The Colonel - Repeat Telecast

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One morning in 1980 I was sitting in my Room alone after taking a Lecture Class and then a cup of tea in the canteen.

The door opened without a knock and Bidhan Mahanty (of the Ukridge fame), three good years senior to me, barged in and said: 

"GP! I envy you terribly terribly"

Apparently he was sitting in one of the cubicles in the Central Library, when the three lateral entry girls, fondly nicknamed 'Gaechho, Maechho, Paechho' by Mrs DB, entered the neighboring cubicle and were gushing about the Lecture Class they just attended.

I then gave Bidhan the Paper I was reading and told him that his envy was nothing compared to mine. He got up, said: "Hmmm!", took the Paper with him and went away.



In yesterday's post I wrote:

"On the other hand, the Second Year Phy Lab then was the most well-organized, courtesy our Colonel (subject of tomorrows blog)" 

The Colonel's good name was S K Mitra, whom we called: "Mithir-da".

Mithir-da was a tall, lean, lissome figure with a square jaw and a sweet smile. He was always dressed in a white dhuti, pleated both in the front and the back, which gave him the appearance of a young one wearing a Bermuda, though he was in his early fifties then. And a jibba with side pockets hanging heavy with sundry  bunches of keys. 

He was a fixture in the Second Year B Tech Lab. Although he was just a Lab Assistant, HoDs trusted him and made him the overall TA of the Second Year Lab. He couldn't be promoted because perhaps he never completed his Matric. And he never became a member of the three fairly vocal Employees Unions owing surreptitious allegiance to the dominant political parties of Bengal. One never saw him in the Diro's Lobby shouting slogans or doing dharnas.

Each and every instrument in the Lab was like his child. He knew their loose screws and hard nuts and the tantrums they tended to throw.

He would be there in his Lab at least half an hour before class started and dust the tables (not his job), switch on the power, pull out the charged batteries, and in short getting the Lab tip-top for the students to arrive; which they did in droves gabbing, shouting, quarreling, and jostling. Then one could hear his booming voice in Binglish: 

"Silence Please! Kotho bar bolthey hobey...tomar buddhi, shuddhi nai? I will not TOLERATE!"

Thus doing the work of the teachers...

And the students would fall silent and make a line to collect their apparatus and go to their tables.

And the din would start again. He would then shout:

 "Roll Call Please!"

...again not his job. And he would rush through the attendance since he knew all the names and their respective faces. After which he would turn to the teachers with a triumphant smile.

And within half an hour the students would start behaving like free electrons drifting from table to table seeking help from their classmates who had already done their experiments. But he would have none of it and would start barking: 

"Go to your Tables Pleaaaase! Badmaishi koro naa!"

The teachers who were mostly Junior Research Scholars would stand in awe of the Colonel. 

By and by an hour and a half would pass and all the teachers would get together and take their time-out to the canteen, asking Colonel to please look after the Lab and say: 

"Just Now" 

if the HoD happens to visit on his rare inspection. Colonel would tell them: 

"No problem...no problem"

And then the Colonel is a different man, and the students knew it. One by one the students would approach him and say: 

"Dada, balance point ashchey na!" or 

"Newtons's rings hochhey na!"...

He would quickly visit all tables one by one, adjust the traveling microscope and focus it, pull out 100 ohms from the small r in the cross arm of the Anderson Bridge and so on quietly and surreptitiously. 

By the time the teachers were back from the canteen, the entire class would be 'taking' readings and 'submitting' one by one. And the Colonel would be shouting orders once again in clipped tongues.

Students used to be bowled over by the kindheartedness of their Colonel which became a byword in their Halls. He was indeed kind to one and all...but it was also matter of enlightened self-interest...Mithir-da would take at least half and hour after the class disperses to clear the mess the students made and then rush to his home on his ancient pushbike, have his frugal lunch, and a short power nap before the drill starts again in the afternoon...so he wouldn't want students lingering till the last minute...

Everyone was happy...

The piece of Paper I handed to Bidhan was the latest issue of Alankar, the renowned magazine of the Technology Students Gymkhana, a thing so well edited and written by students that I never missed reading an Issue cover to cover.

And the title of the back page was: 

"Interview with Colonel"

Apparently four students with their Grundig 7-inch spool tape recorder, push-up mike, 35 mm camera, and the default SNite to do the honors visited Colonel's mean Qrs and caught him by surprise and took his Interview, which was edited and published with love and affection.

I guess there was never anything like that before nor after the Colonel's Interview...leave alone the Deans', Dons', and Diro's Interviews.

The next morning I met Mithir-da to congratulate him and he dismissed the whole affair: 

"Eh chhokrather kichhoo kaam taam nai, porashana koreynna, shudhu time waste koreyn..."

But the breast beneath his jibba was sure swelling up with pride...

...Posted by Ishani


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