I have always been driven by a dream_ the dream of making this magnificent world of ours a better place, by playing my part in it in the best way possible. I have genuinely believed in the greater power of a Superior Force shaping and guiding us along to our destiny. Almost all of us are capable of fulfilling our dreams only if we can set out heart and soul to it. We should never give up on our dreams without trying very hard and believing in the plans and designs the Superior Power has for each one of us.
There are times when I feel extremely sorry for my second brother, Lt.Dhiresh Chandra Bhattacharyya. He was, without an iota of doubt, a talented person per excellence. He could have gone miles and had all the accolades he truly deserved, only if had decided to listen to his heart and taken to writing at an early period of his life! He was, by the way, one of the youngest Headmasters of a High School in Kolkata in the early 70s and teaching was his first passion. Despite his talent in writing, it had to take the back-stage during the prime of his life as he whole-heartedly devoted himself to fulfilling all his duties and obligations as the Head at this period. It was only after retirement ( He must have realized by then that he did not have much time at his disposal), that he started writing vociferously. The three books he authored in a short span of time, were all brought out by Anand Publishers, one of the leading publishing houses in Bengal, and all three have been best-sellers since then.
The sudden demise of my second brother should have been an eye-opener of some sort for a lot of other talented people in the family. Anyway, without waiting for others for precedence, I have finally taken it upon myself, inspite of being the least qualified of them all, to give my dream a try and try writing about a very talented and special family of Bengal. A family known for its culture and learning, aspirations and insecurities, love, jealousy and rivalry. My greatest fear at this very moment is that in trying to write about my family, the Family of the Bhattacharyyas, I may hurt the feelings and sentiments of some people I love and respect. If that be the case, I offer my sincerest apologies to them at the onset and beg for their forgiveness.
Now to begin at the beginning, let me give a brief pen-portrait of my grandfather, Mahamohopadhyaya, Mahakobi, Padmabhushan,Pandit Haridas Siddhantabagish ( He had lots of other titles and how I wish I had asked my brother, who passed away last October for all those, to give the reader a feel of the true qualities of my late grandfather). Unfortunately, he left his earthly abode a few months after my birth, most probably having foreseen with the help of some divine interference, what kind of black sheep the latest arrival in the family was going to be! Therefore, I have no recollections of him whatsoever. Whatever indistinct, hazy memories I have of my grandfather, are all based on the thoughts, beliefs and opinions of others, mostly my siblings, have had about him. He was undoubtedly an unbelievably talented and charismatic man who spent the best part of his life translating The Mahabharata, one of the two Indian Epics from Sanskrit to Bengali. Naturally, I grew up amidst the dampness and squalor of hundreds and thousands of those yellowish copies all around me. Starting with the rack-shelves to the places in the Thakurghar ( the altar room ) to the space under and behind the chowki that served as a bed in the kitchen for one of my brothers.
I have heard it told that my grandfather was a pious Brahmin in the truest sense of the term and spent his time, from the wee hours in the morning till the evening, dedicating himself totally to his translatory works, some of which are taught till date at universities across India. One can see even today the rusty printing press at our ancestral home at 41, Deblane, in Kolkata, the palatial house he had bought once he became a household name during his time in Bengal.
His dedication and commitments are the staff folklores are made of. But long before that , when he was trying to make a name for himself as a struggling, Sanskrit scholar-aspirant, people must have realized the potential that lay hidden in him and even the great Tagore is said to have paid him a visit at his rented house at Suri Lane, soon after he was awarded the Padmabibhusahan.
My grandfather had four sons and most probably five daughters and my late father, Jogesh Chandra Bhattacharyya, was the third in line amongst all his offspring. He was, one of the most favourite children, if not the most favourite child of Haridas Siddhantabagish.
( To be continued … )
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