“Jakhan porbena more payer chinna aei bate,/ Ami baibona, ami
abibona mor kheya tori aei ghate …..”
That was Dhiresh Bhattacharyya, the
second son of Lt.J.C.Bhattacharyya, on a dusky afternoon, singing one of his
favourite songs composed by the great Tagore and melodiously sung by late
Hemanta Mukherjee. Sitting straight on the corridor near the thakurghar (the
altar room), impeccably dressed in white, with his hands loosely on the knees
set apart, there was an aura of vitality and positive energy about him. Not very far away from him, with a lost look
on the face his father, Lt.J.C.Bhattacharyya, reclining in the easy chair, was enjoying himself
listening to the song, his pride in his second son palpable.
Mejda,
Dhiresh Bhattacharyya, inherited many of baba’s physical attributes and
aesthetic tastes. Born a couple of years
after Barda, Debesh bhattacharya (1941), Mejda was a looker in the truest sense
of the term and had to work his way up.
After obtaining his M.A. in Bengali from Calcutta University, where he
displayed enough signs of his vast potential, he joined the esteemed David Hare
Training College in pursuit of fulfilling his dream of being a teacher, for the
sheer nobility of the profession and making a difference. He came out First Class First in the B.Ed.
Examination and soon afterwards joined Entally Academy, a school near our
ancestral home in Deblane. I had an inkling of his popularity by the time I was
admitted in standard-V of the institute in 1972. Students always listened to him with rapt attention and when he started explaining a passage or a line like : Amar sajano bagan sukiye gelo ( My blissful garden of years of hard work has started decaying), there were many a teary eye and they were literally prepared to eat out of
his hands. He soon left the school for a
better prospect and joined Brajanath Vidyapith in Tiljala as the youngest
Headmaster of the school. The school
witnessed unprecedented progress under his headship and his association with
the school continued till the very last days of his life.
The story
has it that during the Naxalite Movement, a radical movement against the
establishment that let loose a reign of terror in the late 60s in Bengal and
left hundreds and thousands of people, especially young men, tortured and
massacred both on the streets and in police custody, Mejda found himself in a tight corner one day with the local goons
standing outside the school gate, braying for his blood. On hearing that their
idol DB’s life was in danger, the senior students who were upstairs attending a
class, came running down and held guard of the gate, challenging them to try
laying a finger on Dhiresh Babu if they dared! Such was his charm that those local leaders later on
became Mejda’s bhaktas (admirers) and
trusted comrades.
But they
were not the only ones of his admirers, his good looks alongside his amicable
personality, had the same impact on all and sundry. Women, especially, swooned over one another
to be anywhere near his close proximity and simply could never have enough of
him. A very qualified lady of his time
Is said to have vowed not to marry anyone else and true to her vow, remained a life-long
spinster when Dhiresh Bhattacharyya got engaged in a wedlock with Mrs.Redha
Bhattacharjee, his sweetheart.
Mejda was a
versatile talent, an orator per excellence, he could recite any of the poems
written by Tagore at the drop of a hat and leave the listeners spell-bound in
the process ( Grame, grame barta rate gelo krome,/ Maitra Mashai jaben sagar sangame
…….The news has spread far and wide that Mr Maitra is on his way to the confluence
of the seas, deserves a special mention in this context). He was equally at ease in narrating the
stories.
It pains me
no ends that I could not get to understand mejda, the aesthetic, the cultured
personality that he was during his lifetime. By working on the Hindu epic, The
Mahabharata, just like his grandfather, Haridas Siddhantabagish, had done
earlier, he was recreating and reviving the glorious past of India and the good
old days of Indian culture and heritage. He had hardly begun to enjoy his first taste of success and stardom with the publication of his first book Nayak Judhirsthir and his next two well-researched and well-received books in quick succession, when he was called back to his heavenly abode , in February,2010.
I will
always remember Mejda proudly showing me around his newly-purchased house in
Tiljala, when we had interrupted him amidst his heroic endeavour:” Look over there, Swagata, that is the mango
tree I planted. It bore fruits last year.
I even sent a couple of them to Ma. Look
at the tagar tree at the corner. It is a sight when in full bloom..” And this is what sums up the essence of the
man for me and separates him from a whole lot of people I know. A man simple at
heart with a generous nature and a superlative zeal for life. Notwithstanding everything else, all his other qualities, to this
day, he is fondly remembered as an extraordinary teacher of Bengali Language
and Literature. His oratory skills, his passion for, prowess of, and above all,
his pride in teaching will have ensured him a place among the great teachers of
Bengal, God willing.
[The last
seven days have been the most hectic and topsy-turvy in my life so far. I started writing about The Bhattacharyyas
of 41, Deblane, mainly with two objectives in mind;
1. I wanted to find out for myself if I could
write cohesively for a period of time, say, for a minimum of seven days at a
go. Considering the fact that till
recently I was happy penning one story in 3 to 4 months, despite my New Year’s
Resolution of writing at least 50 stories this year. I haven’t done
badly at all. I have achieved my first
objective somewhat.
2. I wanted to have an entry into the
Writers’ World, get a taste of their mind-set and the workings of their minds. Their
feelings and emotions, hopes and aspirations, troubles and traumas, failures
and frustrations, and finally the enviable sense of achievement in the end. I
have had, in my limited ways, a glimpse of that world.
Therefore, I have rightfully earned myself a break. Let me end by
translating the quote at the start, with a request to you all, to keep a little
space in your heart for Mejda and, if possible, for Yours Truly as well;
When my footprints are lost in the Sands of Time,
And I shall be ferrying across the
river-bank for one last time …]Here is wishing you all the best. Till we meet again, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
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