Our Mejo Kaka

Our, ‘Mejo Kaka’ the second born to our grandmother, was a rare good person, a perfect gentleman. He did his graduation from Patna university and was a teacher with the T. K. Ghosh Academy. Dr. Rajendra Prasad, the first President of India had studied in this prestigious school.

Other than his school routine, he had specialized as a tuition master and was in great demand in the students’ circle. He took great pains in teaching from the basics and was very systematic. Returning from school, after some rest, his tuition duties would start; visiting different households, come rain, come storm, there would not be any lapse ever. He was sincere to the core.

Mejo Kaka was a guardian to our family, our father being on duty in North Bihar hospitals, occasionally visiting home.

He had great respect for our father, his older brother, as was the tradition those days. We had noted Mejo Kaka never looked him in the face while talking to him, he always looked downwards, towards his feet! Maybe father’s commanding personality and his own humility were factors!

Being an educator, his room was full of books. His books were his precious possessions. If a book was discovered to be misplaced, heavens would fall! His books held a special attraction for me personally, and I had benefited a lot, referring to the relevant books.

His social service during the last journeys of departed persons was exemplary. He would never fail a call. Those days there were no mobile phones and telephones were uncommon.

If someone shouted near our house, “Neru babu Bari achhen?” (Are you home Neru Babu) we knew at once somebody was no more and Mejo Kaka’s services were required. Father when present would advise not to take the risk of attending at night times. But he would slip out silently. He was a great help to society. Neru was his nick name, what a funny name it was to us children, we would laugh secretly.

His presence and service during the days of Durga puja, Kali puja to the Bengali society in the Puja premises at Patna was a must.

We would never forget the spectacle of ‘Rajen Daaktaar (doctor) and ‘Neru babu’ moving about busy as bees in the puja pandal, performing various duties day and night. They had to be dhoti clad and bare chested on duty.

I have seen his softer side too. He was a very kind and cool person. We all used to love and respect him tremendously. When he was in a good mood, he would sing ‘eso Ma Lokhkhi boso ma Lokhkhi’ in a nasal voice. I am talking of the 1950s .

Around this time, myself and Sejda (older brother) had our Upanayan or thread ceremony. Mejo Kaka was our ‘Guru’ from the family side. We had to follow strict Puja rituals under his guidance, staying secluded in a room, not meeting any one of the family, but our Guru. We ate boiled food and slept on the floor. Thrice a day we had to do the “Ahnik,” reciting mantras. After three days clad in only Gerua, (Ochre robes) and the ‘Poite’ which now had to be worn for the whole life, Mejo Kaka took us for a purifying bath to the Ganges, walking distance from our house, at 4.30 am.

With our shaven head covered with white rough cloth and the Dandi stick in hand, we were not allowed to see anyone till we completed our puja at the sacred river. While returning, a few dogs suddenly discovered three ghostly figures in the dim darkness of the fading night. With scarcely anyone in sight, the poor fellows did not know two pure ‘brahmacharis’ were walking this earth!!

After us, three more Upanayans were held like ours in pairs.

Tapan-Panu, Bhanu-Papu, Bachchu-Shankar. These were important events amongst others in the Mukherji household.

In all this our Mejo Kaka was always the central figure guiding us.

Once Dada was very angry with Morai our servant, who stayed with us and was virtually a member of the family.

He suddenly ordered Morai to leave the house one fine day, overstepping his authority by acting so harshly. The obedient servant, insulted and hurt, readied to leave with his meager belongings in a small bag. He stood on the doorstep crying.

I was also standing there weeping, my younger brothers wondering what was on as we all loved him very much.

At that crucial moment, Mejo Kaka came home, as if an angel from heaven. He asked what the commotion was about, why Morai was crying. When the poor fellow mumbled about Dada’s anger, Mejo Kaka ordered him to go inside, saying there was no need to go anywhere. His word was the last word always. He must have counselled the angry young man inside and once more peace prevailed.

After his retirement, he did not rest. He continued with his tuitions. It was his passion as well.

One evening, while returning home in his rickshaw, after his daily classes, he had collapsed. As I reflect on his life today, I feel he could easily have been an endearing character in one of Sarat Chandra Chatterjee’s great novels!