😰 Unexpected consequences of good deeds

From Biswajit Basu:

Here is a story I missed telling earlier but I just remembered a few days back and told Tuki & Deepak:

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*MY LIFE'S MOST EMBARRASSING INCIDENT*

This is a story of perhaps 40 years ago.  I was down from my ship for my exams (can't remember which) and studying at home in Delhi. We had a maid, Paapati, a very hardworking  Tamilian lass who stayed in our servants quarters with her hubby who was a cook in the Ministry of Labour. This lady was pregnant.

Her hubby had taken a complete month's leave in anticipation of her delivery.  But she did not oblige and he had to go back to work.

One morning while I was studying, my mother burst into the room and said that Paapati was getting severe labour pains and her hubby could not be contacted.  So I was to take her immediately to hospital.  So I packed her into an  auto and went to the Emergency Ward at Safdarjang Hospital, which was the nearest.

They were quick and took her away immediately saying that delivery was imminent and asked me to pay her fees.

I went to the cash counter and paid answering questions like my name, age, family details etc. While departing from the counter, 2 fat ladies sidled up to me and asked me how many children I had.  I honestly answered I had one (Piya).  Then one of those fat ladies with a particularly sickly, sweet smile said that since I was getting my second child, "katwa lijiye" (jargon of those times)! implying vasectomy!  Soon a crowd gathered and these two ladies kept exhorting me to be patriotic with promises of transistors, a bicycle etc.

I escaped somehow and rushed back to the cashier and told him that while I had certainly paid for the delivery, the girl was our maid.  The cashier ruffled through his papers and said my papers  had already 'gone' and he would try to correct it and I should come the next day.

I then returned to Emergency to show them the payment challan and met a whole lot of smiling doctors who joyfully  announced I was now the father of a bonny girl!

 

Those were Sanjay Gandhi's days and I was terrified that those two fat ladies would send goons after me to have me vasectomised by force in the same hospital.  So I decided to escape from this predicament and run home and tell Ma and Moon.

 Moon was fortunately an intern in Safdarjang at that time and so I requested her to have the record corrected in the hospital.  But she could never conclusively confirm it had been done.

I also castigated my Mom for sending me off on a sensitive job like that.  But to be honest, what else could she do?

So around 40 years have passed since then and that girl, whose delivery fees I paid, has probably  gone through half her life with my name listed as her father in her Birth Certificate issued by Safdarjang Hospital!

♾️ Doubly related

One of the grand matriarch of our extended family is Arati Ghosh (Mawana-Noida-Bangalore). Her elder son, Partho Ghosh’s wedding is one of the few big family gatherings from my childhood. It was the first time I met many of my distant cousins, most of whom I still haven’t met again. But Arati Maashi stood out from the crowd, and till this day, continues to stay in constant touch. 

I remember even my formidable mom was in awe of her discipline. She always narrated the story of how they were with Maashi for a meal, and she threw out an entire serving dish, just because it slightly touched another dish on the table (thereby becoming ‘aytho/ jhootha/ impure). The incident left such a strong impression on my mother that every time her name came up in a conversation, that story was sure to be told and retold! To her, Arati Maashi was a family role model of ‘bhodrota’ and tradition! She had no trouble accepting that she was scared of her! By the time I grew up to interact with her independently, she was much mellowed down and I remember being in Bangalore during my first job as a trainee in Unilever, and visiting their newly built beautiful house. With Sonjoy-da and Nisha-di being talented architects, who have gone on to become much respected in their careers, the house was truly an airy wonder of light and space. And within it, Atari Maashi’s gracious hospitality is second to none. Last month, my husband Rupesh was able to drop in for a visit during a business trip. What started as plans for a quick visit over breakfast became a full fledged multi-course delicious dinner! And Rupesh got the full ‘jamai’ treatment! 

^{(L-R: Sonjoy Ghosh, Nisha Matthew Ghosh, Rupesh Tripathi, Arati Ghosh)}

During this visit, an interesting point came up - I have always called Sonjuda as my brother but he thought I was his niece. It was my sister Surabhi (Tuki) who reminded us of the double relation. I am both cousin and niece to him since Arati Maashi is related to us by both birth AND by her marriage!! 

And who else can clear up this circular family connection than my Uncle Biswajit Basu, the historian and storyteller of the family! 

Here it is, in his own words: 

(From Biswajit Basu)

I'll explain it to you so it is clear once and for all. Tuki is right.  The cause of the confusion is the double relationship.  Here goes the explanation:

Aratidi's son is Sanju and Aratidi is my jethamoshai's (my father's next elder brother's) daughter.  That makes Aratidi Moon's and my first cousin.  Therefore Sanju is Moon and my nephew.  Therefore, by this relationship Sanju is your cousin.

Now, Jorbagh's Maima's brother, Shyamal Jamaibabu, married Aratidi and Sanju is their son.  That makes Aratidi my Maima too and Sanju then becomes my cousin and also your mama.

Now, since my relationship with Aratidi as my first cousin is much closer and more direct than through Shyamal Jamaibabu which is more convoluted, therefore I regard Aratadi as my cousin sister making Sanju my nephew.  That goes for Moon too.  So by this  closer relationship, Sanju is your cousin (but a mama by the more distant relationship)

Who said family branches are always straight! 

👥 The House of Jorbagh-Hauz Khas

On May 27, 2023; we had a wonderful get together celebrating little princess Miss Aadya Chatterjee’s first birthday. This family photo has the current descendants of Bimal Kanti and Pronoti Dey (39, Jorbagh) and Lt. Col. Dr. Mahindra Kumar and Anima (nee Dey) Basu (R-3 Hauz Khas). This photo covers their next 3 generations and stretches across 7 decades, with youngest Aadya, 1 and oldest Biswajit Basu, 74! 

Left to Right:

Front Row: Ashwin (Aashu) Sethia, Aria (Misha) Tripathi

Middle Row: Surabhi (Tuki) Choudhury, Saisha (Ishi) Tripathi, Pallavi (Tina) Choudhury Tripathi, Anuradha (Runki) Bose, Aadya (Pihu) Chatterjee, Ipshita (Dali) Bose Chatterjee, Bashob (Nene) Dey, Debashis Bose

Back Row: Piya Basu, Bhaskar (Joy) Dey, Rupesh Tripathi, Prithvi Basu Kapoor, Sudeshna Ghose Dey, Biswajit (Bablu) Basu, Kirit Chatterjee, Arnav (Neel) Bose. 

Adding in:

Could not attend ✈️: Swati (Tulu) Basu, Deepak Sethia, Bidush (Gizzi) Dey

Deceased 🙏: Panna (PC/Bablu) Choudhury (d. 2015), Monisha (Moon) Choudhury (d. 2021)

… this is the entire current lower section (Gen 4,5,6) of the family branch. And it all originates from 39 Jorbagh and R-3 Hauz Khas, Delhi. 

Chart credit: Madeleine 

(More family tree information and pictures are in 

this post.)

🧭 My Life - An autobiographical poem by Biswajit Basu

An autobiographical poem by Biswajit Basu:

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*My Life* 

1

My emergence in earth began

As in amniotic fluid curled, I lay

There in happiness nine months did pass

Till I burst forth into the world one day.

2

I lay supine in the swaddling clothes I wore,

Wondering what the world had for me in store.

But soon enough I was crawling about,

And began few intelligible words to spout,

And grand was the day when the first step I took,

And for interesting things I began to look,

Then came the day that I could run,

Now my progress surely lay in the sun.

3

Inevitably I started going to school,

Where academically I was declared a fool,

 Till one day a ray of enlightenment passed through me,

It was a special gesture from Goddess Saraswati.

4

Then I entered college where ragging was rife,

And my seniors grilled me to an inch of my life,

A hundred sit ups and relaxing on an imaginary chair,

Was inevitably our daily fare.

While my parents had a serious doubt,

Sailing through, I managed to pass out.

5

Then on ship I did board

Hoping for the life of a feudal lord

Instead in the bilges long hours were spent

In smelly boiler suits wet with sweat.

And never ever finding the golden rivet.

6

But as I rise through the ranks

Life was as good as it gets,

Now I could spend more time reading books

Cruising on a placid sea and watching red sunsets.

7

Soon it was time to marry and children to raise,

As my love for ships and the sea became a craze,

And I took my bride on voyages

to America, Africa and Europe,

To London, Hamburg and the Vatican to visit the Pope.

7

Despite the persistent call of the sea,

Furtherance of my career beckoned to me,

And I entered dredging, a career in mud and soil

It was very hard work in sweat and toil.

But soon came the time I had to say,

Goodbye to the sea and a fresh career path to lay.

8

I entered the field of dredger building without a clue,

But I rapidly learnt and there was not much to rue,

But to explore the world became a new passion,

So trips to corners of the Earth, I began to fashion.

A new love rose of mountain ranges,

The Rockies, the Alps, the Andes

the Himalayas from whence burst forth the Ganges.

In South America, Patagonia, Atacama, Orinoco and the Amazon,

Sometimes I wonder where we have not gone.

9

But all these travels must cease and you cannot stop time and tide,

My only solace is that I've travelled far and wide,

And the many places to where I've been

Helps me appreciate God's hand in what I've seen

But I still miss the rhythmic thump of my ships diesel engines

That comforting sound that seems to wash away my sins.

10

So now I am reduced to wallowing in my old cobwebbed memories,

To see the red sun sink again into the horizon as my

hair ruffles in the sea breeze.

 *Biswajit Basu*

🌀 Narrow Escapes

By Biswajit Basu:

1993:

It was 12 March 1993.  I was in Bombay for work and staying at the Oberoi.  My brother-in-law was coincidentally also in Bombay at the Ambassador and so we decided to meet for dinner after work.

But he suddenly called to say that he had to return to Calcutta that very day and so our dinner was cancelled.

Since I was staying back only for the dinner, I decided to also return to Delhi that night itself as there was no need to stay on in Bombay.  For this I had to change my Indian Airline ticket to get a fresh reservation.

I waddled over to the Indian Airline reservation office (in the Air India building) and waited what seemed like hours for my turn to get a new reservation for that night.  Finally, I got my ticket changed and walked back to my room in the Oberoi.

Suddenly I heard a deafening blast.  Later on, I came to know that terrorists had bombed the Air India building where I had been just  minutes before.  I would probably have been dead if I had to wait a little longer to reach the counter.

A very narrow escape indeed!

(Author Note: More about the 1993 Mumbai bombings is here.)

1973:

But I had another earlier providential escape.  In end 1973, my leave was over and I had to join back.  I was to get married in January 1974 and so I asked for a transfer to a coastal vessel so that I could fly home from any Indian Port.  I was very happy when I was posted to MV Sonavati, a coaster.  I reported to the ship in Calcutta and I was walking back to the dock gates to catch a taxi when I met our boss, Mr Joseph who stopped his car and asked me to hop in.  Once in the car, he told me we were going to the office as I had been transferred to the Jalamatsya sailing for the West Coast of USA, instead.  I protested but Mr Joseph said it was an emergency and assured me I would be flown back to be in time for the marriage wherever in the world I was.  Mr Joseph was known to be a perfect gentleman and I had no doubts about his promise.  I sailed out that night.

A few days into our voyage, I heard the terrible news.  Sonavati had sailed out from Calcutta  for Colombo with a consignment of Tata trucks.  In violent weather in the Bay of Bengal, somewhere off Vizag, the steel wire tethers of the trucks loosened and the trucks started moving about in the hold till one broke loose  and exited out of the ship's hull and fell into the sea leaving a huge hole in the side of the ship.  The sea entered and the ship went down in a few minutes.  Some lifeboats were launched and some jumped into the sea and were rescued.  But some could not because of the violence of the ocean.  They were eaten by sharks in full view of their colleagues.  One of them was the person who was my replacement.

That was a narrow escape otherwise I might have been shark food.

I was told the details of that terrible night by my Electrical Officer (a Sonavati survivor) on a later voyage on the Jaladhruv.

MV Sonavati Wreck site 

(Credit: Wrecksite.eu)

(Author Note: MV Sonavati sank in a cyclone 150 miles off Vishakhpatnam on December 08, 1973. An account by wreck survivor Shashanka Choudhury is in post #53 in this discussion thread.)

(MV Jalamoti, Scindia shipping, which picked up the survivors according to the survivor account of Mr Shashanka Choudhury. Photo from Shipspotting.com)

⛴️ Paddle Steamer Memories

From Biswajit Basu:

These memories are from my early days in Marine College:

While I was appointed to Garden Reach Workshops (GRW, which later became GRSE), for my apprenticeship, my dear friend (from school), Ramakrishna Nair was allocated RSN (the River Steam Navigation) Company which had its works a little downstream from GRW on the Hooghly.

Sometimes, I would bunk from GRW and spend the workday with Nair in RSN (which later became CIWTC).  Those were delightful days which we spent on the old and dilapidated paddle steamers that were tied on the river.  We would admire the gleaming 'open' steam engines with their huge crankshafts and imagine them chugging along on the river.  The gleaming copper fittings on the boilers, guage glasses and asbestos lagged steam pipelines were fascinating and I remember  them with great nostalgia today.  We would drink tea from earthen cups and, leaning over the side of the paddle steamers, watch the floating objects on the river pass by. Those were delightfully languid times and the years were 1966-69, more than half a century ago!

(India’s only surviving paddle steamer as of 2022. Photo credit: Times of India, 2022)

(Author note: More about Marine College is in 

this post.)

📜 Ancestor anecdotes and more

 From Sudeshna De:

An anecdote…Dr Ishaan Tosh Mittra was my maternal great grandfather. The guest house in New Delhi Kali Bari called Ishaan Tosh Hall is named after him and his wife! 

(Edit: This Kali Bari came up around 1930)

The story goes: they were thinking of buying land and building a house in Hailey Road, Delhi. Mrs Mittra was speaking about it to her dear friend Mrs Lala Shriram (unsure on names) who must have mentioned it to her husband. Then, she called up Mrs Mittra and told her that Lalaji has suggested that they invest in Curzon Rd ( KG Marg) as something called Connaught place was going to come up and therefore the land would appreciate more on Curzon Rd. So the land was bought and the house built in 26 Curzon Road.

(Edit: Connaught Place (now called Rajiv Chowk but still CP to most) was built between 1929-1933. Curzon Road, now Kasturba Gandhi Road, is one of its radial roads. 90 years hence, these are prime locations of Delhi. Lalaji was absolutely right!)

(Edit 2: Here is an interesting article written about Curzon Road by someone who saw its growth from the initial residential bungalows to the towering commercial area it is now)

Another famous ancestor was Shri Nandalal Ghose (d. 1904). 

Shri Nandalal Ghose was my paternal grandfather's grandfather. He was a lawyer and was good friends with Vidyasagar who officiated at his wedding. They used to meet often and have discussions over drinks though Vidyasagar didn't drink. 

(Edit: Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar was a famous Indian educator and social reformer in the nineteenth century. More about Vidyasagar here.)