If you have referred to my blog of late you would have noticed that, on the 17th of October, I had written about our two-months' sojourn in North America in the months of July and August of this year. What I had not mentioned was the fact that my idyllic holiday in the balmy summer days in Ajax, Ontario, Canada had been stirred very violently by the arrival of a telling piece of bad news.
Much as I am loathe to remain "connected" during holidays, I did have to borrow my daughter's laptop on occasions to keep up with the Jones! Peer pressure, I suppose. At any rate, on one such occasion, I was shocked to learn from a mail from my dear friend Sudas that the inimitable, irrepressible and irreproachable Somesh of our youthful years, was no more!
This was shocking! I was dumb-struck with disbelief! Although Somesh had been ailing for many years now - he had not quite recovered fully from a cerebral attack of many years' standing - it was still inconceivable to me that he had gone, never to come back. I was overcome with a feeling of deep sadness, coupled with extreme remorse, at this terrible loss. I felt sad for obvious reasons. But I also felt remorse that I had not been able to stay as much in touch with him as I would have liked, despite my best intentions. And now it was too late to repair the damage! I can easily exonerate myself by saying that I live in New Delhi whereas he lived in Kolkata and hence the difficulty in keeping contact. But all that is hogwash in actual fact, isn't it?
After the initial crippling realisation, my mind meandered along the memory lanes and revisited the the years of almost half a century ago when Somesh came into my life, totally un-announced, and stayed put there like an obstinate limpet.
One day, in the winter of 1962 (I think) my college St. Xavier's played the annual cricket friendly with Presidency College on the latter's ground. Now, this annual match always drew a packed house for the simple reason that Presidency was one of only two or three colleges in Calcutta University which was co-educational. This was the cue for SXC boys to indulge in some wholesome bird-watching and, for the lucky few, may be score a hit or two ! Naturally, it was with alacrity that I accepted the invitation of my old school friend Sankar to spend the day in Presidency College, his college, ostensibly to cheer our team.
St. Xavier's College had an excellent cricket team those days. In contrast, Presidency, while being streets ahead in academics, was not that hot in sporting endeavours. On this particular day, as was to be expected, our team soon had Presidency in trouble while they were batting. At the fall of a wicket, I saw a boy walking in to bat and I turned round to Sankar and asked if this chap was a regular, because he didn't look as though he had ever held a cricket bat in his life. Shanks (that is what I had dubbed Sankar) said that this boy was not only a regular but was, apparently, quite good.
I kept my own council. This boy who was coming out to bat was of medium height, slight in built, wore glasses with a thick black frame, wore badly crumpled whites, and above all, the the buckle straps of his trousers were flapping in the breeze as he walked. His buckles were missing! On top of that he was chewing paan! Sacrilege! I remember I told Shanks that surely an "ABK" (ak baller khodder) was going to bat for his college!
Well. believe it or not, St. Xavier's lost that match and, to a great extent, the cause of the defeat was an immaculate and polished half-century from this boy in glasses! After the match, my childhood friend Jhunu introduced me to this amazing guy who was her classmate in History (Hons) and went by the name of Somesh Das Gupta.
This was the beginning of our relationship which grew steadily over the years till one day it had transformed into a reliable friendship. I remember that Jhunu had by then started seeing Robi (Mihir Deb) and was thus all wrapped up in her own affaire de couer. She was, therefore, not the catalyst of our friendship. In fact, the next time I saw Somesh was quite some time later in Shanks's home - casually, of an evening. Shanks's home, above Amrita Bastralaya on Rash Behari Avenue near Gariahat, had become a sort of den where guys dropped in most evening for adda.
In the beginning, I found it a little difficult to relate to Somesh. I had labelled him in my mind as a typical product of Presidency College - a paan-chewing pseudo-intellectual with a superior air, with a penchant for dropping names of Greek philosophers, English poets and European musicians!. The fact that he played cricket was the extenuating circumstance, which made me grudgingly accept him in our group of largely St. Xavier's boys.
Much later, I realised with utter dismay that, in his turn, he considered most of us, and particularly me, to be the usual anglicised, English speaking, ill-read, vacuous, skirt-chasing snobs!
Well, we began on that rocky start and moved on to a level where we spent a lot of time together, both at our homes and away. Our friendship really took off only after both of us were in our post-graduate years. By then Somesh had inevitably become an integral part of our gang, started by Shanks and me and headquartered at The Den above Amrita Bastralaya.
I have mentioned earlier that Somesh used to study History and , therefore, had his masters classes in the Asutosh Building in the main Calcutta University campus. On the other hand, I was pursuing my MA in Economics . Our department was in the Emerald Bowers, some eight miles away. The famous College Street Coffee House thus became the place where we ran into each other on most days.
One of the first things that I discovered about Somesh was his unique sense of humour. In fact, this comic side of him was very endearing. Once, when I congratulated him for a match-winning innings he had played, he told me with a solemn face that it was not his fault!
On another occasion, during a bus ride in which we were all crushed together on the footboard of the crowded bus he suddenly called out in a distorted voice " Sealdah Sealdah" when actually we had just reached the previous stop! Nobody noticed him saying this in the crowd. People assumed that it was the voice of the conductor! A whole lot of them pushed and shoved their way out of the bus in a hurry. Soon there was space and we promptly went inside and grabbed the vacant seats. Had we waited for Sealdah stop, our mission of grabbing seats may not have succeeded in the face of hordes of people who would have joined us in a huge rush!
Once my mother complimented him on a new pair of shoes he was wearing. He promptly told her that he had procured it at Rs 5.00 a kilo!
Somesh was one person who had absolutely no inhibitions whatsoever. He fancied himself as a folk-singer of some talent (which he was not!) and would burst into song at the drop of a hat strumming an imaginary guitar!
Once, four of us friends spent one month across Holi at my sister's place in Kalaikunda Air Force Station. My brother-in-law was in the IAF. On the day of Holi there was a big gathering of all officers and their families at the Officers' Mess. At my sister's insistance the four of us also joined the party. We chose to sit in one corner with young Flying Officer Subramaniam and enjoy his hospitality of the free flowing beer. The beer helped us to shelve our shyness to a great extent. Everyrhing was going on fine. The officers, wives and children were all having great fun.
Suddenly, the Station Commander suggested that we youngsters should also contribute by singing a song or two, maybe. At this, for Somesh to spring up and take centre-stage was the work of a moment. I suspect that he was a bit lit up by the beer. Nevertheless, there he was addressing the Station Commander directly to say that he was going to sing a Tagore song in the Beatles style. He called his fusion "Rabindrik Beatles!" And there he was, stomping his feet, strumming that famous imaginary guitar, face distorted, belting out "aa aa aakash bhora, su u urjo tara......" at the top of his voice! And mind you, he provided the sounds of the guitar accompaniment too!
Want to know what happened after he had finished? He got a thunderous applause from the gathering. The Station Commander even suggested that he give a repeat show on the next Mess Night! Mercifully we had to get back to Kolkata before this could come to fruition!
Once, some of us were taking a turn round the Dhakuria lakes when we spotted two girls sitting on a bench. I knew them to be sisters living across the street from us in Lake Gardens. Both of them were quite attractive and seemed to be of our age. Although we were neighbours, I had never actually met them. One of us suddenly had a brain wave (I forget who). Somesh was challenged to go and talk to the girls!
Like on that occasion in Kalaikunda Somesh was not the one to let grass grow under his feet. He was off in a flash and in no time, we saw him approach the bench, saw him saying something to the girls and soon was sitting down with them and chatting, looking quite comfortable! And to top it all, after ten minutes or so, they all got up together and started to walk away in the direction of Lake Gardens!
To say the least, I was alarmed. Should there be any unpleasantness (remember in the mid-60s Kolkata was not so liberal about "boy-meet-girl" in public) it would happen right in front of our house and my parents were quite likely to be a witness to it. And mind you, I had the sneaking suspicion that I would have to somehow take the rap because I was the youngster who lived opposite and Somesh was my friend!
We put our heads together and decided that the best thing would be to follow them and see what ensued. We did just that - and landed up in our street. We concluded that Somesh would see them off at their front door and try to join us again. But then Somesh was Somesh! To our horror we saw him go in with the girls through the front door which seemed to shut with a telltale bang! As far as we were concerned, that was that!
We went to our place, up to my bedroom and sat down to wait, always keeping an eye on that front door across the street. A lot of theorising went on amongst us as to what was taking place in the house opposite. Jams (the ininmitable) even went on to suggest that perhaps Somesh was receiving the pasting of his life from the girls' brothers right at that moment!
We were kept in suspense for the good part of an hour. Then we thought it best to go and investigate. So promptly Jams was nominated to go across the street and find out (he was the biggest amongst us after all!) When the two of them came back, much to our relief, Jams looked outraged while Somesh was quite unperturbed. In fact he kept waxing eloquent about the terrific shingara and cha that he had been offered and accepted with pleasure!
For all that, Somesh was an out and out extrovert. Sheer lack of inhibitions took him to places where we would have hesitated to venture into. And he was the eventual gainer. And, to be with him was always adventurous.
I cannot forget the bizzare week we once spent at his behest with a group of American "Project India" students. From attending charity events in the distant suburbs to attending inter-college fests (courtesy American University Centre) to hanging around with the bunch in their hotel in the Bohemian surrounds of Sudder Street!
And then there was the "Utopians". Since Calcutta University lacked any kind of compact and enclosed campus, it was very difficult for any student to interact with those of other colleges spread across the city. In order to try and solve this problem, a handful of us conceived this idea to form an association whose objective would be to bring the students of various colleges together on a regular basis. And, if I am not mistaken, the initial suggestion to name the group after Sir Thomas More's "Utopia", came from Somesh (or was it Ronen?). At any rate , Somesh became the first General Secretary of the Utopians.
His eccentric energy saw us organising a week-long Czech Film Festival, a similar Polish Film Festival and a series of inter-college exhibition debates within the first year itself. Most of us did the legwork, but it was Somesh who networked tirelessly with various Consulates, College Principals, media celebrities, the Police Department, Student Unions, etc to bring the "Utopians" considerable success and publicity. His "my dear fellow" kind of approach would invariably open many doors for us as a group.
Somesh was not just a fun guy. While on the one hand he was a good sportsman (cricket, table tennis) he was also well read, well versed in contemporary music and a true film buff! He even wrote poetry and had actually published a book of poems with the blessings of Prof Lal's Writers' Workshop. Add to that the fact that he was a good student and you pretty much have an all-rounder of considerable merit.
If he had a failing, it was a compelling desire to wear the sobriquet of "intellectual" on his sleeve. He did not have to. His multi-skills were evident to one and all. This was the reason that some guys would dub him a pseudo or "aantel" and give him a wide berth. I know, because I too had done that in the beginning. Luckily for me, I could see through the veneer of superiority he donned and discover the gem that lay deep inside.
Somesh was a guy who did not conform, for the sake of conforming. He had a mind of his own and knew what he wanted out of life. He pursued his own vocation in an age when competition was tough and jobs were hard to come by. Yes, he had to struggle a bit. He even sold hamburgers in New York to earn a living! But he came back and adopted the noblest of noble professions , that of a teacher. He was good at it, he loved it with a passion and he made a more-than-handsome living out of it. There was a time when he was financially far better off than the rest of us battling through corporate or government jobs. But one could never tell by interacting with him. That was Somesh.
As I reflect on this quirky ex-member of our gang and our association with him over the years, what readily comes to mind is the undying images of those two characters Ramalingam and Sundar Kaka
who had regaled us over the years courtesy Somesh Das Gupta. That all his claims towards the absolute authenticity of his storie were complete balderdash, I never had any doubt! Yet their exploits never failed to make his audience roll over with laughter.
After all these years, I cannot remember every story about them. But I do remember that Mister Ramalingam, along with some other people allegedly appeared at Fern Road ( where Somesh lived) at the crack of dawn one day to have their palms read by our friend - "Bhor belai shobey Forhans ti marisi, hatath chitkar, artonaad; dekhi Ramalingam in three-piece two piece suit with one piece tie, standing with fourteen madrassi couples with palms extended!"
On other occasions Mr. Ramalingam would wear Terylene shirts with Boroline pants! That is vintage Somesh for you once again! He was a master in this type nonsense humour.
Somesh always claimed that Sundar Kaka was one of his father's distant cousins.( He always referred to his father as Subodh as, indeed, he referred to my father as Sidhu and Shanks's father as Dhrubo!) Anyway, I always suspected that Sundar Kaka was a fictional one. This suspicion was reinforced by the fact I had never ever come across this mysterious uncle in my numerous visits to Fern Road!
Nevertheless, in no time, with considerable help from Somesh, Sundar Kaka had become widely known and popular amongst our friends and relatives. His travel tales were incredible! Who can forget his reaction to viewing Taj Mahal for the first time; "Taz on a moonlit night was a toussing sight from a passing train! Ki ze kabo. Money hoite silo zano akta raazbhog suspended in time!"
Or his recollection of Darjeeling: " lift er doroza khuila galo, aami hitkaiya bhitorey dhuklam. Tar por lift othey aami uthi, aami uthi lift othey! Hatath doroza abaar khuila galo. Aami hitkaiya sitkaiya gia porhtei dekhi, 14 peaks of Kansenzonga amaarey ditesey salute!"
I have absolutely no doubt whatsoever that all these gems were cococted by Somesh himself. He did give us a first hand experience of his ability to speak non-stop nonsense on the night of Jams's wedding when he, single-handedly, kept us all awake throughout the night with his tales of M/S Ramalingam and Sundar Kaka.
Despite this pronounced streak of the jester in him, Somesh was a serious fellow. He was an equally serious school teacher, husband, friend and well wisher with a large-sized heart. The abiding image of him is that of a lively countenace racked by raucous laughter.
Yes, Somesh had become my friend. He is the one who got me to play cricket for CUPG Calcutta University Post Graduates) in the 'versity knockout. It was his efforts that enabled me to play for Dalhousie Athletic Club in the CAB 1st Division League and it was him who accompanied me on many Saturdays (1966-67) to Mallikpur to play friendlies in a village surrounding.
Again it was he who initiated me into the activities of the American University Center, although I was already a member.
And also, typically, it was he who took me to Loreto College and introduced me to several girls he had befriended!
And it was him who would often visit our home when I was not around, just to keep my aging parents company.
R.I.P. Somesh Das Gupta. You brought many a smile to many a face in this life. Hope you are smiling happily for ever and ever.
Much as I am loathe to remain "connected" during holidays, I did have to borrow my daughter's laptop on occasions to keep up with the Jones! Peer pressure, I suppose. At any rate, on one such occasion, I was shocked to learn from a mail from my dear friend Sudas that the inimitable, irrepressible and irreproachable Somesh of our youthful years, was no more!
This was shocking! I was dumb-struck with disbelief! Although Somesh had been ailing for many years now - he had not quite recovered fully from a cerebral attack of many years' standing - it was still inconceivable to me that he had gone, never to come back. I was overcome with a feeling of deep sadness, coupled with extreme remorse, at this terrible loss. I felt sad for obvious reasons. But I also felt remorse that I had not been able to stay as much in touch with him as I would have liked, despite my best intentions. And now it was too late to repair the damage! I can easily exonerate myself by saying that I live in New Delhi whereas he lived in Kolkata and hence the difficulty in keeping contact. But all that is hogwash in actual fact, isn't it?
After the initial crippling realisation, my mind meandered along the memory lanes and revisited the the years of almost half a century ago when Somesh came into my life, totally un-announced, and stayed put there like an obstinate limpet.
One day, in the winter of 1962 (I think) my college St. Xavier's played the annual cricket friendly with Presidency College on the latter's ground. Now, this annual match always drew a packed house for the simple reason that Presidency was one of only two or three colleges in Calcutta University which was co-educational. This was the cue for SXC boys to indulge in some wholesome bird-watching and, for the lucky few, may be score a hit or two ! Naturally, it was with alacrity that I accepted the invitation of my old school friend Sankar to spend the day in Presidency College, his college, ostensibly to cheer our team.
St. Xavier's College had an excellent cricket team those days. In contrast, Presidency, while being streets ahead in academics, was not that hot in sporting endeavours. On this particular day, as was to be expected, our team soon had Presidency in trouble while they were batting. At the fall of a wicket, I saw a boy walking in to bat and I turned round to Sankar and asked if this chap was a regular, because he didn't look as though he had ever held a cricket bat in his life. Shanks (that is what I had dubbed Sankar) said that this boy was not only a regular but was, apparently, quite good.
I kept my own council. This boy who was coming out to bat was of medium height, slight in built, wore glasses with a thick black frame, wore badly crumpled whites, and above all, the the buckle straps of his trousers were flapping in the breeze as he walked. His buckles were missing! On top of that he was chewing paan! Sacrilege! I remember I told Shanks that surely an "ABK" (ak baller khodder) was going to bat for his college!
Well. believe it or not, St. Xavier's lost that match and, to a great extent, the cause of the defeat was an immaculate and polished half-century from this boy in glasses! After the match, my childhood friend Jhunu introduced me to this amazing guy who was her classmate in History (Hons) and went by the name of Somesh Das Gupta.
This was the beginning of our relationship which grew steadily over the years till one day it had transformed into a reliable friendship. I remember that Jhunu had by then started seeing Robi (Mihir Deb) and was thus all wrapped up in her own affaire de couer. She was, therefore, not the catalyst of our friendship. In fact, the next time I saw Somesh was quite some time later in Shanks's home - casually, of an evening. Shanks's home, above Amrita Bastralaya on Rash Behari Avenue near Gariahat, had become a sort of den where guys dropped in most evening for adda.
In the beginning, I found it a little difficult to relate to Somesh. I had labelled him in my mind as a typical product of Presidency College - a paan-chewing pseudo-intellectual with a superior air, with a penchant for dropping names of Greek philosophers, English poets and European musicians!. The fact that he played cricket was the extenuating circumstance, which made me grudgingly accept him in our group of largely St. Xavier's boys.
Much later, I realised with utter dismay that, in his turn, he considered most of us, and particularly me, to be the usual anglicised, English speaking, ill-read, vacuous, skirt-chasing snobs!
Well, we began on that rocky start and moved on to a level where we spent a lot of time together, both at our homes and away. Our friendship really took off only after both of us were in our post-graduate years. By then Somesh had inevitably become an integral part of our gang, started by Shanks and me and headquartered at The Den above Amrita Bastralaya.
I have mentioned earlier that Somesh used to study History and , therefore, had his masters classes in the Asutosh Building in the main Calcutta University campus. On the other hand, I was pursuing my MA in Economics . Our department was in the Emerald Bowers, some eight miles away. The famous College Street Coffee House thus became the place where we ran into each other on most days.
One of the first things that I discovered about Somesh was his unique sense of humour. In fact, this comic side of him was very endearing. Once, when I congratulated him for a match-winning innings he had played, he told me with a solemn face that it was not his fault!
On another occasion, during a bus ride in which we were all crushed together on the footboard of the crowded bus he suddenly called out in a distorted voice " Sealdah Sealdah" when actually we had just reached the previous stop! Nobody noticed him saying this in the crowd. People assumed that it was the voice of the conductor! A whole lot of them pushed and shoved their way out of the bus in a hurry. Soon there was space and we promptly went inside and grabbed the vacant seats. Had we waited for Sealdah stop, our mission of grabbing seats may not have succeeded in the face of hordes of people who would have joined us in a huge rush!
Once my mother complimented him on a new pair of shoes he was wearing. He promptly told her that he had procured it at Rs 5.00 a kilo!
Somesh was one person who had absolutely no inhibitions whatsoever. He fancied himself as a folk-singer of some talent (which he was not!) and would burst into song at the drop of a hat strumming an imaginary guitar!
Once, four of us friends spent one month across Holi at my sister's place in Kalaikunda Air Force Station. My brother-in-law was in the IAF. On the day of Holi there was a big gathering of all officers and their families at the Officers' Mess. At my sister's insistance the four of us also joined the party. We chose to sit in one corner with young Flying Officer Subramaniam and enjoy his hospitality of the free flowing beer. The beer helped us to shelve our shyness to a great extent. Everyrhing was going on fine. The officers, wives and children were all having great fun.
Suddenly, the Station Commander suggested that we youngsters should also contribute by singing a song or two, maybe. At this, for Somesh to spring up and take centre-stage was the work of a moment. I suspect that he was a bit lit up by the beer. Nevertheless, there he was addressing the Station Commander directly to say that he was going to sing a Tagore song in the Beatles style. He called his fusion "Rabindrik Beatles!" And there he was, stomping his feet, strumming that famous imaginary guitar, face distorted, belting out "aa aa aakash bhora, su u urjo tara......" at the top of his voice! And mind you, he provided the sounds of the guitar accompaniment too!
Want to know what happened after he had finished? He got a thunderous applause from the gathering. The Station Commander even suggested that he give a repeat show on the next Mess Night! Mercifully we had to get back to Kolkata before this could come to fruition!
Once, some of us were taking a turn round the Dhakuria lakes when we spotted two girls sitting on a bench. I knew them to be sisters living across the street from us in Lake Gardens. Both of them were quite attractive and seemed to be of our age. Although we were neighbours, I had never actually met them. One of us suddenly had a brain wave (I forget who). Somesh was challenged to go and talk to the girls!
Like on that occasion in Kalaikunda Somesh was not the one to let grass grow under his feet. He was off in a flash and in no time, we saw him approach the bench, saw him saying something to the girls and soon was sitting down with them and chatting, looking quite comfortable! And to top it all, after ten minutes or so, they all got up together and started to walk away in the direction of Lake Gardens!
To say the least, I was alarmed. Should there be any unpleasantness (remember in the mid-60s Kolkata was not so liberal about "boy-meet-girl" in public) it would happen right in front of our house and my parents were quite likely to be a witness to it. And mind you, I had the sneaking suspicion that I would have to somehow take the rap because I was the youngster who lived opposite and Somesh was my friend!
We put our heads together and decided that the best thing would be to follow them and see what ensued. We did just that - and landed up in our street. We concluded that Somesh would see them off at their front door and try to join us again. But then Somesh was Somesh! To our horror we saw him go in with the girls through the front door which seemed to shut with a telltale bang! As far as we were concerned, that was that!
We went to our place, up to my bedroom and sat down to wait, always keeping an eye on that front door across the street. A lot of theorising went on amongst us as to what was taking place in the house opposite. Jams (the ininmitable) even went on to suggest that perhaps Somesh was receiving the pasting of his life from the girls' brothers right at that moment!
We were kept in suspense for the good part of an hour. Then we thought it best to go and investigate. So promptly Jams was nominated to go across the street and find out (he was the biggest amongst us after all!) When the two of them came back, much to our relief, Jams looked outraged while Somesh was quite unperturbed. In fact he kept waxing eloquent about the terrific shingara and cha that he had been offered and accepted with pleasure!
For all that, Somesh was an out and out extrovert. Sheer lack of inhibitions took him to places where we would have hesitated to venture into. And he was the eventual gainer. And, to be with him was always adventurous.
I cannot forget the bizzare week we once spent at his behest with a group of American "Project India" students. From attending charity events in the distant suburbs to attending inter-college fests (courtesy American University Centre) to hanging around with the bunch in their hotel in the Bohemian surrounds of Sudder Street!
And then there was the "Utopians". Since Calcutta University lacked any kind of compact and enclosed campus, it was very difficult for any student to interact with those of other colleges spread across the city. In order to try and solve this problem, a handful of us conceived this idea to form an association whose objective would be to bring the students of various colleges together on a regular basis. And, if I am not mistaken, the initial suggestion to name the group after Sir Thomas More's "Utopia", came from Somesh (or was it Ronen?). At any rate , Somesh became the first General Secretary of the Utopians.
His eccentric energy saw us organising a week-long Czech Film Festival, a similar Polish Film Festival and a series of inter-college exhibition debates within the first year itself. Most of us did the legwork, but it was Somesh who networked tirelessly with various Consulates, College Principals, media celebrities, the Police Department, Student Unions, etc to bring the "Utopians" considerable success and publicity. His "my dear fellow" kind of approach would invariably open many doors for us as a group.
Somesh was not just a fun guy. While on the one hand he was a good sportsman (cricket, table tennis) he was also well read, well versed in contemporary music and a true film buff! He even wrote poetry and had actually published a book of poems with the blessings of Prof Lal's Writers' Workshop. Add to that the fact that he was a good student and you pretty much have an all-rounder of considerable merit.
If he had a failing, it was a compelling desire to wear the sobriquet of "intellectual" on his sleeve. He did not have to. His multi-skills were evident to one and all. This was the reason that some guys would dub him a pseudo or "aantel" and give him a wide berth. I know, because I too had done that in the beginning. Luckily for me, I could see through the veneer of superiority he donned and discover the gem that lay deep inside.
Somesh was a guy who did not conform, for the sake of conforming. He had a mind of his own and knew what he wanted out of life. He pursued his own vocation in an age when competition was tough and jobs were hard to come by. Yes, he had to struggle a bit. He even sold hamburgers in New York to earn a living! But he came back and adopted the noblest of noble professions , that of a teacher. He was good at it, he loved it with a passion and he made a more-than-handsome living out of it. There was a time when he was financially far better off than the rest of us battling through corporate or government jobs. But one could never tell by interacting with him. That was Somesh.
As I reflect on this quirky ex-member of our gang and our association with him over the years, what readily comes to mind is the undying images of those two characters Ramalingam and Sundar Kaka
who had regaled us over the years courtesy Somesh Das Gupta. That all his claims towards the absolute authenticity of his storie were complete balderdash, I never had any doubt! Yet their exploits never failed to make his audience roll over with laughter.
After all these years, I cannot remember every story about them. But I do remember that Mister Ramalingam, along with some other people allegedly appeared at Fern Road ( where Somesh lived) at the crack of dawn one day to have their palms read by our friend - "Bhor belai shobey Forhans ti marisi, hatath chitkar, artonaad; dekhi Ramalingam in three-piece two piece suit with one piece tie, standing with fourteen madrassi couples with palms extended!"
On other occasions Mr. Ramalingam would wear Terylene shirts with Boroline pants! That is vintage Somesh for you once again! He was a master in this type nonsense humour.
Somesh always claimed that Sundar Kaka was one of his father's distant cousins.( He always referred to his father as Subodh as, indeed, he referred to my father as Sidhu and Shanks's father as Dhrubo!) Anyway, I always suspected that Sundar Kaka was a fictional one. This suspicion was reinforced by the fact I had never ever come across this mysterious uncle in my numerous visits to Fern Road!
Nevertheless, in no time, with considerable help from Somesh, Sundar Kaka had become widely known and popular amongst our friends and relatives. His travel tales were incredible! Who can forget his reaction to viewing Taj Mahal for the first time; "Taz on a moonlit night was a toussing sight from a passing train! Ki ze kabo. Money hoite silo zano akta raazbhog suspended in time!"
Or his recollection of Darjeeling: " lift er doroza khuila galo, aami hitkaiya bhitorey dhuklam. Tar por lift othey aami uthi, aami uthi lift othey! Hatath doroza abaar khuila galo. Aami hitkaiya sitkaiya gia porhtei dekhi, 14 peaks of Kansenzonga amaarey ditesey salute!"
I have absolutely no doubt whatsoever that all these gems were cococted by Somesh himself. He did give us a first hand experience of his ability to speak non-stop nonsense on the night of Jams's wedding when he, single-handedly, kept us all awake throughout the night with his tales of M/S Ramalingam and Sundar Kaka.
Despite this pronounced streak of the jester in him, Somesh was a serious fellow. He was an equally serious school teacher, husband, friend and well wisher with a large-sized heart. The abiding image of him is that of a lively countenace racked by raucous laughter.
Yes, Somesh had become my friend. He is the one who got me to play cricket for CUPG Calcutta University Post Graduates) in the 'versity knockout. It was his efforts that enabled me to play for Dalhousie Athletic Club in the CAB 1st Division League and it was him who accompanied me on many Saturdays (1966-67) to Mallikpur to play friendlies in a village surrounding.
Again it was he who initiated me into the activities of the American University Center, although I was already a member.
And also, typically, it was he who took me to Loreto College and introduced me to several girls he had befriended!
And it was him who would often visit our home when I was not around, just to keep my aging parents company.
R.I.P. Somesh Das Gupta. You brought many a smile to many a face in this life. Hope you are smiling happily for ever and ever.
