of course his mother, Kiana. I have never seen such a brave woman in my life. My association with Indra was only for three years but his enthusiasm, knowledge and love for his students was simply unparalleled. And similarly, his students would do anything for him. But mind you, they never did anything wrong. A lot of people were motivated by him and to date so many are following his directions. His life was snuffed out along with two others that remain irreplaceable. I am so happy that you both have come here. It's a proud moment for all of us."
Then he looked a bit embarrassed and said, "Age is catching up and my tendencies to ramble has also increased. Please pardon me. Let me take you around, young lady."
I was getting spellbound by his easy lilting speech that I took some to react. All three of us walked through the corridors of the institution that was replete with history. It was mesmerising. It was impossible to gauge how massive the college was from the front. He took us through the classes, the hostel and the various places like the music room, art room and so on. It did not take me long to realise that the intense dedication and modern thinking of the resident faculty, away from the distractions of a city had done wonders. Indeed, boys were made into men of substance here.
At the end, we came back to the front porch. He took us to a shaded area surrounded by a hedge of hibiscus and a 'Bakul' tree laden with flowers. There was a simple flat platform of white marble and an inscription. It read:
Indranath, Amaya, and Ardeshir.
You gave your lives so that others could live.
15 Jan 1980
End of Pt.6
"Meher, we will visit the college today. Many of my father's colleagues are still there. There is something I want to show you." Imran said.
I was intrigued, "When?" I asked.
"In an hour's time." He said.
Manirul mian came and today I was much more open to him. The lunch menu was decided quickly and I took a bath and got ready. Imran had already finished with his bath. Manirul mian served us with a typical local breakfast comprising of 'litti, ghugni and khaja'. I was familiar with the food but in his hands, it tasted absolutely delectable.
We walked down to the college that was about a mile away. There was not much traffic and I enjoyed the walk. Imran appeared a bit preoccupied and answered in 'yes and no's'. Soon, we reached the college gate. Though the gate was closed and a 'Durwan' was standing. The gatekeeper faintly smiled at us and opened the gate.
Imran stood facing the creamish yellow building that extended widely on both the sides. I could see a large assembly area on the right and an equally large football ground on the right. The roads were gravelled and lined with bricks alternately coloured with 'geru and chuna' (red and white) and well-manicured hedges all around. Students were moving purposefully, deeply absorbed in their work. Everything inside appeared to be knit in a discipline that was ever encompassing but did not scare away.
He gently guided me inside through the foyer which was reminiscent of a combination of Indo-British style. There were pictures of students who had done the college proud of their achievements. Imran pointed out a picture of a boy in a tie and strict haircut. Written under it was 'I. Dasgupta; 1982-89'. As I looked at it carefully, I realised that I was looking at Imran, very different from what he was now.
'I. Dasgupta' was another surprise because I always thought that Imran was only 'Imran' without any prefix or suffix.
The Principal's office was at the end of the corridor that had a swing door. A young man was sitting on a stool. As we were about to enter, he momentarily got up and sat down again to allow us entry. The room was full of books and trophies. The pieces of furniture were all wooden and large. A white-haired gentleman sat on a high-backed chair. Seeing us enter, he quickly rose and came around to greet us. Though old, he was not feeble and his eyes twinkled with intelligence. Imran touched his feet and he hugged Imran for a long time. I too touched his feet and he turned his full attention towards me and said brightly, "Imran, this must be your wife. She is such a charming lady. Congratulations." Imran introduced me to him as Meherunissa and the old man for a moment became thoughtful. He recovered quickly and said in a jovial tone, "Ah! Very apt name indeed. Very apt."
He motioned us to sit and spoke to me in a kind benevolent voice. I felt like a student all over again.
"Dear Meherunissa, Imran has been one the brightest student that our college has seen. He has been a worthy son to his father Indra and of course his mother, Kiana. I have never seen such a brave woman in my life. My association with Indra was only for three years but his enthusiasm, knowledge and love for his students was simply unparalleled. And similarly, his students would do anything for him. But mind you, they never did anything wrong. A lot of people were motivated by him and to date so many are following his directions. His life was snuffed out along with two others that remain irreplaceable. I am so happy that you both have come here. It's a proud moment for all of us."
Then he looked a bit embarrassed and said, "Age is catching up and my tendencies to ramble has also increased. Please pardon me. Let me take you around, young lady."
I was getting spellbound by his easy lilting speech that I took some to react. All three of us walked through the corridors of the institution that was replete with history. It was mesmerising. It was impossible to gauge how massive the college was from the front. He took us through the classes, the hostel and the various places like the music room, art room and so on. It did not take me long to realise that the intense dedication and modern thinking of the resident faculty, away from the distractions of a city had done wonders. Indeed, boys were made into men of substance here.
At the end, we came back to the front porch. He took us to a shaded area surrounded by a hedge of hibiscus and a 'Bakul' tree laden with flowers. There was a simple flat platform of white marble and an inscription. It read:
Indranath, Amaya, and Ardeshir.
You gave your lives so that others could live.
15 Jan 1980
End of Pt.6
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