Support Elders member General Shankar Roy Chowdhury (PVSM, ADC), former Chief of Staff of the Indian Army, talks about 15th August 1947.
Let me start with the 16th August 1946, in Bengal… I ...
Support Elders member General Shankar Roy Chowdhury (PVSM, ADC), former Chief of Staff of the Indian Army, talks about 15th August 1947.
Let me start with the 16th August 1946, in Bengal… I was very young and lived in South Calcutta, Ballygunge, more towards Hazra. When you moved out of Ballygunge and went towards Park Circus—that was a ‘No Go’ area. The army used to patrol; barricades had been put up. It was as good as a different city. Hindus could not go that side and the Muslims could not come this side. I remember there was a lot of tension. If we went up to our rooftops, we would see the city lit up with fires. The area found the young chaps, older than me of course, forming little local protection forces, these protection forces moved around with lathis and spears etc., just in case we were attacked. You could hear mobs shouting, no matter where you lived in the city.
I recall being in Calcutta on the 15th August 1947. What I remember of 15th August 1947 is pretty unique. All the old Muslim areas in central Calcutta, places like Park Circus, Narkeldanga, College Street, Kidderpore, etc. were totally ‘No Go’ areas. We never went that side. I remember on the 15th of August, I don’t know how, but everyone decided that we should go out—now that India was an independent country. We should go out and meet everyone in the city and celebrate. So, we all got into a lorry. We were driven around and I remember going by Ballygunge Circular Road, Lower Circular Road, Loudon Street and Rawdon Street (it was the area where the British used to stay). There was a lot of police movement but they let us pass and then we entered Park Circus. There were crowds of people there. The Muslims came forward and we embraced each other and they were throwing ether (Itar) (rose water). I had never seen anything like it.
I was very young then. We then went into areas that we had never visited before. St Xavier’s in Park St was more or less the dividing line. I was in St Xavier’s School then. We would enter St Xavier’s from Short Street. Anyway, we went everywhere. All the places we had never visited, like Metro Cinema, Wellesley Street, Dharamtala, Esplanade, etc. And roamed around those places so freely. Some people were inter-mingling. It was a beautiful sight and feeling. The whole thing felt different. It was like a switch had been turned on. People were so happy. It was a feeling that was most wonderful. It was a tremendous thing. The memory of that day will probably bring tears to the eyes of the people who were there then.
From that day onwards, we have not stopped growing. We have other problems today. We have political problems—in fact political problems are re-introducing some of the factors that were present at that time. Even a kind of communal feeling at times! But at the same time, I have no doubt that India has grown a lot and that is what makes me very happy and proud. I think we have come to terms with ourselves in the sense that we express ourselves very freely, you can see it every night on television. We are a strong country now and there is a spirit of cheerfulness that we are progressing. Of course, there are obstacles and there is still lots to be done but we have come a long way, a very long way.
Everyone, including Sir Winston Churchill, said that India would not last after the British leave. But we have lasted for 70 years now and we are going to last for another, God willing, two centuries and more.
You see, we are a new India. I do not agree with the people who think and say that we are regressing. Yes, we have new problems but the big thing is we are one nation and we have succeeded in remaining one nation in spite of many problems, which would have broken up many other nations. We are doing well and moving forward. It is a great feeling watching India move forward since that day (15th August 1947).
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The Silver Circle travelling group arranged a day trip to Malancha, a guest house near Gandhi Ghat in Barrackpore. We went there on 9th April 2016. Our TSC co-ordinator (Mr Supratik Gupta) took care of everything. In fact, the venue was his suggestion—he had gone there once and showed us photos. After seeing those pictures, we decided to go there.
It was a nice place beside the Ganges. The guesthouse was very good. The first thing that We saw was a nicely maintained boat. We learnt that it was the same boat by which the first sepoy of the Sepoy Mutiny, Mangal Pandey, had come there. He reached there by that boat, so the ghat is called Mangal Pandey Ghat. Barrackpore is the place from where the Sepoy Mutiny started. So, it has major historical significance as well.
The guesthouse is maintained by the government. It is very neat and clean. It has around 15 rooms—A/C & Non A/C. There is a jetty just beside the guesthouse.
One can enjoy the sight of River Ganga flowing by while eating. The service is also good. We reached there at about 10 a.m. and spent the whole day there. We had breakfast and lunch there. The food was good and service was very cordial. Though it was a very hot day, the trip to and fro was very comfortable in the AC Tempo Traveller arranged by Mr Gupta.
In the afternoon, after a sumptuous lunch, we spent a good time relaxing and indulging in great adda. It was so refreshing to hear such wonderful travel stories and insightful tales. In the evening, we were mesmerized by the radiant beauty of the sun setting on the Ganges. It was fantastic. Some of us took photographs of the setting sun. But photographs cannot always capture the magic of the moment; you had to be there to enjoy this beautiful sight.
After having our evening tea, we started on our way back. I liked the place very much. It was a nice outing and I want to go there once again and stay there at least for a day to thoroughly enjoy the sight of the river flowing by and the sun setting on it.
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A granddaughter’s love shines through as she regales us with a few lighter moments of her grandfather’s long stint in the Indian Navy. Read to find out about such ...
A granddaughter’s love shines through as she regales us with a few lighter moments of her grandfather’s long stint in the Indian Navy. Read to find out about such moments in the life of our member, Commodore Subrata Bose.
By Roshni Srimany
As a Naval Officer, my grandfather, Commodore Subrata Bose, has had many memorable, and often amusing experiences. One of these was when he was posted onboard a hydrographic ship called “Investigator” as a sub-lieutenant. On joining the ship, he was in for a pleasant surprise—he found a baby deer onboard.
The “Investigator” had been, at that time, surveying an area around the Gujarat coast, around the Rann of Kutch, where there were a lot of deer. The ship owned jeeps, and whenever it anchored, people onboard moved on land in these jeeps. One night, the second-in-command of the ship came across a baby deer standing in the light given off by the headlights of the jeep. Its mother was nowhere to be seen and so he picked it up, and from then on, that baby deer was his. Aptly named Bambi, it would follow the officers around on the ship, and it went wherever they went. Bambi was almost never seasick, and adapted wonderfully to the ship’s environment. Whenever a party was thrown onboard, Bambi was the centre of attention. The friendly little deer happily roamed about all over the ship and had a particular affinity for champagne and potato chips. Sadly, the second-in-command of the “Investigator” tok Bambi with him when he was transferred to another ship.
Of the many trips made abroad, another memorable incident took place when my grandfather had been stationed on the INS Amba. They had worked very hard in Russia, and the three months of hard work had worn them out. On the way home, they docked at Casablanca. At that time of the year, most jetsetting Europeans used to make their way there, and it was, therefore, a booming town, brimming with a variety of enterntainment. It is a tradition of the Indian Navy to entertain, whenever they dock at a foreign port, the local who’s-who, including the mayor of the town. INS Amba, too, hosted a party, which was attended by many Moroccan and French officers. They decided to go and see a cabaret show for they wanted to see what belly dancing was like. Therefore, they asked the Indian Ambassador to suggest a nightclub, and he happily agreed to drop them off at the best nightclub in town, after the party was over.
On arriving at the nighclub, they saw that there were a number of shows taking place—firebreathers, and so on. Finally, the lights dimmed, and Arabic music came on. A belly dancer appeared, clad in the belly dancer’s traditional costume. She went around the tables, dancing, particularly teasing men who had ladies accompanying them, in order to embarrass them. Suddenly, they saw her coming to their table. She began dancing in front of the youngest officer, and plonked herself on his lap, causing him to blush, and the others to laugh heartily. When she got up, my grandfather promptly moved his chair away, as he didn’t want her to do the same to him. She noticed that, and suddenly he realised that she was dancing very close to the chair. Before he could do anything, she tipped his chair over with her hip, and he went flying across the dance floor, causing the entire room to roar with laughter. Then she danced over to him, and asked him if he was hurt, to which he replied, “Only my ego is!”
My grandfather sportingly asked the belly dancer to join them for a drink, to which she agreed. After her show was over, she sat at their table, chatting with them. She asked each of them where they were from, and when my grandfather said that he was from the eastern part of India—from Calcutta, she immediately recognised the name and said, “Tagore? Rabindranath Tagore?’’ His jaw dropped at the fact that a belly dancer in Morocco knew about Tagore, and he was floored for the second time that night!
Here were a few lighter moments in my grandfather’s long stint in the Indian Navy. On a serious note, his most memorable experience was completing the Cadet and Midshipman’s Course, and then being commissioned on 1st July, 1957, as a sub-lieutenant.
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Pritha Banerjee gives her take on the role elders play in her life.
Grandparents are our best friends when we experience the realm of childhood. It’s undeniable. ...
Pritha Banerjee gives her take on the role elders play in her life.
Grandparents are our best friends when we experience the realm of childhood. It’s undeniable. Grandparents make us aware of the real apprehension and consciousness through their vast terra firma of wisdom and experience. My grandparents are unique in their own ways, and their stories are what made me master the management of little things like family, friends and neighbours. There are ample materialistic views prevailing in the society today, but the real affection can only be unveiled if we disburse some precious time to these souls, without whom we may not have learnt to walk, talk or sleep.
My grandparents are coming from a rich background of history, music, art and culture. My great great grandfather is Kshirode Prasad Vidyabinod, evergreen for Alibaba. The story endures, abides in our hearts and are accentuated various times. But, the actual taste of Alibaba can only be heard in the nooks and corners of the vintage Nandalal Bose Lane in Bagbazar, where my grandma opens up her heart to the songs and my grandpa nods along merrily. Our family, being one full of heritage, is simply divine with music, and obviously retro. Rabindrasangeet from my grandmom is something that can never leave my spirit, it remains everlasting with the voice sweeter than honey even at the age of seventy.
My grandpa is a doctor, an Army physician, a soul churner, a music enthusiast, a lover of food and huge family adda parties. Nothing makes him smack his lips more than the taste of Bati Chochori, Shukto, Chingri Bhape, Kosha Mangsho and Macher Jhal from my grandma. And believe me, they are absolutely blissful. Energetic and vivacious as ever, he used to return from his clinic and tell me to sing. He helped me pass in Mathematics and gave me the inspiration needed to build an intellect as strong and redundant as him.
Here’s a glimpse of all the privileges I get as their granddaughter:-
History – The mere glimpse of our ancient Harmonium, several Gitobitans, a graduate certificate of Rabindrabharati and photos of my grandmother singing give me a feel of eternity. It is as if the songs are freshly written every day, the books are newly bind and the song is just sung. The old radio, the cassettes and those huge gramophones where we patiently sat to listen to Aurangzeb. God! My grandfather’s certificates of honour from the army, his beautiful coat which is carefully kept and the photos of his young times, really brings along a feeling undefinable. The fact that 1932 was his birth year and he experienced the independence first hand, is something I will always cherish.
Skills – Well, unfortunately I never learnt sewing from my grandmom ( I don’t want to, right now at least!) but yes, cooking, baking, farming, all I owe to that lady! The various times I cheated on my school assignments just so she would do it for me and in return I would give her a new book to read. The give and take was never equal but she didn’t mind and I didn’t pester. Cleaning, using old tools, reusing things and careful storage are all the generous gifts of that old lady. My grandpa cannot help but make me an enhanced academian. Mathematics, physics and songs! Thanks for that!
Adda and Torko – A part of my everyday routine, a day without the jukti -torkobagish nature oozing out of my mouth, is a day wasted. My grandpa was the sole participant here along with me, but he patiently listened to my opinions as well. He never ever complained, never once became impatient. Just he would keep saying (and still does!) ” Amar shathe boshle tor porashona ar hobe ne bole dilum”. Well, who wants studies to disrupt when there is so much to express your opinions about and listen more to!
Family History – The pandemonium of old age! The family history is a bonus along with your package with this family. Every time a new subject comes up my grandma goes “Amar ma na …” “Janish to tor shejdadu o kintu erokom chilo” “Organ ta bajiye ei gan amake omuk shale ma omuk dine shiniyechilen” and the scornful look from my grandpa follows.
Food!!! – Endless! My personal favorite – everything along with pulao and mangsho, payesh. Chingrir malaikari, echorer torkari, kochu, murighonto, oler poshto, aluposto, telebhaja, alu kabli! And so many! My grandpa was a step behind. He specialised in all the “chops” – Mangsher chop, mangsher shingara, alur chop, macher chop, dimer chop and his signature scrambled egg, french fries and omelette! Delectable.
Books – God! The libraries of my city will hide their faces in shame if our collection of books is ever laid out! Classics, Rabindranath, Shankha Ghosh, Troilokkonath, Satyajit, Sukumar, Upendrokishor, Shorodindu to all those with almost no strength left in them. Still they are all readable, and they still pass the hands of this generation. Nobody should challenge us in the field of books!
Emotional Support – Broke down after school? Had a fight with friends? Had a fight with parents? Had a fight with yourself?Losing the morality of life? Can’t figure out what to do? Don’t know what to eat? Don’t know where the key is? Weather too gloomy? Come to the humble abode of your grandparents and see all the problems fade away!
The best part is when I listen to their random talks and seek to know more from what they have seen life as. Although, most of the times I get too impatient, careless and amateurish with them, but I know I understand them like no one ever did. Yes, teaching them to use a mobile is next to impossible, making them understand the usage of internet, skype and Facebook is impossible but there’s no harm in trying! After all, they taught you how to use a spoon for god’s sake!
They always gave what felt right, they shared everything, they were unbiased, they were unprecedented, they saved from habits that harm, they taught me to work hard, they saved me from my mother’s beatings and father’s scoldings, they provided all the money whenever I had a secret guilt-free wish!
Now,since it’s my time to reflect on what I can give them. There’s nothing much that I can do in this aspect but yes, I am young enough to say that love is the ultimate gift to all those grey-haired people who are near and dear to you. Spend your best time with them, get them the endearment they so deserve, teach them to be patient with new gadgets, cook with them, read with them. But, please, don’t put them in a home! It is the biggest mistake depriving both the grandparents and their grandkids to savor the time that parents fail to provide. Only 15 years of friendship has given me so much to be proud of. Just because they are old it doesn’t mean they aren’t our parents. Namma Dadu, you are god given and a well wisher for life. You know I won’t take a step if you don’t approve of it. You know I can’t get enough of your tenderness, disposition and discernment. You are vital for my life, you are always young. There is nothing abnormal in spending more time with your grandparents than your parents purposefully.
We live in a society that opposes aging, in spite of the evidence that each of us is, in fact, are aging. This anti-aging bias has prevented us from thinking about old age in a way that feels good or that will create a good elderhood.
Go say that you love them, because I tell them every day! For me, it’s quite unimaginable to see them being ill-treated. Any person who is outside wandering about helplessly should be taken in. My grandparents will always be my responsibility, it can never get neglected. It should never occur that a child is brought in this world to enable a new exploiting personality to increase in this already contaminated globe. There should be no sad memories till the last breath for people so special and priceless. We give them so less yet we regret all the times we lost. So, act now. Go speak up. Because:-
To me – old age is always ten years younger than I am.
- Bernard Baruch
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Aparajita Dutta, who describes herself as "an author by passion", writes about how her uncle shaped her creativity and even the person she is today.
He smiled ...
Aparajita Dutta, who describes herself as "an author by passion", writes about how her uncle shaped her creativity and even the person she is today.
He smiled at me, rays of love, emanating from his phlegmatic face, a love which inspired me to paint my words in different languages. Like every Bengali child, I was acquainted with the book, Thakumar Jhuli, a collection of Bangla fairy tales. But for me, jyatha’s stories were much more interesting than the princes, Lal Kamal and Nil Kamal. He too had such princes, but I at that time, was too naive to understand the source of attraction. Later, as I look back, I find my own fantasies, embedded in them, as he coloured my childhood with imagination, embedding fables in my subconscious heart.
A bearded man, a smiling face, and a soul full of stories … that’s how I remember him, sitting on his chair, always going through one dictionary or the other. As I look at the dedication page of my own M.Phil thesis, I ponder: is this at all a worthy dedication to the man who shaped my childhood, who taught me to struggle in his most creative of ways and above all, who taught me to be passionate and shower love upon everyone? Perhaps, not. Perhaps it’s just a beginning to help him live when he left his physical body eight years back. I would not call it a luck but a blessing to have someone like my jyatha ( uncle) in my life who treated me like his own daughter, his ebullience, still wiping away my tears whenever I miss his presence. A hedgling in her sweet sixteen, I was too young when he left me alone in his books and creations for childhood memories are all I have now.
A poetry for an occasion, a story with characters who became my friends and role models… he would weave my childhood fantasies with values he wanted to imbibe in me, and carry forward when it would be time for him to leave this world. A translator and a writer, jyatha was just like another normal human being to me, always greeting me with a smile, an act I learnt as I grew up. The smile would be like his constant companion as I watched him working in the night before the publication of his books. The joy of working allured me, the mesmerising beauty of living the passion, to give the readers the best of oneself brightened his weary face as I looked with awe, hoping someday too, I will become a human being like him, and a writer perhaps. I don’t remember using the exact term ‘writer’, ‘translator’ or a ‘human being’ as a child. I would rather say, ‘ ami jyathar moto hote chai’ ( I want to be like jyatha). For me, he embodied a human being, a passionate translator and a writer.
Looking at the theories of translation in my M.Phil course work, I felt like I knew their essence a long ago, I understood what they meant even before I became aware of the existence of a whole field called ‘Translation Studies’. Often as I would crawl up to him and demand to tell me what he was doing, jyatha would tell me about the mysteries of languages he was working on, as he translated, instilling a love for knowing them and while I saw many of my convent educated snobbish friends bragging about not understanding Bangla, I read Bangla and English books extensively. Jyatha would allow me to discover the books by myself, letting me freely explore his collection, as if they were just mine. Not for a single moment did he complain against the sorry state of translators and writers in India, not for a second did he make me feel that the struggle is futile; these are the things which I later learned, after I decided to find him in his works, in translation studies.
Growing up would have been different had it not been for the man who waved his wand of creativity and made even the hardest of philosophies easy to understand, from my love for pets which he nurtured by telling me stories of Joy Adamson and her pet lion, Elsa, to becoming a diligent woman, jyatha gave hues to my wings. Losing my way in the lanes of memories, I am reminded of a few beggars who would visit our house regularly and jyatha would offer them help, in cash or kind. Sufficing my curiosity, he would tell me about the abject poverty they live in, something which I still remember, something which inspired me to devote my free time in social work.
My life would have been different had he still been alive to see me following his path, with his ideals as weapons to fight against the odds. But am I too late to do anything for him? My M.Phil thesis looks at me and strikes off the dilemma. Working on translation, fighting for translator’s rights, helping out people in whatever ways I can would have made him happy and perhaps he would have wanted this too… a better future for writers, translators and everyone, perhaps he would have wanted to see smiling faces of everyone around him. It’s not too late, after all. I look forward to my translation projects and the events of my NGOs. And when darkness falls, I look at the sky and find a smiling star. I know, he is there, watching. I know, a day will come when hundreds of people will say that I am his worthy niece. He’s alive, in his works, in my tributes!!
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