আশুতোষ ঘোষ

জয় ঘোষ

'পিছন ফিরে দেখা'

চোখের কোণে চিকচিক করে জল ,
পিছন ফিরে হঠাৎ করে দেখা,
সবুজ ঘাসের স্বপ্নের সেই দেশ,
স্কাউটস ডেনের ঘাসেতে ছবি আঁকা। 

ফুটবল পায়ে আমগাছেতে মারা,
দৌড় দিয়ে হঠাৎ পালিয়ে যাওয়া,
কালবোশেখের ঝড়ের বিকেলেতে,
গেঞ্জি ভর্তি আমি কুড়িয়ে পাওয়া। 

বর্ষাকালের প্যাচপ্যাচে সেই কাদা,
তার মধ্যে ফুটবলে লাথি মারা,
কাদাজল মেখে সন্ধ্যায় বাড়ি ফেরা,
পড়ার টেবিলে মাথা গুঁজে বই পড়া।

পনেরো তেইশ ছাব্বিশ সব তারিখ
মনের মধ্যে এখনো যে আছে গাঁথা,
প্যারেড সেরে ডিম্ পাউরুটি গজা,
মাংস ভাত চাটনির সে কি মজা। 

জাকিরদা'কে দেখে কি যে আমি ভয় পেতাম,
দেখলে পরেই দৌড়ে পালিয়ে যেতাম,
লন-টেনিসের কোর্টটা যে আজ ফাঁকা,
লাল সুঁড়কির রং যে মনেতে গাঁথা।

কত কত কথা আছে যে ভিড় করে,
স্মৃতির কোণায় খোঁচা দিয়ে দেখলাম,
সহজ সরল ছিল যে এক দুনিয়া,
ছোট ছোট সুখ সহজেই খুঁজে পেতাম।

আজকের ছেলে জানে যে অনেক কিছু,
গুগল-ইমেল সবকিছু তার পাঠ,
ফেসবুকেতে ফ্রেন্ড-লিস্ট তার অনেক,
তবু মনে হয় কোথায় রয়েছে ফাঁক।

সময় নেই আর ছুটছি যে ভাই সবাই,
কোথায় যাব যে কেউ জানিনে যে আমরা,
পিছন ফিরে হঠাৎ দাঁড়িয়ে দেখি,
সোনালী রোডের উজ্জ্বল সন্ধ্যা। 

Shobhana Rao (Mini Krishnaswamy)

As I sit at Cinnamon Cafe

An oasis in the heart of Bengaluru

Listening to ‘Hotel California‘

Sipping a Kashmiri kahwa 

A wave of nostalgia sweeps over me 

And I make a rendezvous with my memories

"Chance and choice make you who you are” said Simone du Beauvoir 

Dunlop happened to me in much the same way as it did to you,

By CHANCE

Glamourous and chic, smart and funny

From ‘Abhi Na Jao Chhod kar‘ to Rasputin

Be it Holi, Diwali or Christmas, revelry was the name of the game.

If you think your life is a party, baby, you ain’t seen nothing at all

Coffee mornings, weekly Bingo, daily pegs, annual Christmas events ..

Each occasion called for a special celebration!

Holi, 

colourful, playful and lively,

The sharp pain of the water balloons

The gentle smearing of aabir 

The cat and mouse chase 

Till one surrenders ..

Uncles and boys both eyeing for a chance to flirt!

Let’s hop, skip and jump over the unpleasant summers

Straight into the mother of all festivities

The iconic Pujo and Diwali 

Nothing I can say can ever do justice to this time of the year

From the Mahalaya call to the Nobomi dhol to the Bijoya

Nadu prosad, to the Divine Khichudi and Begun bhaja

Such gastronomic ecstasy!

Durga Maa, thank you for such kindness.

The fading dhol beats, and cool nip in the air

I, expectant and comforted

Eager and joyful that

Diwali was here.

’Twas my turn to get new outfits 

We had to keep the South Indian traditions, my maa would say!

The pure joy of choosing the Tubris, rockets, charkis, dodomas in Burrabazar.

And then, 

Sunning the loot in the sun verandah..

Will you ever understand, I tell my kids,

When less meant a lot?

My house would fill up with the aroma of Amma’s 

obbatus, laddus, and mixture.

Come evening, a million twinkling candles would light our lives.

What a sight it was to behold!

Who can forget the joy of the Christmas parties,

Eagerly awaited and keenly contested

With fancy dress competitions, innovative games, and the most exotic of snacks

Bold and beautiful, Ms. Dunlop 

And the ever-jovial Subroto Uncle as Santa

I can vividly recall.

Cut to the present, Bengaluru,

the city of my choice

Here I am, about to turn 50

Feeling alive yet peaceful,

Loving every minute,

Staying true to myself,

Unapologetic for my choices

I’ve come a long way, I tell myself, from Bandel to Bengaluru.

Cheers to this incredible journey that I am extremely fortunate to be a part of

Surrounded by the love of my husband, children, parents, brother, friends past and present,

I feel truly blessed and grateful.

There is no better time than now to be grateful for the past.

For all the aunties and uncles who crafted my childhood 

A very, very big thank you, from me to you

Bandel and Bengaluru,

Hope I’ve made you as proud as I am of you.

Jagoron “Utso” Mukherjee (s/o P.K. Mukherjee)

My childhood in Dunlop was quite uneventful.  There was nothing haunting, or defining about it.  A linear predictable narrative lacking much twists and turns.  The confined universe of Dunlop, in fact, roused the burning quest for what’s outside - how was life in the other side of the “fence”.  This mystery drove my focus of youthful romanticism and defined my exploration in the world.  In fact, when I moved out of Dunlop, it was like a vast open space on my boyish dreams, filling me with wonder and amazement.  This “involuntary memory” (as Proust would say) rouses the same feeling over and over again - with every move, every relocation, and every new place I visit.  Dunlop has faded in my memory - under layers of later experiences.  It is only recently as a father of a three and half year old, I find myself dwelling on my formative years in Dunlop, as I try to recollect my own and match against his developing life.  And specifically, indulging in my all-consuming sense of anxiety – that converges on one question - what course will he choose?

Remembering and cherry-picking from the past is a risky business to apply to present life.  Where I find refuge, though, is in the idea that it is hard to think forward, and much easier to look backward.  It was impossible to imagine my present placing myself in Dunlop and thinking forward.  Not even close!  On the contrary looking back it seems so easy to connect the dots, even why I chose the road I chose whenever it came to a fork, presenting multiple choices.  Today, as I look back, I see three simple but connected forces charted me through the course of my life.  A longing for beauty, a consistent desire to feed my curiosity, and finding joy through work.  And all three were shaped by my childhood years in Dunlop. 

 Dunlop was far away from the usual sources of beauty that draw one’s natural awe and admiration.  It was not close to museums, zoos, Disneylands, art galleries or any grandiose architecture.  But what it provided was a setting to appreciate beauty in simple things.  Not just through the visually immediacy of manicured shrubbery that partitioned the open green patches, the neatly painted signs, or the pothole free roads - but also in a broader sense.  Spending close to nature was a big part of growing up.  Most houses had a backyard that was big enough to grow vegetables.  There was a sense of rhythm that started with the morning sirens, that like a call to prayer almost bestowed a divine chime to daily work.  Children going to school, men going and coming back to work (yes most of factory workers were men!) and then the din of evening fading into the croaking of frogs and empty streets lit with white mercury street lights that automatically switched on at dusk, something that was magical to my childhood eyes.  There was a busy calendar of festivals that were celebrated.  There was splendor and color - in dresses, music, dances, dramas, food, fetes and soirees. The creative process was as important and engaging as the final outcome. The after-party conversations went for long to keep the fun and frolic alive. So were the sports.  Whether it was cricket in the winters or soccer in the summers the thrill of our boyish excursions mattered more than winning at least for most of us.  The annual sports day was an extravaganza.  We would imagine ourselves as Gavaskar for a moment, then next as Maradona, and then Tom Sawyer.  Little things occupied our mindshare for long.  The gradual buildup of a wasp hive in our window sill, until one day two men from the factory showed up to take it out.  The mango tree that mysteriously produced only two mangoes after a bountiful previous year, or crafting an entire ghost story around a set of skeletons that one of my neighbors was using for medical school. 

We lived a life that kept feeding our sense of wonder that both evoked our sense of reason as well as pampered our whims and superstitions.  Neighbors fed into my curiosity rather than stifling or snubbing my constant barrage of the what, how, why, where, and when.  There was no Google back then but there was always someone who knew something about something you asked. Veracity and accuracy was of course not always guaranteed (but then is it much different in our world of fake news today?).  This helped in sowing interests of all kinds - from Tagore to Alexander Pope, Tintin to Sandesh, Sherlock to Feluda.  Then there was music, chess, kite-flying, trading marbles - anything that we could imagine was within our limits.  We welcomed the world of color TV, Walkman, and VCRs.  If someone had a talent - that was amplified and exaggerated to the extreme - and if there was some material for a juicy story - facts put aside, everyone caught on to it quickly.  In all, the privileges in Dunlop were outrageous: vast quantities of sunshine, space, nature, food, swimming pools and tennis courts, non-stop water and electricity.  In the end, we all knew that life did revolve around my father’s work. That was the keystone around which our own lives were all intertwined.  It served as the common bedrock that kept all of us afloat and do things we all enjoyed.

 Thinking, reminiscing and resurfacing this past in one thing - but then what is its relevance to my present and future?  After-all dwelling on nostalgia is not my thing.  I am raising my child growing up in a different land, in surroundings overloaded with advice, opinions, and options - that recite the merits and de-merits of all sorts of parenting - from free-ranging, positive reinforcement, helicoptering, to “scream-free”, and so many other ways.  I can’t but wonder the contrast against my homogenous childhood, the blessed quietism, an idyll certainty - with even hints of irresponsibility – a place where time seemed to be in some poetic suspension of blissful stasis.  Overlooking the occasional small-mindedness and cliquishness, we who grew up in our times, will have our own individual Dunlop stories, and naturally a shared longing for that time.  I often wish I can collect the important pieces that I can and weave into a tapestry to pay homage to the life I lived there.  For the Dunlop lifestyle was for a different time and has run its course.  But it will always act a marker on driving home to the more important things.  That a simple life can be a happy life for the child.  And even go far as to trust that I don’t need to be so anxious about the future, for focusing on a handful of things that matter goes a long way.  Appreciating beauty in simple things, developing a curious mind, value lifelong friendships and the basic art of give and take to live in a community.

 There is an ancient African saying that it takes a village to raise a child, which more recently Hillary Clinton used for the title of her book and made it a bit of a hackneyed political sound-bite.  At my own peril, I bring it up for its aptness and its timeless relevance, in rendering and characterizing my growing up in Dunlop as being raised by a village.  Defined by community, with impressive degrees of inclusion and friendliness there is no question that it is the people of Dunlop that made who we are, who by the coincidence of time and place happened to be there.  People who were not bonded by blood but through shared experiences, values, and consciousness.  And hence, while on one side we lament that the demise of the physical attributes of Dunlop, that it has spiraled into a ghost town, wiping out the objects and surroundings, burying our memories with it -- on the other side the idea of Dunlop lives on, quite resiliently.  While the tires have disappeared from the shelves of dealers, we still wear the name as a badge of honor.  

In its heydays, Dunlop was known for its distinctive advertisement campaigns.  One of the last ones I remember was the “Citizen Dunlop” campaign.  Back then I found it quite disappointing - it was too esoteric and abstract - something that lacked the usual punch worthy of a Dunlop ad.  Now 30 years later, maybe in an irony of fate - it is citizen Dunlop that bears witness to how we come together to rekindle old bonds, keep turning the pages in our lives, and keep the Dunlop spirit alive in our hearts.

Bijon Bose

My elder daughter, Mahasweta, requested me to pen down some of my memories of Scouting in Dunlop Sahagunj. Before I delve into those yester-years, I sincerely congratulate our succeeding generation of youngsters, for their earnest endeavour to stoke the embers of the Dunlop spirit, which has never really gone out....and memories of Dunlop as it was in its golden days.

Travelling down memory lane, I recollect the formation of a movement that became successful by way of gathering young boys and girls to become a part of the internationally renowned Scouts & Guides movement.  Those of us who were associated with the organization, do gratefully recognize the great impact Scouting & Guiding made in our lives.

Way back in the 1950s, two Dunlop executives, Mr. Mrityunjoy Mukherjee & Mr. P.K. Bose, were exploring the possibilities of channelizing the energy of the Dunlop youth to become good citizens of the country. Hence the origin of the Bharat Scouts & Guides movement in Dunlop Sahagunj. It is said that providence supports good intentions! The Bose & Mukherjee duo came to know of one Phanindra Nath Chatterjee (Later ‘Phanida’ to all and sundry), a trained Scoutmaster with exposure to scouting within the country and abroad. Phanida, very enthusiastically accepted their invitation to develop a Scouts Troop for the Dunlop boys. Gradually a Cub Pack, a Guide Company, a Bulbul Flock and finally a Rover Crew were set up with children from 7 years onward to young men up to the age of 25 years.

I cannot but mention here another fine young Anglo-Nepalese bachelor, Mr Frank Samuel Jordan, later affectionately known as ‘Borda’ to everyone, who was a very prominent figure in the Scouts / Guides movement at Dunlop. 60 years later I still recollect the Adventure Training Programs that we undertook every Sunday morning in the adjoining jungle, full of rabbits, snakes and jackals. Canned sardines and bread was available aplenty - courtesy Borda. Camping trips to far and distant places was an added attraction, where we did not merely enjoy but learnt many worthwhile life – oriented skills.

In 1952/53, when the management staff flats were being built along the ‘Link Road’ the executive committee of Dunlop Scouts and Guides managed to persuade the Dunlop Management to convince the builders, Britania Engg Co. to build a Scouts’ Den free of cost. The Scouts and Rover, in turn, provided a part of the labour support.

                                  

Scouting / Guiding flourished thereafter in great spontaneity. I take pride in being one of the first few President’s Scouts from West Bengal.  Sometimes in the late 1950s, I was one of the privileged four young men to travel to Delhi to attend a President’s Scouts/ Guides rally where we received the coveted President's Award from Dr. S. Radhakrishnan, the then Hon’able President of India.  We were also invited to Tea meets, one hosted by the then Prime Minister Sri Jawaharlal Nehru and Mrs. Indira Gandhi and a second one hosted by Sri Govind Ballav Pant, the Home Minister of India at the time. Afterwards I tried to put the acquired knowledge to good use by training as a Scout-master to help mould youngsters in Dunlop.

Before I conclude, I have no hesitation in acknowledging the enormous benefit I have derived through my Scouting training, not only in my personal life but also in my professional career spanning 50+ years. 

Bharat scout guide jhanda uncha sada rahega,
Uncha sada rahega jhanda, uncha sada rahega.
Neela rang gagan sa vistrut bhatru bhav failatha,
Tridal kamal nit teen pratigna onki yad dilate
Aur chakr kehata hei prathipal agey kadam badega
Uncha sada rahega jhanda uncha sada rahega

Jyoti Brata Roychowdhury: an obituary

Our beloved Mr. J B Roychowdhury recently left for his heavenly abode. He was a much respected person and a true blue Dunlopian and in touch with many through social media until his last breath. We would like to pay homage to this towering personality by sharing his own words. May his soul rest in peace.

Here are some of his Facebook posts

On the photo above

Boro meye r abdar - amar Jonmodine ekta bhalo Seiko wrist watch pathiyeche San Jose theke - oke ghorita pore chobi tule pathate hobe. Wife ke Nursing Home dekhte jabar samoy Nathbou gari te chobita tuleche - meye ke FB te pathiye diyeche . Ebar hath rohoshya uddhar holo?

 On Jha Jha Singh’s hotel

To all my Dunlop descendants let me share with u our first experience of famous Jha Jha Singh.

1970 September - We were a decade old Dunlopians but brand new entrants to Dunlop Sahaganj Compound, occupants of Old Block ghost flat H on the second floor which had a small beautiful terrace attached overlooking the river. Eldest daughter Milly was 8 (now 53) & twins Pompi / Shompi 5 (50 now). Ages declared only to establish it was a 45 year old narration when perhaps many of you were not born even.

Veer Sagar invited us one evening to Sahaganj's Grand Hotel (as he described it, famous for his wits). That was our first ever visit to a Sardarji's Dhaba. In those days, Tarka / Roti used to be served in 'chil ke otha kolai kora sada plate e'. Rita was hesitating (later converted into Dhaba food lover). I still recall late Monu Puranesh / Nikhil Mukherjee's loud calls "Hari " who was Jha Jha's Cook cum serving Bearer.

We all including some expatriates became so fond of Jha Jha Singh food that the Dhaba became part of our evening life of Sahaganj. We used to visit Jha Jha Singh even at 1 am in the night after some party quite often. During my two phases of Dunlop Sahaganj life (1970 - 82 & 1988 - 93) Rita & I had possibly visited the Dhaba with different crowds at least 1000 times. After retirement while visiting the Dhaba few times I never got that old feeling back though a lot of cosmetic changes including cutlery/crockery had taken place. Even now we recall our memory of old Jha Jha Singh with nostalgic warmth.

On Tapan Mukherjee’s post on Flat 189

Dear Tapan - appreciate your superb story telling skill. Truly "our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thoughts". Like ' Quiet flows the Don', quiet flows our Ganga, silent witness of centuries Rise & Fall of Empires, Kingdoms & heritage institutions, on her banks - recent one being Dunlop Sahaganj, India's first Automotive Tyre plant . Compliment you once again for your commendable writing.

On the 30^th Dec 2017 meet that he ultimately could not meet

Dear Tapan - my heartfelt thanks for this memorable "Journey Down the Memory Lane". Amader Dunlop next generation - Mumma/Munia (Basab-Karobi), Mahasweta (Bijon), Ashok-Tutu Das Gupta r boro chele, Debu Gupta r chele o aro onek e mile amader 'fele asha dinguli' r smriti bachiye rakhbar ek sundor prochesta korche year-end Get Together er madhyam e. Ami Mahasweta ke bolbo tomai contact korte Tomar sundor lekha r jonno. Valo theme. Likhe jao.

On his humanitarian side

Brojo : This is the same Zamindar, who said to Brojo in May 1984 that till such time he gets an alternative job/assignment, the family of 4 members of Brojo, would be looked after by this JBda, the great heart and soul - my sincere gratitude
and good wishes goes to him.

JB : Hi Brojo, my highly misunderstood but always well-intentioned & never shrunk to call a spade a spade in public, that valiant fighter has at long last cooled down & now spending a pleasant holiday with his darling daughter Tuli & family at California. I'm missing his oft quoted smiling request after a heated Institute meeting "JB da cholo Club e jai ". Dear Brojo - so happy to see u r spending Quality Family Time in rainy cold climate of California. God bless u all.

And the homages keep pouring in . .

Aniruddha Sen - we were very close in my Sahaganj days. Even before that when he was in Purchasing and I was in Technical, we attended the Technical/Purchasing Liaison Committee meetings every quarter. He was a great organiser. I feel sad for the crumbling Sahaganj edifice. Most stalwarts are gone

Naveen Jain - An era has come to end. He was a great friend and colleague. Always ready to help.

Sourav Ghosh - Was deeply grieved yesterday morning when heard the sad news. JBda was a towering personality and socially was in touch with so many of Dunlop Family member. He was also an inspiration to the next generation of Dunlopians. Yes, he will be missed by all. We convey our deep condolence for the bereaved family. Pray that his soul rests in peace

Kripal Gill - JB sir loved addressing me as SON. Miss him extremely

Tridib Biswas - Very sad to hear the news. End of an era. What a dynamic person he was, earned the respect of so many people for his simple person to person contact beyond his official capacity. Lot of memories are there and I believe al the Dunlopians will feel a vacuum into the core of their hearts. My heartiest homage.

.

Tapan Kumar Mukherjee

আজ থেকে পঞ্চাশ বছর আগে আমি কোলিয়ারি থেকে এসে হুগলি নদীর পশ্চিম পারের এক নামী বিশাল প্রতিষ্ঠানে যোগ দিলাম । পদোন্নতি হতে বছর কয়েক পর কোম্পানির estate এ উঠে এলাম। প্রথমে এক কামরার সুখি গৃহ কোন । পদোন্নতির সাথে সাথে আরো বেশি যায়গার বড় ফ্ল্যাট । 1980 নাগাদ , আমি গাড়ি সুপারেনটেনডেনট হলাম (এই পদে এলে কোম্পানি অর্ধ লাখ টাকা গাড়ি কেনার জন্য ধার দিত বিনা সুদে।তাই দুষ্টু লোকদের এই নামকরন)।এবং নুতন আবাসে উঠে এলাম ।189 নম্বর । তখনো কোম্পানির নেই নেই করে অনেক কিছুই আছে । ফায়ার ব্রিকস রঙের পর পর দোতলা বাড়ি,ইঁট বের করা প্লাস্টার ছাড়া।সামনে এক ঝাঁক উজ্জ্বল মানেজমেনট Trainee দের বাসস্থান Bower, একপাসে Scouts den, অদুরে টেনিস কোর্ট ,,ক্লাব রাস্তার ওপারে swimming pool, Squash খেলার ঘর। হিন্দি বাংলা দুটো হাই স্কুল ।গড়ে ওঠার মুখে ইংরেজি মাধ্যমের আরেক টা স্কুল। অদুরে স্টেডিয়াম, বিরাট চত্বরের সুবিশাল স্বপ্নের নগরী।নববর্ষে প্রভাত ফেরি, ক্লাবে রবীন্দ্র সন্ধ্যা, কুইজের আসর। ড্রামাটিক ক্লাব। আমাদের একজন টেকনিক্যালের বন্ধু "মদন হাজিরে" তার অসামান্য অভিনয়ের জন্য মদন নামের আড়ালে নিজের নামটাই হারিয়ে ফেললো।

  

সে ছিল সাহিত্য কৃষ্টির যুগ। একবার কতৃপক্ষ তখন কার বিখ্যাত কবি সাহিত্যিক দের আমন্ত্রণ জানিয়েছিল। কারখানা দেখার জন্য । 1981 সালের ঘটনা । বিকেলে তাঁরা স্কাউট ডেনে আবাসনের মহিলাদের সাথে ইনফরমাল আলাপ চারিতায় যোগ দিলেন । কে আসেন নি।, নীরেন চক্রবর্তী,সুনীল গাঙ্গুলি, শংকর,শংকরী প্রসাদ,কবিতা সিংহ বিমল মিত্র, অমিতাভ চৌধুরী, সাগর ময় ঘোষ,শীর্ষেন্দু,পার্থসারথি চৌধুরী আরো অনেকে। সে এক ঢাকাই শাড়ির প্রদর্শনী।শোনা যায় সে বছর বসাক বস্ত্র ফেরির টার্ণ্ ওভার সর্ব কালের রেকর্ড ভেঙে ছিল। যে বছর ভারত ক্রিকেটে world কাপ জিতল,আমরা আবাসনের সবাই বাজি ফাটিয়ে উৎসবে মাতলাম। "এক জাতি একপ্রাণ একতা।"

কয়েক বছর পর যে দিন ইন্দিরা গান্ধী নিহত হলেন, সারা দেশে শিখ নিধন শুরু হলো। সন্ধ্যার মুখে একদল লোক লাঠি সোটা নিয়ে এসে হাজির আমাদের পাসের ফ্ল্যাটে।যার জন্য এসেছিল আমাদের সম্মিলিত
প্রচেষ্টায় সে ততখনে গুরুদ্বারের নিরাপদ আশ্রয়ে পৌঁছে গেছে। সে ছিল আরেক একতা।
এর কিছু দিন আগে আমাদের দোতলার ঘরে উঠে এলেন আমাদের আরেক& জন সহকর্মী। বন্ধুবর আমার থেকে ব্য়সে বেশ ছোট।চারটাড একাউন্টেট ,বাবা জেলা জজ ছিলেন,আমাদের একাউন্টস বিভাগের সেজো সাহেব ।ওর ছেলের বয়স তখন বড়ো জোর চার। অচিরে আমার গিন্নি আর মেয়ের সে বন্ধু হয়ে গেল । সারা দিন প্রায় তার আধো আধো গলায় আমাদের মাতিয়ে রাখতো। "দড়ি ধরে মারো টান চলে যাবে বর্ধমান "। এ একটা নমুনা মাত্র ।
বন্ধুর রান্নার শখ ছিল ।দো তলা থেকে প্রায় নেমে আসতো অদ্ভুত অদ্ভুত রান্নার স্বাদ, ।
শিশু ভুট্টা ছানার পাঁচ মিসেলি,থোড় চিংড়ির পোলাও , ডুমুর ছোলার কোপ্তা আরো কতকি। তখন সুদীপার রান্না ঘর ছিলো না। "থোড় বড়ি খাড়া, খাড়া বড়ি থোড়ের"মেনুতে বৈচিত্র্য আনার কালচার তখনো সে ভাবে শুরু হয়নি।
ওদিকে খাটি সাহেব দের ফেলে যাওয়া ক্লাবে বার ছিল, কিন্তু তেমন ডিনার এ ব্যাবস্থা ছিল না। জিটি রোড বরাবর রেল গেট পেরিয়ে একটা পাঞ্জাবী ধাবা ছিল ।দরকার পড়লে দেশী সাহেব রা সেখানে ছুটতেন কয়েক জনের অনুরোধে ক্লাবের রান্নাঘরের দায়িত্ব নিলেন বন্ধুবর । ক্লাবের চেহারা বদলে গেল । ছেলে মেয়েরা তাদের সময় সীমার মধ্যে কাকুর রান্নাঘরে ভিড় জমালো, একক কত্তা গিন্নীর সংসারে প্রায় ই রাতে হাড়ি চড়া বন্ধ হোল।এমন কি আমার মতো ম্যাড় ম্যেড়েরা সন্ধ্যার পর ক্লাব মুখো হতাম,ফিরতাম পারসেল হাতে। স্বাদে গন্ধে ভরপুর সঙ্গে চার্টাড একাউনন্টের বিদগ্ধ স্পর্শ ।রান্নার সংগে বন্ধুবর সাহিত্যের শিল্পের মেল বন্ধন ঘটিয়ে ছিল ।রান্নাঘরের পশচাত পটে জ্বল জ্বল করতো নিরদ সি চৌধুরী র উক্তি "Eating well, ... ìs part of the culture of every civilised society বা সুকুমার রায়ের
"খাই খাই করো কেন, এসো বস আহারে খাওয়াবো আজব খাওয়া , ভোজ কয় যাহারে।

1988 নাগাদ আমরা অদুরে নিজে হাতে গড়া খাসা -ঘরে উঠে গেলাম । পিছনে ফেলে এলাম আমাদের অতিপ্রিয়-189।প্রায় চল্লিশ বছর আগের স্মৃতি। কিছুটা ধুসর। কয়েক দিন আগে সেই স্বপ্ন পুরিতে যেতে হয়েছিল । জঙ্গল ভরা ধূধূ প্রান্তর, কোথায ক্লাব কোথায Bower, কোথায় হসপিটাল (যেখানে আমার মেয়ে জন্মে ছিল) আর আমাদের ফ্ল্যাট 189.?

যে প্রতিষ্ঠান ও পরিবেশ আমাদের ও অন্য অনেক কে জীবনে প্রতিষ্ঠা দিয়েছে, করপোরেট জগতে দিকপাল
সৃষ্টি করেছে, যে প্রতিষ্ঠান শত মানুষের রুজি রোজগার দিয়েছে, যে পরিবেশ তাদের গড়ে ওঠার
স্বপ্ন দেখিয়েছে , কোন দানবের গদার আঘাতে তার সবটাই ধুলোতে মিশে গেছে!, সবই স্মৃতি হয়ে আছে। সঙ্গে নিয়ে গেছে এত মানুষের স্মৃতি সুধা।

189 কিন্ত শুধু স্মৃতি নয়, একটা দীর্ঘশ্বাস ।