Dr. Bishnupada Pal Choudhury, MBBS, DOMS, MS, - the
illegible letters after the name had me in complete awe. I was probably in my
late teens, still in college aiming to earn an engineering degree. One day, at
a private moment, I quietly asked him to decipher the muddle. He did and I
realized how much of hard work had gone behind earning those letters. Later,
three more letters would find their legitimate place after the name, - PHD. But
that is another story.
This was Borda (pron. Bawrdaa). Being the eldest grandchild
of late Ishwar Chandra and Madhumalati Deb, he was the big brother of our
generation, - our Borda. We all looked up to him. My parents, his mejomama and
mejomami were very fond of him. My mother particularly will cite the examples
of her “Biju” as a benchmark for me. My father, not very eloquent by nature,
would beam with pride every time his name and achievements were mentioned.
76 A, Upper Circular Road in Rajabajar was an unofficial
base or headquarters of our family. A cosy abode maintained by my Kaku and
Kakima (Uncle and Aunt) sheltered many friends and relatives. During one of my
summer holidays, while I was still in high school, I had the pleasure of
Borda’s exclusive company and spent some memorable time with him. He was a medical
student, probably on a holiday. I remember a few long chat sessions. I wonder
whether Borda’s children (Purba and Pushaun) are aware that those days, he was
very fond of cowboy movies. He narrated several stories to me like that of a
bounty hunter, who drew his gun in a flash, while riding a horse, and shot down
a rogue, who terrorized a whole town. I listened wide eyed.
One Sunday morning, he sought my parents’ permission to take
me out to watch a film. The permission was granted immediately. I was so
excited. The film was Robin Hood. That probably was the first English film I
watched ever.
He had a flare for languages. While he was studying in King
George Medical College in Lucknow, he picked a bit of Urdu too. If I remember
right, he spoke Assamese fluently as well.
Memories are blurred now. All these stories are not in
chronological order but random flashes of memory. He gifted me a shirt on his
return from abroad after one of his academic pursuits, which I treasured and
sported only on very special occasions.
His transformation to the world of literature and art was a
very pleasant surprise. In my later life, I realized how much knowledge he had
gathered during his life. However, by this time, our meetings were brief and
infrequent. It is indeed a matter of great regret that I never had the
opportunity to discuss with him the hobbies and passions that he indulged in
during his mature years. Some of his recent books reflect his spiritual side as
well. I wish I could tell him in person how much we all admired him and his
life.
On a lighter note, I remember during my early days, when
Borda was probably the most eligible bachelor on this side of the Atlantic, my
mother was approached by several parents for obvious reason. My mother would
reject all such proposals as those would-be-brides did not deserve her Biju.
She was right. At the end, the most deserving one became my boudi.
Love you Borda. Be happy wherever you are.
Siddhartha Deb, Kolkata, 20 Nov 2015
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