A couple of years back, I had found Jayasish thru Facebook. We were in the same school for our 11th and 12th grades and we were in the same hostel. He was in UK when I called him. It was great catching up on our old friends. Specially since he has kept up with more of our eleventh and twelfth grade friends than I have. I also found out that Jayasish was planning to move back from UK to India to join his family there.

Last December, when I called up “Jasha” (that is how we called him) to wish him a happy birthday, we had agreed to meet up in Kolkata next time I was there. Unfortunately, in March I missed him due to some last minute changes in my schedule in Kolkata. So, this time, I had scheduled specific time for him.

That is how I met Jasha after 31 years. We spent less than two years together in those days – I remember meeting him for the first time on July 10, 1983. We had just checked into our dorms that Sunday. But during our lunch meeting, he blew me away by some of the details he recollected from those twenty months or so. It was also great to meet his wife – Surita and over lunch I got to know about her family and their two daughters.

Jayasish had further let me know about Pratik’s (another friend of ours from those days) whereabouts. Fortunately for me, Pratik changed his plans for the day accommodate a visit when I called him. Saw Pratik too after 31 years. Also was delighted to meet his wife Sampa. Speaking of intersections. turns out Pratik, Sampa and Sharmila all went to the same engineering college (three years apart though). And Pratik could recollect Sharmila from those days!!

It was absolutely thrilling to get to see Jayasish and Pratik after such a long time. I have not been close to a lot of my friends from eleventh and twelfth grade (relatively speaking compared to my friends till tenth grade). The two of them inspired me to start those searches!!

“Mousumi? Tor baaki bhognangsho-ta koi?” (meaning – Mousumi? Where is the rest of you?)

If I told you that I have known Mousumi for 43 years of the 50 years that I have lived in this world, and that she is one person I have kept up with consistently (although mostly by phone), you can be easily excused for not understanding how I missed her in the crowd. Before I left US this time, I knew she was going to visit India too (from Singapore) and that there would be a overlap of a couple of days during our stay in India. We had scheduled in an hour of meeting on Saturday early evening.

Mousumi was my classmate from the first grade. Among the girls in my class, I was closest to her. In fact, you can see in the insets how we looked at that time. Later in life, there was a group of us (including both of us) who became very close and would take trips together during our vacations in college days. Her dad also taught me math during summer vacations. Much later, I used to visit her and her family whenever business travel got me near where they lived. In fact, the last time I saw her was one such trip in Sweden twelve years back. I was there for a few hours. We accompanied her son to his tennis game and during that time, the three of us (including her husband) caught up on our “adda”. And that is the thing. I had not seen her (or her pictures) in the last twelve years. But I had a mental picture of her.

As planned, I arrived at South City mall – a couple of minutes after she had already arrived. As I entered the mall on that Saturday evening, I was immediately accosted by millions of people milling around. I started scanning the crowd quickly to see if I could spot her. Making a phone call would have been efficient but it was way too loud for me to hear anything. I distinctly remember a youngish looking woman coming generally in my direction but I figured she was headed for something or somebody behind me. As my eyes continued to scan the crowd and I almost started fishing out my phone, I noticed that lady now smiling at me. And that is when I realized that it was Mousumi standing in front of me.

She has dropped so much weight and now sports such a different hairstyle and looks so much younger that had she not put on her distinct smile, I might have even gotten irritated at her for blocking my way!! That is when I asked her whatever happened with the rest of her 🙂

Finding a quiet spot at South City mall on a Saturday evening is well nigh impossible. However, I knew of one bar (my brother and I frequent it whenever I am in Kolkata) that tended to be quiet in the early evening (and then really loud once the live music began). We headed up there and then soon walked into the relatively sparsely populated bar. The first thing we had to do is convince the people at the bar to tone down the music going on.

After that, we caught up on the last twelve years and much more. There was a lot to discuss – her son – who is now a full time career person, Indranil-da (her husband), her parents (you might remember them as a set of parents I had visited last March), my parents, family in Atlanta and so on. We have common grounds around ailing parents and in laws. Certainly, we have a lot – I mean a lot of common friends. Since I am the one who keeps up with everybody, I was doing most of the updating 🙂

For good measure, we took a perspective of life ever since we have known each other (which is, as you know by now, virtually all our lives). Some of the interesting discussions included anger management (I have never seen or heard anybody see her getting angry), the pros and cons of being introverted, what possibly would our tombstones say, some of the most important lessons we have learnt in life and what we admire most about some of our common friends.

My big mistake was scheduling one hour to catch up with her. I should have known better. By the time I got a reminder call from my brother, we had been sitting there for three hours. I could have gone for another three hours without missing a beat but there were two nephews waiting for me and some good chow-mien I had promised them at their favorite restaurant!

We left soon promising not to wait for another twelve years before the next meeting!!

I had just dropped my nephews at their house last morning and was running a tad late for the lunch meeting with my St. Xavier’s school friends. The temptation was very high though to take a slight detour and visit Mr. Kolay. Eventually, that is what I did.

Subrata Kolay and I go back to fifth grade. I count him and his wife Sharmistha in my close friends’ list. I was aware that last quarter onwards his dad has not been doing well. He is the same age as my father and I was saddened to hear about his fast deteriorating health. Especially since when I saw him last – actually the only time that I have seen him before – and that was when he was tending to Sharmistha when she herself was fighting back some health issues – he had seemed to be a very healthy and hearty gentleman – certainly for his age.

He was expecting me since I had to call Subrata up in Houston to get the address and Subrata had promptly related that to him. I spent a very fulfilling forty five minutes with him and Mrs. Kolay as well as Subrata’s brother. Most of the chatting happened with Mr. Kolay. It was very encouraging to see him in a very positive frame of mind. He might be ailing but you cannot get a word of despair or negative outlook from him.

Instead, he started asking me after our school and school friends. I was stunned – and I mentioned this to him multiple times – by how many of our school friends’ names he could recollect. For some of them, I had to pause to remember what they are up to these days so that I could let him know.

Like I said, it was a very quick trip. Later in the evening I got a message from Subrata that his parents were excited by the trip. Sure as heck I am hoping that they were not just being polite. I have been feeling a little guilty about not spending some more time with them. There is that time being the only finite resource thing… I think they deserved some more from me… These are the kind of people that shaped me when I was very young… I really want to come back and make it up during the next trip.

I studied in St. Xavier’s for six years – fifth thru tenth grade. But made a lot of life long friendships there. Over the years, that batch of hundred odd kids has managed to keep up with each other and many of their families are close friends today. Little surprise then that whenever I am in a city in India, somehow a few of us from our school manage to make some time to have a lunch or a drink or a dinner together.

Thank you Jayanta, Abhijit, Ansuman, Niladri and Arindam for gifting me with your time and braving the heavy rains in Kolkata and almost wading your way through to our lunch spot. Little did I know in 1978 sitting in those small benches that we would actually be sitting together again around a lunch table nearly forty years later. But I certainly am glad that I got a chance to start that journey with you on that day …

We were getting ready early in the morning to start from Durgapur to Kolkata when my brother and I had a brainwave – since we had covered some of my favorite subjects the previous day, why not see if we can cover my least favorite subject too. We knew the rough area and the rest we figured we would wing it. It was easier said than done. We got a little lost and had to make calls to a friend in Delhi to bail us out.

But that is how I met “Shanti sir” or “PT Sir” as he was called during our school days. After 31 years again!! Now PT sir was less of a teacher to us and more of a friend. I recollect him to be very jolly, very active and always smiling – almost bordering on breaking into a laughter at the least provocation. And he has not changed one bit. You can see from the picture – it would be hard to place him to be in his sixties.

Yesterday, I learnt his fascinating family history. Especially how he got to be a PT teacher because his dad wisely got him to leave our state to shield him from all the Naxal movement that was holding ground. And how he aced some of the athletics tests (I think in Gwalior) and the rest has been history.

There are a lot of memories I have of PT Sir. Two stick out. The first one was the day when I broke out into a bout of typhoid (see a previous blog about our Geography miss). He was the guy who had taken off his jacket seeing me shiver and put it on me instinctively. I remember bobbing in and out of deep sleep – and I felt a little comfortable at one point of time. Opened my dreary eyes and realized I had his jacket on me and he was standing next to me.

The second incident was very funny. As a background, just like many who know me today and not from before get surprised when they see any old picture of mine with a head full of thick and lush hair (I was not born this way, you know 🙂 Actually, I was. But that is not my point 🙂 ) similarly, they would find it very surprising to know that in spite of all my running and marathons and attention to physical health today, I was a terrible athlete most of my life. Using the word athlete itself would be a stretch.

I was a very wiry, nerdy guy. With parents extremely focused on my studies. I liked playing. And would try to do so whenever my parents were not watching. But I was outrageous in my skills. Rumors in school had it that I would not even know which end of a soccer ball to kick. Regrettably, there was a lot of merit to it. On an aside, I played soccer for my college team later in life but I will tell you that story later. It was more of a question of relative excellence since I studied then in a part of India that was not too familiar with that sport 🙂

If following PT sir’s instructions to run after the ball was not scary (because seven other guys would outrun me to the ball), attending the PT exams was an outright nightmare. I think it was such a test in my eighth grade. Or was it my ninth grade? In any case, he split us into two teams to play field hockey. In that entire period, the sum total of times that I touched the ball was – mmmm… let me think … if I count all the flicks, long shots, short passes, hard hits and accidental brushes with the ball….. ummm.. yeah, it was a big fat ZERO 🙂 In the end PT sir gave me a chance to hit the ball in the goal with nobody around but just the goalie. It took me three independent attempts to connect with the ball. That one time that did connect, for good measure, I connected with a whole lot of ground too. My chattering teeth moved much more than the ball did.

In any case, at the end of the whole episode, PT sir declared the grades for each students. I was one of the only three students to have achieved the distinction of getting a “C” grade. Everybody else got “A” or “B”. In fact, most got “A”. Frankly, it did not bother me. My parents would have not let me back in to the house if I ever brought back a “B” grade in any subject, but they did not care about my PT grade.

The funny thing happened a little later. First, I would not say that I was not disappointed. I was hoping for a “B”. May I remind you that I did connect with the ball eventually and it did head out in a generally appropriate direction? An “A” would have been uncalled for since it stopped within about a foot. A couple of my classmates – I distinctly remember Kushal, Jayanta, Sanjiv and Biplab walking up to PT Sir and saying – “Sir, O class-er first boy. Okay C grade dilen”? Basically they pleaded for a better grade for me on the grounds that I was the “first boy”. PT Sir, in one of those “I may be a teacher but I am your friend first” moment, promptly upgraded me to a “B” grade. I was elated! I plotted how to come up with stories of my excellent footwork and all that while explaining my hard earned “B” grade to my parents – then thought the better of it and opted for the real story. My dad had a good laugh!! My mom – who would have a fifty fifty chance to knowing which end of my hockey stick to hold – totally thought I deserved it. On a good day, I might have even got an “A”, she thought.

You can only imagine PT Sir’s surprise when I told him about my marathon runs. Once he had settled down from his guffaws, he looked at my brother (who, by the way was a true athlete and PT sir’s favorite student) and he confirmed what I had just said. In one of those spontaneous moves, PT Sir came over to me and shook my hand!! I could not believe it!! That was my triumphant moment!! I had finally earned our PT sir’s respect! Finally I got my “A” grade. Without any assist from Kushal, Jayanta, Sanjiv or Biplab!! Eleven years of trudging along the trails in merciless heat, torrential rain and bone chilling snow – all of that was made totally worthwhile – by that one handshake!!

I am a painfully slow learner but I eventually got there. Over thirty years later!!