Some Friends Are Forever (2B)

SUBHO (PART – II)

Till I landed up with a job in Bhutan in 1990, I spent a glorious part of my life with Subho. In my childhood, I would go to Jiaganj during the Summer, Winter or any other holidays. My brother-in-law, Mr. Prabha Shankar Bhatta, was a renowned barrister practising at the Lalbagh Court. He was a generous man and never bothered much about any such intrusions from anyone from his in-laws’ side.

Anyway, those days at the sleepy town of Jiaganj, spent in the company of my nephews, are like a dream that happens once in a lifetime. Talking of my late brother-in-law, he was a very well-known man in and around Jiaganj. I can’t help sharing an incident here. On one such visit, one of his close friends, the owner of a big watch shop in the market, invited us (my nephew Bapi also accompanied us to Jiaganj during that trip) to his house for a mango treat.

We, youngsters, were made to sit like maharajas on three stools while the household daughters-in-law, sat on the courtyard floor, with one leg holding the bati down and the other stretched out. Each of them was picking up a mango ( there were mangoes of different types, colours, shapes and sizes!) from an earthen basket filled to the brim with water, cutting them into three pieces masterfully and serving out on our plates. You may not believe it, dear Reader, but on that day, in the contest amongst the three of us, I turned out to be the winner. I had eaten precisely 21 mangoes – skin, seed and all, by courtesy of Turu Kaka and my late brother-in-law!

To come back to the story of my friendship with Subho, there are so many precious moments that I can easily write some four or five chapters. But I will keep focussing on the more interesting ones. Shubho and I had friends, mostly girls, all over. From Alipur to Maniktala to Taltala, we created some wonderful memories together. One of my most memorable trips with Shubho was to Ranchi. My eldest nephew, Shubho’s eldest brother, Mani, who had been an SBI employee at that time, had recently got married and he wanted us, both Subho and me, to accompany him with his new bride to Ranchi, which was under Bihar then.

Ranchi is an amazing place! There was an entire colony of Bengali families settled in there. Mani, I used to call him Gutuda, was older than me. And let me also tell you, in this connection, dear Reader, that he was undoubtedly the most handsome man you would ever see anywhere. With curly hair, a smile that would make the fairer sex go week in the knees, and a manly physique, he was simply a living Krishna ( his fair name) of modern times.

We had a super-duper time at Ranchi. While Subho, Prakash Babu ( Mani’s father-in-law, who happened to be the Headmaster of the Bangla School), Bhaiya (Mani’s brother-in-law) and I played cards, Mani’s mother-in-law, kept herself busy making some of the choicest dishes in the kitchen to keep us well-fed. During that trip to Ranchi we also became quite friendly with their neighbours, one of them staying on the second floor of the same building only – Nilima Thakur. She had already created ripples across Bihar as a great singer, and was popularly known as The Lata Mangeshkar of Bihar.

Shubho, Bhaiya and I would go down to their flat and would be treated to some melodious numbers by Nilima, who was almost the same age as us. Nilima also had a beautiful sister called Pommy, if my memory serves me right. Besides, I was introduced to the songs of Talat Aziz, the gazal singer, for the first time by Bhaiya.

I would never forget gazals like “Bahat hasin hain mera dil ruba na ho jaye, mere nazar main woh katil khuda na ho jaye…”; “Jahan main tujhsa hasin kaun dusra hoga?”; and a host of other gazals that we threesome (after a couple of day’s stay in Ranchi, Bhaiya became an integral part of our life), would listen to in a semi-dark room with the curtains drawn in the afternoons. They were sheer magic and no amount of mastery on my part over the language, can help me recreate those moments.

Anyway, Subho sang a very hit Kishore Kumar song those days from the movie “College Girl” one evening at Nilima Thakur’s place. He sang it so impressively that I was left stunned. I never thought much of Shubho as a singer till then. The song was :

Pyar manga hain tumhi se na inkar karo, (2)

Pas baitho jara aaj to, ikraar karo… 

(I have asked for your love, don’t reject,

Come, sit beside me for today, to express.)

‘Yours truly’ also had to sing a song that evening at their request ( the brain behind such requests always happened to be Subho), I broke into another Kishore Kumar song that held me captive in those days. The song was from a Rajesh Khanna-Hema Malini starrer called “Kudrat” :

Hume tumse pyar kitna ye hum nahi jante,

Magar ji nahi sakte, tumare bina…

(I don’t know how much I love you,

But I can’t live my life, without you.)

You see, dear Reader, our lives were full of laughter, love and laddus (both literally and figuratively) those days.

I will conclude the chapter on Friendship with Shubho today with the Neterhaat Trip that we, threesome, undertook at the end of our week-long trip to Ranchi. Neterhaat is a hypnotising, hilly place some hours drive from Ranchi. Once we got there, I was simply bowled over by its scenic beauty. If I can call it up correctly, there were some colourful and vibrant flower gardens up there. The hour before we were to return, Bhaiya spoke about the popular khowa (some kind of milk product) found in the farmhouse there. We must have bought some for home. But the greedy me couldn’t resist the temptation of testing a little bite of the khowa before descending.

The khowa, no doubt, tasted like some kind of divine food. So, I had more of it without knowing the consequences. On the way back, in the tonga, I, lying on my back, kept crying out due to an accute tummy upset.

“Ami ar bachbona. O, Subho, O Bhayia, Pete je ki asjhya jantrana…O, Ma…”

(I won’t live anymore. Subho, Bhaiya, I can’t bear this pain any more.)

But what will stay etched in my mind was the way, Bhaiya kept his cool and composure, laughing and muttering at the same time :

“Dur shala, khowa kheye keu mare na…” (Act like a man, Mate, for no one is known to have kicked the bucket due to an overdose of khowa.)

That picture of Bhayia, Subho and me, in the tonga – with me crying, holding my tummy in hands, crying like that was my last hour in the world, while Bhaiya urging the tonga-driver to drive faster, yelling some of the choicest expletives in our language at me, and laughing or pretending to laugh raucously in the dusky ride, will bring a lot of cheer to my heart till my dying breath.

To be continued ….