Week 8 of 52

“This was in 1963, when I was travelling to Ajmer for the first time to join my new job. I left by Toofan mail from Patna and got down at Agra. Since my connecting train to Ajmer was in the evening and I had time on my hands, I decided to visit the Taj Mahal. I was feeling very homesick. I sat there and contemplated the Taj but could not see any extraordinary beauty in it. I wondered why was it so acclaimed for its beauty. I had started feeling very hungry too. My eyes fell on an earthen pot (bhaar) with rosogollas in it, sitting next to me. My mother must have given it to me. I ate two rossogollas from it and felt satiated and happy. I again turned to contemplate the Taj Mahal... and whoa! I was blown away by its splendour, magnificence, design, the architecture! Every inch of it was overflowing with life and color and resplendent beauty! What a change two rossogollas can make!”

With Monimoy Mukherjee
PC Debjani Banerjee and Suprakash Chakraborty.

Week 7 of 52

“When I look back at my past, I feel mystified some times. We lived a very simple life, far from any affluence in our childhood. But, we knew how to absorb satisfaction from little things . I was not good at any game and was very introvert in nature. After joining FCI in Sindri (Jharkhand state), I found some friends bicycling to Deogarh and other nearby places . Bicycle was the most common mode of transportation at that time. I proposed to my friends that I would join them, if they would come up with a long trip. To my astonishment, the proposal was accepted and a cycle trip from SINDRI to KASHMIR was planned! It was an unthinkable and audacious plan! This was in August 1970. I was just 26 years old and a bachelor . Except for our leader, the others in our five member team were also bachelors. Our expedition turned out semi-official, the corporation approved it but would not finance it or take responsibility. We started our journey on 20th August and it took us 25 days to reach our destination. It was an unheard-of journey in those times wherein we cycled 2000 kms of India on Grand Trunk (GT) Road through Sasaram, Varanasi, Allahabad, Kanpur, Lucknow, Agra, Mathura, Delhi, Ludhiana, and finally Jammu! Raghunathji Mandir at Jammu was our finishing and deliverance point. “

With Pranab Mukherjee
Picture Credit Pranab Mukherjee

Week 6 of 52

I have always sought the company of strangers on my solo breaks. In this quest to speak to unknown people, I have realised that people share easily and unconsciously give you a peek into their soul. This holds good especially for India - I have met many who hold no boundaries while they speak. During one such trip, I met a woman who I thought had it all. A wealthy husband, lovely daughters, a beautiful home and she herself was delightful. She spoke only Marwari and Hindi. Dressed in a synthetic Bandhni saree, she had the palla covering her head. Of the many things we spoke, one question I asked her was what was that one thing she would like to do given an opportunity. She said, " Ek baari salwar kurta pehenne ki ijazat chahiye." ( I want permission to wear salwar kameez just once.)
Needless to say, I was at a loss for words."

With Aparna Das Sadhukhan of Ninebythirty.
Picture Credit Ninebythirty

Week 5 of 52

“I was in maybe the 7th or 8th grade. On reaching my school hostel and unpacking, i found one of my socks rolled up. Curious, I unrolled it to find Rs 110 inside! It was like finding a treasure! When I later went home during my holidays and told Ma excitedly about my find, Ma exclaimed,” And I kept searching each and every socks wondering where did my savings disappear!”. Ma was like a friend, always cheerful and smiling. Our pet dog Sweety would patiently sit at her feet, waiting for her treat of the peeled skin of boiled potatoes! Baba would buy six rosogollas on his way home - five for us and one for Sweety!
Baba was very organised,meticulous and disciplined. Each toothpaste, medicine bottle would be neatly put back in its original paper box cover. Each box looked absolutely brand new and it is only when you opened a box and removed its contents that you would realise the toothpaste or a medicine was just enough for a last go. In Surat, the collector Mr Ghosh called up baba and told him his child was not well. So he would be dropping at our home to pick up medicine from baba. Baba gave him a bottle of cough syrup, ensconced in its brand new looking box. After sometime, Mr Ghosh called up baba to enquire about the dosage. Baba said a teaspoon after each meal, three times a day would suffice. Mr Ghosh replied wryly, I have overturned the bottle upside down and could manage to extract only a few drops! Baba was left red faced embarassed while the rest of us at home had a hearty laugh at the unexpected fallout from Baba’s habit!”
With Abhit Banerjee

Week 4 of 52

Memories of India’s Independence 

Father.

“1944-45. The Quit India Movement was on. Leaders like Jaiprakash Narain had been arrested. Students in schools were threatened with sedition and so students in my school were in an agitated frame of mind. Suddenly a senior student Mihirda along with a few other students rushed to the top of the school and hoisted the Congress flag - at that time the Congress flag represented our flag for India’s freedom. Seeing the unfurled flying flag, we students  got exhilarated and excited ! Very soon a convoy of police came, arrested Mihirda and took him away. Agitated, we students stepped out of our school. A large procession of students  were on their way to Gandhi Maidan  and we too joined them in their march. 

15th August, 1947.  We celebrated Independence Day by putting up pictures of Netaji and Gandhiji in each house. If I remember rightly, our eldest brother Borda was with us too that day, as we went house to house with flags and pictures. 

January,1948. The whole of Patna town was griefstricken . We did not have a radio in our house and so left for our aunt Rangamashima’s house, who had one. The young , the old, the men, the ladies, kids - each person we met on our way to her house was weeping at the news of Mahatma Gandhi’s assassination”.

Mother.

“I was very small and so I do not have a specific memory of independence day . My father was no more. We used to stay in East Bengal , which is now Bangladesh. Hindu Muslim riots were at their height and so our family decided to leave for India. We had to first take a launch to a big city, maybe Dhaka, from where we were to catch a train to Kolkata. My mother left with one of my elder brothers, my elder sister Sabita and me. My other siblings were already in India. My brother could not walk and so my mother had to carry him despite his age. My mother told Sabita and me to hold on to her saree and not let go. We followed her to the long queue for the launch . My mother crossed over the  door for the launch. But just before  Sabita and I could enter, the door was shut. We started banging on the door, crying for our mother. My mother wept inside requesting officials to let her two girls in. There was a huge crowd behind us, also in queue awaiting their turn for the launch. They got upset  and shouted aloud in support for us to be allowed to enter the launch. Soon after, the door opened just a little bit and we were pulled inside and reunited with our mother”.

With Hironmoy Mukherjee and Namita Mukherjee

Week 3 of 52

In 2003, I resigned from Reliance industries and went to Kazakhstan for my new job with a steel company named Ispat Industries. During my interview for this job, I asked my future employer about availability of vegetarian food in Kazakhstan as it was a completely alien place for me and I had read online that finding anything vegetarian there is very difficult. The CFO of the company was on the interview panel. He chuckled and said that if he has survived being a Marwari vegetarian, he did not see why I would face any problem. Those words comforted me quite a bit.

So I flew from Delhi to Almaty , where I took another flight to Karaganda, from where I then drove down to Temirtau. When I reached the hotel there, I was allotted a room. The receptionist told me that the CEO/CFO would like to meet me in an hour. I quickly went to my room, got freshened up, and came back to the hotel’s restaurant to have some tea and breakfast. In the restaurant I met an Indian guy and felt very happy at finally seeing another Indian face. We started chatting in Hindi. He introduced himself as Rajendran, a Keralite, who was working as the manager of the hotel. He ordered some tea and breakfast on my behalf and asked if I was interested in a tour of the hotel, which I accepted. It was an interesting place, of classic Russian style architecture, with beautiful chandeliers in the halls, and corridors.

Just before returning to the restaurant, we passed through the kitchen... and Good God! That sight still haunts me. On the center table, there lay the severed head of a horse. It seemed so alive that I felt as if it were staring at me. But at the same time, the blood dripping off it made it so difficult to make eye-contact with it. It was a most horrible scene, something that I always try my best not to think of. As an Indian Jain vegetarian, I did not ever eat meat to begin with; and was now confronted with the severed head of an animal staring at me from the centre of the dining table. On top of this, the head Chef came up to me and insisted that as a welcomed guest, I eat some meat from that horse along with a glass of Vodka. I could not stomach even a sip of water and somehow managed to get out of there. On coming back to restaurant, I even could not have any tea and decided to meet CEO and CFO straightway as I had made up my mind to go back to India.

I was taken to meet the CFO first and after the usual exchange of greetings, immediately asked for permission to go back before even having formally joined the organization. Once I explained the situation, the CFO realized my situation and hastened to explain that displaying the horse head and offering its meat were meant as a sign of respect to guests. A new location with fresh crockeries and utensils was arranged for me, and I calmed down after moving there and having some tea. But for a long time afterwards, whenever I closed my eyes, I would see the face of the horse staring at me from the dinner table.

With Prakash Jain

Picture credit - Prakash Jain

Week 2 of 52

“We started Pathshala in 2013 for the children of migrant workers at a construction site. When the construction was through in 2014, we shifted our activities to a footpath. Many kids used to come there, sometimes 25, sometimes 30. Most of the kids staying on or around that footpath used to attend our classes. One of the kids amongst them was Kanu. He must have been, I guess, around eight to nine years old. He was very warm and affectionate and also very bright in studies . All of us liked him. He used to tell me occasionally, my mother does not want me to study . He did not have a father . We used to tell him why won’t you come? You are so good in studies ! And he used to enjoy studying too. He continued coming regularly. Then one day he said my mother is absolutely refusing to let me study, can you please talk with my mother? I asked where is she ? He replied that she had gone to work . I said that let me know when she returns, I will convince her . She did not come by the time our class activities got over and so I did not get to meet her. Next day Kanu was very upset, repeating that his mother did not want him to study . This time he added that she will take me away from here. I was surprised and asked him where will she take you? Do you have anyone else in the family? He said they have no one but she will take me away from here. Seeing him disconsolate, I said okay . I will wait for your mother to come from her work to talk with her . I stayed back after the classes were over in the morning and he went to call his mother . After sometime he returned alone, his mother was not with him. When I asked him, he said I could not find her , she seems to have gone somewhere . This continued the next few days and I would wait to meet the mother but she would not come. Then one day, I noted Kanu had not come to the class. When I asked the other children where is Kanu, they replied that he has gone away . Startled, I asked where has he gone? They said we do not know but his mother took him away forcefully . He was crying a lot and kept calling out for you . He did not want to go but his mother beat him and dragged him away along with her . I had given him my number to call but he must have been unable to make one. Kanu did not return to our class thereafter. This incident so shook me and left a deep impact on me! I had not understood the gravity of the situation. Kanu did not return , I do not know where is he or how is he. Some months after this incident, the mother of another child who also used to live on the footpath spoke with me. The mother was a habitual drinker and had drunk heavily the previous night too. When we went to teach in the morning, she told me Madam, take my child to your hostel otherwise I will leave her and go away. By then we had started a hostel which housed nine kids. We had already experienced Kanu and we took the decision to shift the child to our hostel the very same day without a second thought. She is still with us in the hostel and is doing very well. What do I say about Kanu? I had not understood things would unfold the way they did with him! We were still a year old in this field, each experience teaching us. Since then many children have joined our classes , our hostel has expanded a little more , we have had many success stories, we are doing the very best we can for our children. But I still feel so sad when I think of Kanu . When you asked me about my experiences with Pathshala, he is still the first person who popped up in my mind .”

With Juin Dutta

Picture Credit  Juin Dutta 

Week 1 of 52

" The Subansari river is the biggest tributary of the Upper Brahmaputra. For more than a hundred kilometres, the river passes through verdant wilderness untouched by roads and isolated from habitation. So one gets to see nature and wildlife in its raw beauty and at its most primal. I had been following an adventure company’s expeditions on the Subansari for many years, but when I contacted them, they said the trip for 2017 was on the river Siang ( also in Arunachal Pradesh) and not Subansari. Suddenly a few days before the trip, the company contacted saying the Siang river had suddenly become muddy with sediments and rafting was not possible on it . So the expedition was being shifted to Subansari. I was so thrilled at my dream wish having come true! Only 200 people had rafted down this river before us. This was perhaps my last chance to visit this beautiful place before the pristine route, along with its flora and fauna, got submerged by the dam being built downriver.
We were a group of four Indians and an Englishman named Al, along with a support staff of nine . No roads alongside the river meant we had to carry all supplies along with us too. While travelling to the river in a jeep , we were narrated stories of the tribes in Arunachal Pradesh who were still not very friendly with the outside world. One story was about the massacre of a British regiment in pre-independent India which left Al very nervous. The tribal locals are fond of a drink called Apong each evening which makes them boisterous. The support staff advised us to not go chatting with the locals to be on the safer side.

The first night we crossed the river and camped on the river bank. As we sat on the bank, we saw two boys come from the village to the river and there was a huge blast. We were startled but were reassured that the blast was from the dynamites the boys had put in the river to catch fishes. But the blast unnerved Al even further.

It got dark and we retired for the night in our respective tents. It was pitch dark with our torches being our only source of light. Suddenly, I heard a blood curdling scream! I came out of the tent and my torchlight fell on Al frantically filling up his socks with stones and small rocks - the only self-defence weapon he could think of! As it turned out, one of the support staff had the habit of shouting in his sleep ! "

With Sonali Ogale

Picture credit : Sonali Ogale