NIGHTS OF THE NITES

The more avid of my readers would possibly recall that during my first year in college, I had gone  to India Gate to listen to Osibisa , an African band. My friend Amit Jha , in whose company Lady luck even at the peak of her jollivity refused to smile, was with me. There was a slight problem- we had no tickets to the show, and our pursuit for passes ended with a summary shove from the house of his Deputy Commissioner Dhiru  mama. Amit suggested we could get stoned,  go and enjoy from outside the venue.  We left no stone unturned , and fortified with a Rs. 10 Afghani from  Khanna’s at Kingsway camp left for India Gate. However, it was a no show for us  due to a basic glitch in planning- the show had been  long over by the time we reached ! 

Even after I joined service , my poor run of luck with these musical shows or “nites “, and functions like the jatras , continued. I was a probationer in Burdwan in 1990  when Lata Mangeshkar ji came to sing at Mohun Bagan  Ground . The venue was circled by a wall of sal barricading and corrugated sheets . I was detailed at one of the gates, and after the  people in the long , snaking queue  had entered the gate,  I went inside only to find a very agitated Addl SP telling the SP ' Sir aapki force phaltu hai.'

The Superintendent of Police,  the venerable Nawal Kishore Singh,  told him ‘bhai, yeh tumhari bhi force hai. Don’t bother , sit down , we will take care.’

 'Maliwal, jara dekho toh kya hungama ho raha hai, and take the probationer with you ,'  he ordered  his more reliable No. 2. 

So I got tagged with Mr. Maliwal , and we rushed towards the corner from where the unruly crowd was trying to gatecrash. The young Addl SP ordered a lathi charge, the younger probationer also joined him. We ran, chasing for over 50 meters , and then stopped as an eerie  silence from behind grabbed and pulled us up . Standing in the midst of  a sea of abandoned footwear , I looked behind. The posse of over twenty five  men  which had started out for the chase with us was nowhere to be seen , except our two security guards. 

‘Yeh hamesha hoga, always remember to look behind your back in such situations.’ 

Lesson learnt , we re- collected our men and made a further chase leading to a tear gas charge . 

Naina barse rimjhim rimjhim, Lataji sang,  as we got the gas in our  eyes  after  the breeze did a reverse flick and Ai mere watan ke logoN  zaraa aaNkh mei bhar lo paani accompanied us during our return trudge and lachrymal outpourings. 

A few months later, another such Nite  - of junior Bengal artists at Sidhu Kanu stadium, Durgapur. Shotgun Sinha had also come I recall. But what remains an abiding memory was the continuous lathi charge outside- apparently counterfeit tickets were sold leading to ruckus inside and riotous situation outside. Uma Shankar Mukherjee, the OC of Durgapur PS was able to crack the case, but the night had been more bruise than a breeze for many  of us. 

During my days as SDPO, Tamluk there was this Amit Kumar Nite  in Jhargram. From outside, the venue looked like one of the many circus locales  I had seen  in my childhood - Amar, Gemini, etc. Addl SP Kharagpur was in charge. At about ten in the night  the show started with a string of junior artists.  Then it became 11, and now midnight. The junior artists - a gaudily sequinned Shakeel here and a shimmering Shobujkali there-seemed to have exhausted  their repertoire and the audience’s patience . The jokes were falling flat, the gyrations were not enticing enough and the murmurs were getting louder. The police deployment at  ladies’  enclosure  was beefed up. Still no sign of Amit Kumar. 

Announcements were being made from time to time to reassure.  Finally around 1. 30 am when  our nerves had become quite frayed , Amit Kumar made his entry. 

As he stepped  on the stage he stumbled - one wrong step by him was a giant skip of beat  of every policeman’s heart. One could almost see every policeman on duty  bend  to catch and break his fall- their  safety depended on his sobriety . He collected  himself and straightened up. Next step and he lurched on the other side. The law enforcers also lunged instinctively to catch him from their positions.  Catcalls flew, a few liquid filled plastic packets as well. I thought this it was going to be bad, and uttered a silent prayer to steady the rocking  ship. The Almighty was  fortunately on  watch and He heard my prayers.

Amit Kumar composed himself, apologized endearingly , and promised to sing for three hours. And he lived up to his promise  and regaled right through the break of the dawn. It was one close shave for us .

A couple of years  later I was posted in Barasat . An organiser of Manna De Nite came over to my bunglow office late evening and informed that  the great singer had  gone back on his promise to turn up at Swaroop Nagar  despite having pocketed the advance .  He showed me documents to support his claim. 

‘When is the function?’ I asked. 

‘Sir, it is about to start within an hour today.’

If Manna De was not going to turn up, there was going to be serious trouble. Maybe even firing , I thought, as this district had a reputation of violent public protest to keep. Swaroop Nagar was on Bangladesh border with a fair number of mischief mongers , smugglers ,  transborder criminals - quite near to Baduria where police firing had taken place a few months ago during a jatra performance , and to Habra with its star studded Gobardanga and Massalandpur hotspots . 

I was equally bemused as to how many would would come to listen to  the maestro whose oeuvre was more classical and semi classical than the popular ones - I mean listen to Yeh kahaani hai diye ki aur toofan ki  and Laaga chunari mei daag . 

I immediately rang up Sunil Haldar , the SDPO Basirhat who was in charge of the police arrangements and informed him about this possibility.  

‘ Sarbanash ! he could not have described the possibility of mayhem better.

‘Sir, this is his phone number, he is putting up near Narkeldanga . You call him  up and tell him to turn up,’the organizer pleaded.

I thought no harm in trying.

‘Namaskaar, aami Bibek Shohay, Addl SP Barasat bolchhi.’

‘HaaN, bolun,’ the singer replied in a tone not very cordial, and not very deferential either. 

I explained to him that he had  committed to turn up at Swaroop Nagar that evening , having taken an advance, and that if he doesn’t go, there could be a huge trouble. He stated that he was not going since  the organizer , as per contract, had to pay the balance on his arrival at  Kolkata and had not paid . 

I cupped the mouthpiece and asked the organizer in front of me about this defaulting on balance amount.

‘ Sir, I promise to handover the balance by tomorrow,  well before his return flight. Right now, we are waiting for the ticket receipts to be calculated.’

Fair enough , I thought,  and uncupped the mouthpiece.

‘He will pay you tomorrow, you go otherwise there could be pandemonium at Swaroop Nagar,’ I tried to reassure and reason.

‘That is your problem, I will not go, that  organizer Tuhin is a fraud,’ Manna Dey replied in a tone as unreasonable as it was without any assurance.

I was absolutely livid , and  shouted on the mouthpiece, , ‘ I will get you arrested for  criminal breach of trust.’

I thought for a moment, foolishly of course , that Manna Dey might change his decision when the enormity of my threat would have dawned upon him.

‘ You can arrest me if you can, but I am  not going. Actually, I am flying off to Bombay tonight, ‘ he called my bluff and hung up. 

I was happy the phone didn’t have a speakerphone , so my came -with -a bang- left -with -a -whimper humiliation was a fairly private affair. 

My next phone calls  were  to the Reserve Inspector  for a section or two of  ( composite ) force, to Binay , the SDPO Bongaon to rush with available force and meet at some point under Habra PS ,  and finally to Sunil  Haldar to keep the show going on with the junior artists till we arrived .

I took me over two hours to reach  Swarupnagar PS where the local OC had already put the secretary of the organization behind bars. 

“ What for is this fellow inside?” 

“Saar, it is protective custody, it could save him from being lynched.”

Sanjit was a veteran of the field , impressively rotund as thanedars of most mofussil thanas are, and fully in control. 

The venue was not very far from the police station, and as we walked you could the cut the tension with a knife.  An ominous buzz was going around , and as I was contemplating the next step, a footwear flew and fell the microphone in front of the singer on stage , and soon a couple of chairs  found their target  in the huddle of sound technicians and a few constables .

These missiles also ended my contemplation. The decision was immediately made.  There was a wild lathi charge , the crowd ran in different directions, and surprisingly, dispersed  in a few minutes . Till date, I have always wondered as to how the situation did not deteriorate  further , but then I guess, sometimes one can be lucky. It was one of those days again.  I looked up  to thank the Almighty. 

The only thing I saw up above was a plane flying. 

‘Could it be Manna De ?’I wondered. 

Maybe as a token of the advance , he had at least flown past the venue. 

April the 15 th

After a night of long vigil on 14th , staying awake past midnight to see and savour Tiger’s 15th Major , and an early pre 6 am tee off, the second on the trot in as many days, I tucked in early yesterday. Well rested, I woke up late but  was shocked to see the first page of Times of India. 

A massive fire had broken out at Notre Dame, bringing down its iconic spire - a photo capturing the tilt before it went down. Built with recycled materials of earlier structures which stood there, the Notre Dame cathedral, attacked by Huguenots, desecrated by atheist and deistic elements of the French Revolution, and targeted by terrorists, is “part of the fate, the destiny of France “.

Though not as intense as for the French, , Notre Dame holds some sentiments and is familiar for people like me who studied in Jesuit schools . The male priests were from Society of Jesus with S.J as their post-nominal letters while the nuns in the junior section and in the two Mount Carmel Schools in the coalfield city of Dhanbad were drawn from Sisters of Notre Dame or S.N.D.

I had visited Notre Dame in 2005. We hung around for over an hour in the huge open space outside its much photographed western facade - part of the many who thronged the place. From the market abutting the cathedral , I bought a few paintings of some Paris landmarks and a Black Tee- the Eiffel Tower stylistically swirling in the multi hues of Olympic Games - the city was making a bid for the 2012 Olympics .

Sharing space with picture of Notre Dame was the EC gag on some leading politicians,an IMD
prediction of near normal monsoon and a small picture of an injured Shashi Tharoor , promising more on the incident at page 8. I flipped over to the page and found the injury was on account of a freak accident while offering the Thulambharam ritual - the honourable MP and candidate for the LSE, 2019 and writer of Why I am a Hindu, was weighing himself against offerings of sugar, jaggery and banana. He had earlier tweeted a word floccinaucinihilipilification , and I wondered whether this freak accident could be described as one such.

Separated by a column announcing Ravi Kishan’s candidature from Gorakhpur was a picture of Pari, the buffalo captioned Moo-ving Graffitti. I wonder whether EC’s regulation against wall graffitis could cover ‘buffaloboards’ or not. Pari was now viral on Whatsapp, and I instinctively checked my phone . While I did not find any forward, I caught many forwards on “the exasperating farrago of distorted ropes …..resulting in disintegration of calciferous structure and hydraulic damages …..” to describe the freak accident during Thulabharam. 

The Global page had an interesting news “ Could a gay mayor from a small town become POTUS?” , something more on the Notre Dame fire, made a small mention on gender mainstreaming of Taliban talks , a news item the Ecuador president leaking information on Wikileak Assange’s activities in Ecuador’s embassy in London, and even a tiny bit on “Man sues parents for destroying his porn collection “.

Exports hit record in FY 19 on the business page, WPI inflation hit a three month high , the Sensex
rallied on normal monsoon prediction and Foxconn announced set up of mass iPhone production outside Chennai. I moved on quickly to the Sports pages which were lapped up by World Cup selection DK- Pant debate , IPL , more IPL but finally settled into a full page on Tiger’s comeback and his 15 Masters.

I moved back into the City newspages. At 268 meters, with the casting of the roof of the 65th floor, The 42 at 268 meters now stood tallest in India. Road accidents and delinquent driving rivalled Poila Baishakh’s gastronomic excesses also held their ground. Looking for something more interesting to accompany the second cup of tea I moved to Time Trends.

Holding Centrestage in the only half of the page not consumed by advertisements, amidst columns on inhalable chemotherapy, Green protests in London, weight bias in women caused by celebrity fat shaming and 3D printing of heart using human tissues was Helen Coffey’s 4 columns on “No mini toiletries at California hotels?”. A bill is pending for Governor Gavin Newsom decision to ban “lodging establishments ---- from offering small plastic bottles from distributing single-use toiletries”.

I do not know whether the prohibition placed on carrying larger quantities of gel and shampoo post 9/11 attack in hand baggage led to a significant surge in supply of single use toiletry bouquet by the hospitality industry. I know for sure the prohibitions were loaded heavily against mustachioed travellers because I have surrendered quite a few moochh clippers to the X ray man at the Security check.

9/11 or not, there is no denying the fact that hospitality business has started to stack a huge variety of single use toiletries small plastic pouches and bottles - conditioners , shampoo , body wash, face wash ( yes , while the pharmaceutical business researches on broadening the spectrum of its antibiotics , the cosmetic industry splices its products as per the body parts ).

Much like the quality of lunch which informs the success of official meetings, the toilet bouquet has ,for many, come to take precedence over quality of room service , linen, the food , etc . More important , these items become the most poignant memory of their stay patrons carry home. The unintended consequences of this carry-to- home offer has been the growing trend of taking away towels and stationary, as well something which the hotel management suffers in simpering, silent agony and wives with red faced embarrassment at their husbands when pointed to by the concierge during departure.

However, the California Bill is not about pinched towels or spousal embarrassment. It is about the recognition of the need to control  plastic pollution from entering our waste streams. I hope Governor Newsom signs the bill into law , and inspire others states and nations to do likewise. One has got to make all the right noises and tick all the boxes in this fight. Disneyland Paris has banned the plastic straws  and the European Parliament single-use plastic products like cutlery and cotton buds from 20121.

My friend Anurag Shukla did not even wait for that- at  his daughter’s wedding at Mhow which I attended with a few school friends last month, all food and drinks were served in arecanut plates and kulhars. He laid out his courage of conviction and simplicity with a panache - to him and his family,  I dedicate this blog as well.

DILLI DIARY

After a long time  I avail a Banga Bhavan car during my trip to Dilli . The driver  , tall and bearded , in whites and a thin waistcoat , is at Terminal 1 to receive me . The light is fading, the smog makes  for a grainy vision, and we follow a trail of a thousand cars- lit by the tail lights working overtime as they brake more than move. The driver informs me that Dilli has 8. 5 crore vehicles , that Metro takes in close to 40 lac passengers everyday .
8.5 crores !! That stops me in my tracks . Here I am , to take part in a meeting on road safety , for West Bengal, having probably the third highest road network in the country, with a registered vehicular fleet totalling just over  85 lacs ! Later I found out, it wasn’t 8.5 crore but maybe 1.5 .

Still, even  1.5 crores in just one city was humongous, and it explains  the long traffic jams , new multi laned superhighways notwithstanding. One doesn’t tackle obesity by increasing the trouser’s waistline. It will , in a short while, demand another increase. One does it by diet control. Ditto with traffic congestion - not my original. I had picked this up from someone at the World Road Meet in 2017, liked it and repeated it quite often.

The driver laughed at the analogy.

“Kahaan se kam hoga, ek ek ghar mei teen chaar gadiyaaN haiN.”

I tell him about how completely lost  I have felt in Dilli since the Commonwealth Games. I just can’t seem to find my way to places , with new flyovers , snaking elevated metro tracks , and skywalks. We drive  to East Kidwai Nagar through affluent areas where there was space large enough for the pedestrian to walk and walk his dog . One item on our agenda for the meeting is about Street Vendors Act . West Bengal , with a very high population to road ratio , is expected to keep its pavement unencumbered for the pedestrian .

The driver  is garrulous .

“ If I shave my beard , I would look younger than the other much -younger drivers of Banga Bhavan .”

“ What’s your name ?”

“Anil. “

And then it strikes  me . He was part of the Banga Bhavan team of drivers who  were in service when I used to visit , about 25 years ago , as ADC to Prof Nurul Hasan , the Governor of Bengal . I tell  him I have now placed him - young , jean clad handsome chap . He is delighted. He says he has also been grappling with his memory to place me, but the period in between today and our last encounter and my increased waistline  has blurred the recall.

Anyone who had touched the late Governor Nurul Hasan could never come away without a pot of anecdotes . We reminisce about his visits and entourage - the other ADCs like Mariah,  Hrishikesh and Rakesh Chhillar, the doctors, the nurse , Tulsi the thin attendant with a thinner voice , Kulwant Singh his PA, Baji , his sister , his children, and so many .

We talk about the time the Governor had thrown a party at 2 Circular Road, inviting all MPs of the state and the entire cabinet of late Pradhan Mantri  Narasimha Raoji. They came in big numbers , including the polyglot and highly learned Pradhan Mantriji . A lavish spread had been laid out , chosen by the Governor’s old cook, and of course, approved by His Excellency who was very particular about food he offered his guests.

Actually , many mornings my first encounter with the Governor would be in his residence where his CA Kulwant Singh would be huddled with a pen and notebook taking down his boss’s dictation on the menu of the day , and air and travel itinerary of the Governor and of the staff . Wasted he may have been , but above the neck , he was one of the sharpest and possessed a photographic memory . He could reel off dictation for three four journeys without looking at either the Bradshaw or the Indian Airlines time table.

The cook was  from Rampur. . He came as a fifteen year old lad , accompanying the Nawab of Rampur’s eldest daughter during her marriage to Syed Nurul Hasan and was  as bossy as the Governor was gracious and self effacing . I forget his name, probably Jamil.When the governor would eat well, and his gastronomic indulgences never went unnoticed , Jamil would cook fabulously   lest be ticked off by his master. The Governor was very famous for his hospitality, especially food, and beamed at the compliments the guests showered.

But when prof. Syed Nurul Hasan  returned to Bengal for a second gubernatorial term  , his health had deteriorated and severe restrictions had been placed on his diet . Phulka , plain lentils,  some vegetables he was allowed , sometimes strictly rationed roasted cashew nuts which he liked so much that quite often  his inquisitive fingers, emissaries of unsatiated hunger, tried to fish out from a quarter plate emptied quite some time ago .

But the Docs had not placed restrictions on him to bring over  guests for meals . So he continued to invite people from among the usual Governor’s constituency made up of Vice Chancellors ( he being the Chancellor of all except Shantiniketan ) , the local chiefs of Victoria memorial, Indian museum and EZCC. As his  ADC, I also had to sit at the table and partake.

However, Jamil Mia  did not rustle up any great food. His study of human psychology was profound indeed. Smug with the knowledge that that Governor’s subordinates  would never fail to praise whatever food served at the Governor's table , he hardly put his soul into cooking. At times , it could be so unexciting that I would seek exemption after setting  up His Excellency at the table.

But the fellow knew it was different when the PM and the cabinet came over . They , quite a few of them on first name terms , many like the PM much older , had little reason to praise ordinary food. So the old Rampur bawaarchi gave his best to lay out a daawat fit for kings . One item - the Murgh Mussalam kebab- I can never forget . I even asked for a recipe, and later even inflicted the dish on my guests, making up for inadequacies with stories of Jamil Mian and the great dinner at 2, Circular Road.

The party at 2, Circular Road was coming up nicely when a mini storm broke out and it started to rain. The guests left hurriedly , not all having eaten . The governor also passed out - a syncope to which we were used to expect and equipped to handle .

Anil recalls  the subsequent days in GB Pant hospital where the Governor had been admitted . He remembers  that I had put him for extra duty during those days . I say he was the youngest driver then , so naturally.

The governor’s last trip  to Dilli was in a coffin I accompanied in an IAF Transport plane. The day we laid him to rest at Jamia , it rained cats and dogs . Anil was also in that convoy. Prof Hasan was a towering scholar of medieval Indian history, builder and architect of many iconic institutions like ICHR and ICSSR, had been our Ambassador to USSR , a connoisseur of music ,   a great human being. Kolkata paid him a poignant farewell as thousands had come to Raj Bhawan to offer respectful homage , and more had lined up the Park Street and VIP road through which the cortège passed . I was deeply saddened and quite affected by his death to renal failure at   Woodburn Ward in Kolkata Presidency General Hospital.

Anil talks  about how he had built a gym in Banga Bhavan ( maiN toh pehelwan hooN) and even a library ( help from Minister Subhash Chakraborty). Later on , his initiative and proximity to senior officers and ministers didn’t go down well.

“ Politics ho gaya mere saath”.

He  drops me at East Kidwai Nagar , and it strikes me that I have forgotten the file in the car . I try to call  him on my cell phone , but I cannot . Connectivity is extremely poor in these newly built towers. I usually find connectivity a big issue on my Kolkata Vodafone number  in Dilli. I can barely talk to my colleagues from Banga Bhavan rooms in Hailey Road where I had gone the following day for a pre- meeting meeting. Even as we sit , hunched in the lounge waiting for our turn after Andhra Pradesh , there is  no data connectivity and it is even difficult to talk .

The meeting in Vigyan Bhavan  is followed by lunch . Simple , frugal , bland - the opposite of opulence and affluence of Lutyens Dilli . Quite unsatiated, I try a chicken and egg roll at Nizam’s at T1 later in the day . It smells of some chemical, and I leave it after a few bites. What a shame , Dilli can otherwise offer such lovely food. Hardly a month ago, at my niece and nephew’s weddings, the food was superb.

En route Terminal 1 , I see  a huge stone monolith in a huge compound  . Anil informs that it is the Police Memorial . They had pulled down the earlier one .

“Rashtrapati ke Shaan ke khilaaf thha, ” Anil, the Mr. Know-all said.

Later I read that there were environmental issues .

The redoing cost the government Rs. 20 crores  Anil adds. I haven’t cross checked on that.

“Phew! 20 crores?“

“Yes , 20 crores .”

“ No one noticed when it was being made in the first place ?”

“ Arrey sir , sab ne gaur ( notice)  kiya . Tabhi toh isse gaurment kehte haiN !!”, and laughs  at the joke. I join him.

“Kulwant Singh used to say so , ” he added.

Thank you , Anil . You made up for  traffic , connectivity and food woes .