El Nino

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I always wanted to write a dialogue-based short story with the following plot:

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1970: A reed-thin 27-year-old chain-smoking bachelor rotting as an Associate Lecturer for the past 5 years in the Physics Dept of IIT KGP is commanded by his wacky newly-acquired Ph D Guide to go travel to Howrah, take the Bus Number 6, spend an hour to reach IACS, take permission from its Librarian, spend a couple of hours copying in long hand a 5-page article in Russian in Czech J Phys by Muzikar and Pafamov on Vavilov-Cherenkov Radiation (Cherenkov was perhaps not Communist enough to deserve the Nobel, so the Vaviov prefix), return to KGP by evening, get the article translated into English, and pass it on to him the next day.

That is a mouthful, no? But so was that tyrant, SDM. Fortunately, by then, My Fair Russian Lady taught me just enough Russian to copy in long hand quickly and correctly.

The young chap boards the newly-commissioned Steel Express, finds all seats occupied, one of them by a fat chap with a fancy hand bag beside him taking up two seats. He asks the other (coming from Tatanagar) to make some space for him. And thereafter there is a running fight between the two for two hours (less one minute). The fat chap turns out to be an ex-KGPian ME Graduate employed in TISCO. They fight about the relative merits of ME vs Theoretical Physics, Private vs Public Sectors, Bengali vs Telugu, Patel Hall vs B C Roy Hall, Religion, Politics, Marriage and Morals.

Then comes Ramrajatola, and by chance they discover that both of them hold Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge in the highest esteem, exchange addresses just before Howrah Station and become life-long pen-friends.

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Now I know I don't have the gift to write dialogue-based short stories, so I give up.

But something bordering on this did happen in my personal life:

The only MA (English) degree-holder employed as an English Lecturer in our family, my sister, gets married to a budding Doctor busy trying to establish himself as a young Private Practitioner. He has no time at all, apparently, for anything else but his extremely busy and tense professional life.

As a wedding gift I presented a 200-page newly acquired novella which fascinated me to my 'English' sister.

And then I discovered that my sister got too busy adjusting to her new home, but my newly-acquired brother-in-law Doctor devoured it in 2 nights and thanked me for the book. Apparently, the way he relaxes after a busy day was to curl up with a good English novel before dropping to sleep.

That was the start of an 'unnatural' friendship between 'natural' adversaries (the salah and the raja).

That is 33 years ago.

The other day, my 'raja' brother-in-law, elevated to the august 'elected' post of President IMA (Tamilnadu) a year ago wrote a gracious Foreword to my latest offering (see the blogpost: 'Foreword' of Saturday, July 31st).

I am re-reading that 33-year-old book now. It is titled: "The House that Nino Built". Its Italian author's name sounds quite Indian: 'Giovanni Guareschi'. I first happened to read his 'The Little World of Don Camillo' followed by 'Don Camillo and the Devil'; and then this chatty 30-Chapter Personal Essay-filled
'House that Nino Built'.

That sort of gels: The other day, I gifted my booklet to a young e-friend of mine sitting in Israel who never saw me (except through the eyes of our mutual friend Aniket). And I happened to write the following senti-inscription:

"For the Personal Essay that Bridges the Unknown and the Unseen".

Nino's book has this piece of dialogue:

Margherita (Nino's wife):

"Children shouldn't ever read what their fathers have written. If it were a textbook of chemistry, physics or some other science, that would be different. But fiction is to be ruled out, absolutely. Above all fiction like yours, because nobody can be sure when you're serious and when you are joking, when you are sticking to the truth and when you have made up the whole story. There's no telling how he may interpret it.'

gps: My son never reads my gul-blogs (even when I tell him he figures in it)!!!!


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