Old Doctor and Three Young Imposters.

Old Doctor and Three Young Imposters.
@Jayanta Majumdar, 1963 Metallurgical Engineering.

It’s not any story but remembering an experience of our good old college days,
and that with our Principal AC Roy, that I can never forget.

An elderly grey haired stout tall dhoti-panjabi clad doctor had a pretty young grand-daughter at home under his guardianship; girl’s parents were temporarily abroad where her father was posted. By the way, the grandfather was also the President of the state medical association.

So, something was bound to happen at the doctor’s home and it truly did happen. Doctor’s maid discovered a bunch of love letters hidden below her pillow, and thereafter all hell broke loose in Docs house. Upon interrogation, the cornered girl confessed that she was in touch with a v-e-r-y s-w-e-e-t lovely handsome brilliant well behaved …… (and many more adjectives) BE College boy; that they meet every Sunday when the boy comes home from hostel at weekends; that they also chat for hours after hours over telephone every evening while her grandfather is away at his clinic. Then somehow the doctor manages to extract the phone number of the lover boy from this poor girl. The lover boy was our Anjan, the youngest boy in our class; shy and extremely intelligent.

Now, coming to the telephonic facility at BE College campus in those days (1958-1963) it was another interesting story. With about 1500 students in 20 hostels, we had a students’ telephone corner at our union office. An old gentleman (His age was a mystery, we used to say “pre-historic man”, some says 70+, some says 80+, but anyway he was the Telephone-dadu for all the students. From 4pm to 10 pm, he was at our communication facility services with the outside world. Callers were either anxious and angry guardians at the silence of their wayward wards, or love-struck young girls like the present one. Dadu will note the message, and taking few messages, may be after 2 hours, would pedal his cycle to the hostel of the wanted boys and from Dadu’s face you could make out whether the waiting caller was an angry parent or an anxious girlfriend.

So, our angry doctor asked the poor girl call the boy over the same telephone, and himself waits to pounce upon the rascal. Our Telephone-dadu reaches the hostel, appears with a meaningful smile and the lover boy runs hurriedly from the hostel, for making a return call. But this evening he returns very quickly, looking like a beaten puppy with a tail between the legs, and huddles into the corner of our hostel veranda with his closest buddy Samir. To introduce Samir, he was the general advisor to our whole batch on all the non-academic nonsense pleasures, adventures and issues, and never spoilt his time on matters related to academics.

Now, at the other end of the veranda, we could notice from his body language that Anjan was somehow extremely exhausted, demoralized, disappointed. We, the gang of myself, Mihir and Somdeb were curious, what’s wrong with him? Soon the news broke out, that the old man was waiting for Anjan’s call, in contrary to Anjan’s expectation that the girl would be on the other side. Anjan was asked by an icy cold voice to meet him the next evening at his chamber in Kolkata without fail, Or else —! . Else what? Will he report to Police? Or report to our Principal who was more dangerous than the police? Our lover boy was in panics and decided to stay away from the furious grandfather.

We three fellows were upset. If Anjan does not meet the grandfather out of fear, the girl would consider and brand all the BE College boys as cowards, and we the fearless “non-cowards” would never allow this to happen. No, it was not acceptable to us. So, we take a momentous decision- we all three will be present in his chamber without telling Anjan. There was no planning or strategy of how do we handle the matter once we confront the angry doctor, but we took the oath that our college flag must fly high.

The following day, after our classes were over by 4pm, we three quietly left for the Harrison Road chamber without telling a single word to any of our other friends, Anjan included. Mihir has put on a borrowed neck tie and looking smart). In short, the die is cast. The chamber was already crowded with patients. So, we had to wait on the pavement.

Now, the doctor arrives on a chauffeur-driven black Morris car and disappears inside; at a glance we found him to be a formidable old man. We hesitate for a moment- whether we should go back to our hostel and forget the matter? Or should we enter the lion’s den? However, our destiny shoves us from behind. We went inside the waiting hall and smartly told the peon – “Tell your master that we are here from BE College”. The formidable figure immediately emerges out of his cabin, had an incredulous look at us and commands us to follow him in. So, myself with Mihir, and Somdeb finally entered the lion’s den and face the lion.

He was initially silent. Then asked us to sit down. Then suddenly fires the bullet, “Who is Anjan Dutta?” Before we could explain the purpose of our visit, Mihir raised his hand.
Oh my god! Is he mad! That was not in our script!
When the interrogation starts and Mihir’s prompt replies were in the following pattern:
“I am Anjan Dutta, my father’s name is Niranjan Dutta, we stay at Ballygunge. No, I am not the first boy, he stands first (he points at me), and he stands second (pointing at Somdeb), and I generally stand third (making a coy smile). After graduation I want to go abroad for higher studies but after that I will surly return to India and serve my country.” Mihir tells all these to the doctor, without any interruption.

Here to add, – Mihir however kept his promise made to this old man – for himself as well for the real Anjan. While Mihir did his PhD from UK and Anjan did his D. Sc. from MIT.

The old man was somehow convinced and pleased. He confesses that his pretty grand daughter was his big responsibility and makes “Anjan” promise that he will stop frequently calling the girl on telephone but in lieu of, “Anjan” should visit doctor’s home and meet the girl once a month, on any Sunday.

We return to college by our 55 no bus, in total silence and thinking what next? We are in a shit now- Anjan specially and also we, all the three stupid musketeers. Within a couple of hours hell breaks loose in doctor’s house but we were blissfully unaware. The doctor returned home mighty pleased and told the story to his adorable grand daughter. He also described the features of her lover boy “Anjan”. Now the girl was in sheer panic. His grandfather’s description of Anjan does not at all match her real hero Anjan. So, she had to tell her beaming grandfather that “Anjan” whom he met must be highly frustrated and so might have sent a decoy to threaten him. The girl was worried, first she probably lost to Anjan forever, and in addition Anjan and we three must wait for the fury of the tricked doctor. God bless us!

The BE College authorities had a very efficient intelligence network unofficially headed by our HOD. It was impossible to hide any secret from reaching his ears. Very next week, while taking our Chemistry class he instructs the three of us plus Anjan to report at the Principal’s office at 4pm. So, we reached the “court of justice” and found our HOD sitting next to the big boss. Our Principal never beat the bush; he said he knows the whole story and we must confess and come out clean. Anjan sits separately and looks sullen, and I begin the story. When my story was over, he suddenly asked the dreaded question, “What made you three scoundrels to cheat the old doctor?”
We were prepared with our only defense. I politely said, “Sir, he is an old man, and he wanted a BE College student to come over and meet him. So, it would have been cowardice not to go and meet him. We had to prove that we have courage in challenging situations”.
Our HOD looked at the ceiling, while the Principal gave me a piercing look, but mighty pleased that even his second-year students had the courage and could deal with a seasoned old doctor. (those were the days of intense silent rivalries between the two professions).

Now our Principal softly speaks, as if to himself: “The old doctor telephoned me and urged me to take action against you four boys. I assured him that I would take care of the boys, but he should also take care of his ward. I also told him that with a young and pretty grand-daughter at home, the boys will naturally hang around his home and it is his own problem”.

Then our Principal Prof. AC Roy addressed Anjan in his soft clear voice: “What you do on Sundays sitting at your home is not my business boy; but she is a minor I am told. You step out of your limit, and it would be a police case and then the College will also kick you out.”
We all were dismissed. We returned to the same hostel, but not in the group of four. Anjan alone, and we three together, feeling so guilty to him.

Mihir and Anjan made peace again, then became very close buddies for next two years of our college stay. It is now 60 years since this episode and still the two are great friends in America. But such was the chemistry of our BE College.

In their respective profession, Mihir retired as a missile expert; Anjan did some original work on fiber optics and holds a number of patents too. Here in India, Somdeb became an armament production honcho now retired, and I am the story-teller.

8th September 2020.
Edited 10th November 2022.

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