“Wanted: A groom for a Kayastha girl, beautiful, fair complexioned, B.A. student, age 20. Bharadwaj gotra preferred. P.O. Box 701.”
“Wanted: A suitable Shandilya groom for a beautiful, slim, five-foot-tall, homely, I.A. passed bride. Suitable dowry will be given. P.O. Box 27301.”
“Oh my God! Dowry will be given! Defying the Dowry Act! They are trying to evade the law in every way, so what’s the harm if it’s done this way? In these difficult times, a few years of married life will be blissful. Of course, we are not so lucky. We are far behind in this line! First preference to the engineers. Then doctors, chartered accountants, military officers, and so on. It feels strange even to think about these things.”
Reading the Sunday newspaper has become a special routine for Sukanta. But the news of the conflict between the leftists and the rightists is secondary to him! The primary thing is the job vacancy advertisements. So Sukanta’s routine starts with looking at the job vacancy advertisements. After looking at everything, when there is nothing much left, Sukanta’s eyes unknowingly get fixed on the market of Bharadwaj, Shandilya, and Sadgop brides and grooms. Seeing the demand and qualities of the brides and grooms, in most cases, Sukanta expresses his own quirky opinion and declares the end of his newspaper reading. He says, “Oh my God! Dowry will be given…. In these matters, first preference to the engineers, etc., etc.”
Sometimes there are exceptions to the rule. But if you think deeply, you have to say that it is also a rule. Anyway, one day there was an exception to Sukanta’s rule as well. His Sunday newspaper reading remained unfinished. But he got what he had been wanting with all his heart for so long. The managing committee of Bilaspur Swarnaprabha College wants an M.A. in Economics. Sukanta thought that if he applied, he would surely get the job. Then he thought further - “What kind of place is it? The environment? What if it’s completely rural? What if I can’t adjust myself? - No matter how rural or jungly it is, I will go. I have to do something.”
“I will go.” Sukanta’s final decision remained firm. And so it happened in reality. The managing committee of Swarnaprabha College accepted his application and sent him an appointment letter. Sukanta is on his way. With new hope and enthusiasm. Sometimes he is also afraid of how he will manage at first. Sukanta is thinking - “Are the boys of today more unruly than before? In our time too, students used to be mischievous. But the students of today seem to have gone a few steps ahead in unruliness, keeping pace with the world. No, no - this is my misconception, a sign of sheer selfishness. The idea that everything we had was good is not right.” He is just sitting and thinking about all this. He came to his senses when the train entered the platform of Bilaspur station with a whistle.
After getting off the train, he took a rickshaw and headed for Swarnaprabha College. As he went, Sukanta cast his eyes as far as he could on both sides. The place is not bad. The wind of progress seems to be blowing strongly. There is a touch of modernity in everything - hotels, restaurants, shops. Sukanta reached the college premises, paid the rickshaw puller, and walked towards the college. Boys and girls of various kinds are passing by him. The waves of different people’s conversations are ringing in his ears.
“No, I’m not attending the 1:45 pm class today.” “I see, you’re going to ‘Dil Hi To Hai’. Take Red Light with you.” “What Red Light? What is Red Light?” Sukanta tried to understand in his mind. But he didn’t understand anything. This is the age of technicians. Conversations are also becoming technical. Thinking about these things, he walked on. He entered the professors’ common room at the college, showed his appointment letter and identity card, and introduced himself to everyone.
Bilaspur Swarnaprabha College had no hostel. Neither for the students nor for the professors. The professors who came from outside lived in a separate mess. So Sukanta also has to live in the mess with the other professors. After college, Sukanta started going to the mess with the other professors. After leaving the college, he walked straight down the road for some distance. Then he is going down the lane on the left. As he walked, Sukanta saw a sign board hanging in front of the veranda of a two-story house. It was written “Pramila Barjita Nibas” (Pramila Forbidden Residence). Sukanta became curious! But he smiled to himself. He passed the Pramila Barjita Nibas and entered their mess. He entered his designated room and, for the sake of rest, bid farewell to everyone for the time being. That night, after dinner, a colleague of Sukanta’s age came and struck up a good conversation with him. Although he was of the same age, he looked as if he was getting old prematurely. At the very beginning, the poor fellow is telling Sukanta - “My given name is Pradyut Chatterjee, and I am known to the students as Pishemoshai (uncle-in-law).”
“Pishemoshai? Why?” Sukanta asks. “They know that. They didn’t give me the name after discussing it with me. Of course, they have never addressed me as Pishemoshai directly. But even if they say it in the student circle behind my back, it’s an open secret in our professor circle.”
Sukanta was a little taken aback. He tried to think of something in his mind. But Pradyut interrupted his thoughts and started speaking again - “I am Pishemoshai. The old black gentleman in room number one, that is, Shibendra Lal Chakraborty, the professor of Bengali, is Shiyal Pandit (Jackal Scholar). Bishwanath Batabyal, the professor of philosophy in room number five, is Broken-hearted! And our quiet and gentle Nirmal Guha is recognized as Mrs. Guha in the student circle. I haven’t been able to understand exactly what is in the background of the names they have given. If analyzed, perhaps something can be guessed. Well, tell me, sir, how long can one tolerate this indirect taunt of the students?”
Sukanta was listening to everything with rapt attention. Now he doesn’t know what to answer. He stared at Pradyut’s face like a complete fool.
Getting no answer, Pradyut started speaking again,… “You have come, sir, just watch for a few days. Hey, sir, you can’t walk on the road with your head held high. When you are walking on the road, you will see a few students coming towards you from the opposite direction, smoking cigarettes, almost in front of you. Then it will strike your mind like an electric shock, ‘Friend, you have to protect your own honor.’ To protect your honor, you will be forced to march forward with your head down, without looking right or left.” Pradyut was getting tired as he spoke. How much more can one say to a new colleague in one day? So, to end the topic, he said - “You will realize it yourself after a few days. I have been babbling nonsense with you for a long time. Well, I’m leaving.”
Sukanta was then in a state of “let me go, mother, let me cry and be saved.” So, without saying anything, he concentrated on worshiping the goddess of sleep. Today, Sukanta has to take a class. He has been thinking since morning how to take it! How to go to the class. How to control the class. Whether to discuss current topics or to say something about the basics of economics. He couldn’t think of anything quickly. Finally, he decided to discuss current topics. First, the first-year class starts at 10:45 am, then the third-year class at 2:25 pm. As soon as the signal for the class to start was given, Sukanta entered the first-year class with the register. He started calling the roll slowly. While marking the attendance of the boys, Sukanta observed the class. He heard the gentle murmur and whispers of the students in the back row. After finishing the roll call, Sukanta introduced himself. In which year he passed from which university. Then he said something about the possible reaction on the economic condition of India due to the huge influx of refugees from present-day Ceylon, Zanzibar, Burma, and Pakistan. When the signal for the end of the period was given, he left the discussion unfinished and came out. In the midst of the noise outside, Sukanta was thinking whether he had said everything he wanted to say. He thought to himself that if he had said it that way instead of this way, it would have been better… Thinking like this, Sukanta came to the professors’ common room and occupied a chair. Sukanta is still thinking while sitting in the chair. Now it is not a specific thought. A thought starts with one thing. This thought branches out and becomes complex. Finally, it reaches a stage where Sukanta himself does not understand what he is thinking about. Where is the source of the thought? The time seemed to pass very quickly in the midst of weaving this web of thoughts. Sukanta rushed to take the third-year class at 2:15 pm. Now his mental strength is greater than before. The class seemed good to Sukanta. The students asked Sukanta questions in detail. Sukanta answered. At the end of the period, Sukanta came out of the class. The sound of students banging on their desks and shouting came from the next room. Amidst the sound of banging on desks and tables, Sukanta heard the cry of a strange animal. “Hukka hua hua!” Sukanta didn’t quite understand what the students… [truncated]
On the way back to the mess after college, Sukanta’s mind was in a turmoil with the new experience he had gained at the college. He didn’t even realize when he had crossed the straight main road. He started walking a little faster after entering the lane. A few young boys are standing on the veranda of Pramila Barjita Nibas. They seemed to be saying something among themselves, looking at Sukanta. Sukanta understood something from their behavior. He passed the Nibas and entered his designated room in his mess.
Today, Pradyut came a little early. Then the two of them started talking. Today, Sukanta is not just a silent listener. He is also speaking in between. When their conversation was in full swing, a middle-aged boy interrupted them. Sukanta came to know that the boy was one of the residents of Pramila Barjita Nibas. All those who live in Pramila Barjita Nibas are employed. Most of them are typists and clerks. The boy is a clerk in a private company. Sukanta understood that the boy had a good rapport with Pradyut. The boy laughs heartily whenever he finds something funny! The boy first shed some light on the sports world of the season. From this, the conversation went on to domestic politics and world politics, and finally, Pradyut, relying on his experience as a professor, turned the conversation to the hopes, aspirations, and future of professors like him. He himself continues to say that they have no honor, no respect, no position in society. Pradyut gets excited as he speaks. Sukanta saw that the boy was laughing out loud at Pradyut’s manner of speaking and words. Pradyut cast a slightly distorted look at the boy. The boy stopped laughing and started speaking - “Look, Pradyut-da, this is the age of democracy. So you should start a movement to protect your honor in a democratic way. You can hold a procession to increase your salary, but you can’t start a movement to protect your honor? You should form a committee. ‘Save Professors’ Prestige Committee.’ That is, the Professor Honor Protection Committee. Spread this movement like an epidemic all over the country. You will see, you will be checkmated. Then the boys will no longer be able to call a indirectly failed lover professor ‘Broken-hearted.’ When you go out on the road, you won’t have to think ‘protect your own honor’ and march quickly with your head down.”
After saying this much, the boy started laughing heartily again. Sukanta listened to the boy’s words attentively. But he did not laugh heartily. He thought the boy was really witty. He also praised the boy in his mind for his logic. The boy had stopped laughing by then and, saying goodbye to Sukanta, said - “Dada, please forgive this talkative person. I really talk too much.” Saying this, the boy left. Sukanta and Pradyut also left for dinner.
Sukanta goes to college and comes back. Most of his leisure time, Sukanta thinks about Pradyut’s words. Of course, he also remembers the boy’s words. Whenever he remembers the boy’s words, a flash of laughter flashes in Sukanta’s mind. He also wonders what name the students have given him. Let them give as many as they want. Krishna has one hundred and eight names. Thanks to the students, they have a few names. Sukanta’s days pass thinking about all these things.
Finally, the summer vacation came to the college. The college was also closed. Sukanta is ready to go home. He set a day and left. He passed the Pramila Barjita Nibas. He looked back at the veranda of the second floor. No, - Sukanta could not see the boy. Even after teaching for a few months, Sukanta could not decide whether he would come here again or not. While leaving, Sukanta’s mind was eager to see that strange boy. He looked back at the veranda again. No, - the boy is not there. Probably at work. Sukanta is moving forward. He remembered Pradyut. Thinking of Pradyut, a wave seemed to rise in his mind. Waves are hitting waves. Broken-hearted, Shiyal Pandit, Save Professors’ Prestige Committee - all these words seem to be swirling in the waves. Sukanta is moving forward. Until the moment the train leaves the station, Sukanta is thinking, maybe after going home, he will again look at the job vacancy advertisements in the Sunday newspaper, and when he finds nothing, his eyes will unknowingly stop at - “Wanted: A groom for a Kayastha girl………..”
Sachitra Bharat, 25th July 1964