The Bengali Professor

The Bengali professor had just retired from active government service six years back. His wife Suchitra had six more years of service after her husband's retirement. His own name was Prof Rajonikanto Ghosh. However, his wife was Prof Suchitra Pradhan. She was an Odia student of his whom he had taught political science and international relations at Ravenshaw University.

Suchitra was now seething with intense anger. She had declared she wanted a divorce from the old professor. She wanted to get him convicted of adultery.

However, she did nothing of the sort she had threatened. She killed herself and got rid of her heartaches forever.

However, speculation spread Prof Ghosh had significant political connections which helped him to dub the death as natural, resulting from a massive heart attack.

We knew Prof Ghosh was responsible for her decision to end her life. The cause of her suicide was Prof Ghosh's adopted daughter Mousumi. Mousumi was a divorcee with a small girl to look after. She was endowed with unequalled beauty and glamour. Prof Ghosh had picked her from his maternal uncle's village, reportedly to lighten Suchitra's load of household chores.

When Mousumi arrived in Bhubaneswar, she had only a modest attaché case and a few other belongings. We had first seen her in a saree. However, as time passed, she appeared to be highly fashionable. She appeared in expensive jeans, wore fashionable high-heeled shoes and dark sunglasses. It appeared she had plenty to wear and took proper care of her beautiful person. One thing that had troubled Suchitra was the way her husband generously offered cash to the big girl. She strongly disapproved of the way her husband pampered Mousumi's daughter Shraboni. What was not at all bearable was Mousumi learned how to drive the professor's Honda City most perfectly. Suchitra's best efforts had failed to enable her to drive the car.

In the evenings, we would gather in the bazaar to drink coffee and engage in talks about every topic. The greengrocer Pravakar was a storehouse of jokes and endless banter. The clothstore owner Shyam Aggarwal never missed a single meet. After the professor's wife died, he became the butt of our criticism. The inhabitants of the locality were terribly cross with the professor. Pravakar would tell us how the youths loved to irritate and annoy the old man. Once the professor was sitting in a chair in a teashop sipping hot tea on a cold morning. The shop was just a wooden cabin. Two boys burst a powerful firework behind it. The explosion was such that the professor had fallen down from his chair. The old man had chased the boys half a mile in vain. When he asked people about their identity, no one revealed their names. This had led to a bitter altercation between the professor and the shopkeepers lasting for an hour.

The panipuri man would often tell us, "Now the old man will come to take a parcel from me for his "maal". The professor was a rude and bad-tempered person. This excited the boys a lot. On seeing him, a boy would shout, "Dada, kemon achhen?" or "Sei sundari mahilake bhalobaso, Dada?"

The indignant professor would say, "Ami tumar Ma ke bhalobasi. . !" 

Elderly people had told the old man to keep quiet so that the boys would automatically stop teasing him. But the professor was unable to stand the teasing which grew in intensity with time.

One cold morning the professor was drinking tea in another teashop. A youth was reading The Times of India loudly:"The sixty-five year-old American businessman Herbert Thompson married twenty-three year model Cherry Bates from California in a simple ceremony in his ancestral house in New York. . . . . . "  

Someone shouted in the distance, "Dada, kemon achhen. . . . ?". . . "Tumar maal kuthae. . . . ?" The professor left the teashop muttering to himself, "Bastards. . !Go to hell, you devils. . !"

The professor's bad temper was a source of endless humour. The children didn't spare Mousumi either. " Main kaa karoon Ram mujhe buddha mil gaya. . . . " The boys would sing this song to ruffle her temper and annoy her. She had once complained to the local police. Nothing happened. Henceforth, she would hurl abusive words at the boys. The police were with the people. One policeman had once said, "The old man is lucky to have a young and glamorous girlfriend. . . These things are common in the West. Young girls marry old men only to grab their wealth. . This is becoming part of our culture nowadays. . . The world is heading towards its ultimate collapse. . . "

Another police constable had said, "Bengalis. . ? Whether men or women, they constantly think of dirty things. . . A real nasty people. . !"

Advertisement

Once a video clip became viral showing the old man sitting in a cane chair while Mousumi dipped biscuits in a teacup and fed him. The boys in the colony, it seemed, were always after the old man and his girlfriend. Ultimately, the elderly men of the society wanted to do something so that the professor and his girlfriend might leave. Their presence was sure to have a bad influence on the people there. They told the boys to gather proofs to banish them forever. I said to the society members, "We are not legally empowered to do anything against them.

We live in an age where everybody has the right to live the way he or she likes. " 

Mr. Venkataesh Rao, a railway officer, said to me in pure natural Odia, "Sir you're a college lecturer. You have taught our children. We respect you. However, that doesn't mean you'll teach us what to do and what not. . . " I realised my mistake and preferred to leave the spot, but couldn't do so as that would offend the others there. Instead, I sat there and listened to them. One of them referred to Ram Rahim Baba and his adopted daughter Honeypreet and her husband's allegations of Baba having illicit relations with her.

When I reached home, my wife was livid with rage. She always wanted me to be neutral in society matters. A boy named Sonu had told everything to her. The next morning I was astonished to know that the people were discussing me as a great friend and supporter of the professor. Someone had told that writers were highly romantic and were perfect womanizers. They knew that I had a knack for writing and had some published works. I had made only two visits to the professor's place.

The unmarried men of the locality grudged the old professor having the good fortune of owning such a beautiful young woman. Some of them talked to her, but she seemed to avoid them. It was an accepted fact that the woman was after the professor's property. Now the society members were resolved to catch the old man red-handed. They were looking for an opportunity to do the needful.

When the month of April was drawing to a close, the professor, Mousumi and her daughter Shraboni were reported to be leaving for Europe. The professor granted a month's leave to the maid-servant with her full salary in advance.

It was Monday. The professor, Mousumi and her daughter Shraboni were in the bazaar. As it was hot, they were drinking Coca-Cola. I was driving to college. The old man managed to see me and smiled. I stopped for a while and talked to them and wished them good luck.

A tall blackish boy who was going past us, when at a safe distance, roared,

"Dada, honeymooner jano Europee jachhen. . . ?"

The professor picked a stone and flung it at the boy who took to his heels like lightning.

After they had left, the society members deliberated a lot. I avoided them pretending work pressure and involvement in personal matters. However, it transpired that the culprits were going to be caught;the trap had been laid from which there was no escape.

When the professor's family returned from their foreign tours, I was very eager to know what the society members had found out. Once I met Venkatesh Rao in the medicine store. With humour and mischief in my eyes, I enquired: "Brother, what about the old boy?" He gestured to me to be silent. We went to a lonely spot. He showed me a CCTV footage. It was very clearly visible on his cellphone. I saw the professor lying on bed. Close to him in a chair was seated the glamour-laden woman.

The old man was speaking: "Except you nobody understood me in this world. Of course, my mother loved me most unselfishly. I had a brother. . . He left for Canada and completely forgot me. My wife's miserliness and my willingness to help the needy always clashed. We didn't have a child. Mother Kali was kind enough to give me a daughter like you. I don't think I'm going to live long. I can die any moment. . Nobody gave me so much love and affection as you do. My child, you must fulfill a wish of your old Papa. My friend Ashok has a son; the boy is an RBI employee. I have talked to his parents and they will be very happy to have you as their daughter-in-law. I want you married before I close my eyes. "

Mousumi was sobbing and crying profusely insisting on staying by her Papa's side as long as she lived.

Mr Rao said they fitted CCTV in his house during his absence. There was absolutely nothing wrong or objectionable in their relationship. Both were examples for others to follow. Now it was as if there was silence after the storm had blown over.

             ----O-----