A Nondescript Face

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"That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain—
At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark"

Hamlet Act 1, scene 5, 105–109

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Not only in Denmark, but there was a minor edition of it in IIT KGP too.

Early 1965 I attended the first Interview of my life for the exalted post of an Associate Lecturer at IIT KGP. There were a dozen of us external candidates, of whom two were taken in by HNB, our HoD then.

The other was 'V', an upcountry youth. He was the precise opposite of me every way. Tall, lean, handsome to a fault with a face and a smile that won him friends (of both sexes) wherever he went. A Dev Anand in his youth.

Since we joined the same time, we were rather thrown together; the same Office shared by us (the present H N Bose Seminar Room), the same Hall, and the same Courses for different Sections (there was no semester system then).

He was so well-dressed (a typical upcountry trait), well-shaven, suited and booted, that anyone who looked at him would think he came from a well-to-do family. Very soon I knew that IIT KGP was a 'night-halt' for him, for, his eyes were firmly focused towards California, where he went after a couple of years.

But, while at KGP, he used to tag me along wherever he went, particularly to Gole Bazaar. He had rather expensive tastes like buying a camera, a cassette recorder, branded suit cases and several accessories of male fashion design. Gole Bazaar at that time rather 'belonged' to Bhandaris, Pujaris, Punwanis, Thackers et al, to whom a chaste Heartland-Hindi sentence was an open sesame. And it was child's play for our V to charm them.

In 'our' first spells of buying in Gole Bazaar, he used to take out his expensive leather wallet and dole out crisp hundred rupee notes hither an thither and asking them to sort of keep the change. I was the mute spectator quark trailing him in awe.

But soon, I realized that he was having 'accounts (khatas)' in all the major shops.

After he flew to his California, I couldn't visit Gole Bazaar for almost six months; for, wherever I walked, shopkeepers would rush out and catch me in the street and ask me what happened to 'V', who rather performed a neat vanishing trick. I came to know that his 'unpaid outstanding bills' in various shops ran into thousands.

I, on the other hand, was as poor as a church mouse and had a nondescript face. And was too shy to talk to anyone other than students and close friends. Added to that I was boyish, without a mustache or a beard. When I used to enter the Dining Hall, everyone mistook me for the latest addition to the Hall-Boys from Turipara.

And this boyish look lasted till I was 43. RKN wrote a piece on "Looking One's Age", I recall. Once I was the Chief Invigilator in Raman Auditorium. I reached half an hour early, signed all answer scripts, arranged all question papers and got everything ready, as the other invigilators tagged along one by one. After starting the Exam, I noticed that Indiradi didn't turn up (Everyone knew her). I handed over 'charge' to my next senior and left for a few minutes, since I had to 'check' my own Question Paper in another Hall.

By the time I returned, Indiradi was occupying my 'Chair', while the other invigilators were busy taking attendance, distributing question papers to late-comers and such tasks. As I entered the Exam Hall and was walking over towards her, she started shouting at me for coming so late and having the gumption of walking in nonchalantly; and asked me brusquely to go take my seat and wait for the answer script and the question paper. I was rather enjoying this familiar scene, till her cousin who was also a co-invigilator and my student a decade back, ran to her and whispered; "Didi, aapni ki korchen, ini Professor Shastry!" . Students in the front bench were smiling, and Didi was so apologetic that I had to go to the canteen for tea at once.

As I aged, I began to look more and more 'grumpy' to quote Indra's words, till I entered the Class Room, where all such notions were at once dispelled, and students rather felt friendly to me.

To this day, I enjoy my nondescript face. No one who looks at it would give a second look unless they happen to have something to get from me. This is a boon in Hyderabad. I enjoy the status of an undisturbed spectator, so necessary for blogging.

My son was feeling rather sorry to have such a grumpy gray-haired father in his upcoming Wedding Ceremony a few years ago. He dragged me to the nearest Men's Beauty Saloon and had my hair dyed jet-black and face given an expensive lift.

He was rather sorrier in the Function, since everyone took me to be his younger brother {;-}.

GUL!!!

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