Sahityika AdminA Personal Eulogy For My Teacher – Professor Sankar Sen
Aparup Sengupta, 1987, Electrical Engineering
It was exactly 8 am. There was pin drop silence in the class room. All seated for the first class of Professors Sankar Sen. The 1987 batch of Electrical Engineering knew his strict sense of discipline on attire and attendance. “Many of your parents were my students. I have never allowed late entry in the class room. After the 8th Bell of the Clock Tower, if you are not in my class, turn around and go back. I have never accepted requests of ‘may I come-in Sir’ for late comers.” He said with a mature and firm voice that set the stage for a bunch of free birds in BE College, who just learnt how to break all rules. His class was the exception.
His morning stroll, as he walked to the college building from the Professors quarters in our 100 acre campus, was indeed a spectacular stride of a military style deliberate walk, poised, firm and erect, exuberating an air of composure, and confidence; with a sense of purpose. I personally tried copying such a walk later in my life and quickly realized, that you can only achieve that physical grandeur if your attitude was as organized and orderly as him and a mind that’s always rooted in values and principles.
With wonder I had the privilege to learn the intimate performance of an outstanding teacher. The black board that was divided into 3 sections were immaculately used by him. He would erase the one on the left, only after he finished the one on the extreme right. We never had to request him, not to erase, as he gave ample time for copying his lectures into notes. When we copied his board work, he kept quiet. His beaming eyes went all over the room to notice that all pens are down. Once everybody copied their work on their notebooks. He would utter…” So, as you see…..” . Where are those thoughtful teachers, who knew, how difficult it was to copy the board work and yet keep listening to lectures simultaneously? Those pauses made by him, were sheer love and affection, as though he was seating as a student in the class room.
I personally went through a severe economic challenge in my life during my college days. I was doing private tuition for my pocket money, I had a swelled-up unpaid mess bill that I was hedging with the proceeds of my National Scholarship that was yet to come. Like a boon I got informally accepted as a commissioned Officer in Indian Navy. It was a phenomenal opportunity – all tuition fees and expenses paid, an annual grant of Rs 5000 per year for incidentals and I could join as an officer in the Navy with all perks of free ration, free home and a very handsome salary and an ability to directly protect our Nation.
One day, with much hesitation I followed his stride in the corridors of my department and told about my state of affairs and my new opportunity. He was indeed very pragmatic and inspiring. He said, “the Defence R&D was the best place to work in India, the finest of engineering works at global scale was getting carried out. You should consider”. However, I didn’t join because I was not guaranteed a R&D assignment and my mother sobbed and said, “I don’t want to lose another son”. A one-way ticket to a job, with no option to resign before 25 years (you are not allowed to resign in the armed forces) and a crying mother weighed more that the opportunity of emotional triumph and an immediate economic blanket. I declined. A few months later when I told him, he said, “Opportunities will come and go, make right choices. For now, focus on your studies”. I was scared at the beginning but admired how he allowed a 21 year old in taking decision about his life. I was expecting a reprimand. But he stood behind and pushed me to focus on academics instead of my ‘more than adequate’ involvement in extra-curricular life in the campus.
On a Sunday morning, I had a bunch of my classmates show up in my room. We were all swamped with work, assignments, project submissions including a serious assignment from Dr. Sen’s Class that was due next Tuesday. They requested me, as I was their elected Class Representative, and they made it a point to tell me that it is my responsibility to get a deferment on the due date from Dr Sen. They all knew it was impossible and a bit under the belt for me. It was like asking for the moon. I was generally weak in my stomach and I started showing symptoms of dysentery with the very thought of making such a request to Dr Sen. Not only will I be denied, I would be taking a lot of scolding for not being disciplined in our work as a cohort.
With trembling feet I took the courage of reaching his quarter. It was those typical British buildings with high ceilings, a ceiling fan rotating with a deep hum that went well with the personality of the Master in the house. I said, “Sir can I spend a few minutes, I need to get your guidance”. He looked me and said “Come inside.” It was probably his evening tea time. Mrs Sen poured some tea for me and him. I narrated how genuinely, the students felt that with so much of work coming in our way, a deferred date would help and if he would consider this request.
Then I was shivering, my hands were moist and my feet cold. He stared at me. His eyes were bright, beaming with radiance and I could see a slight smile on his lips. “Purbo banglayay tomar babar bari kothai chhilo?” I was taken a back with this question. In a mumbling tone I answered “Sir Dhaka, Bikrampur”.
With enthusiasm he raised his voice and asked “Kon Gram?”, I uttered softly “Bharakar Sir”.
He opened his spectacles, rubbed his face and head. Then sipped his tea and lit his cigarette. He said, “I will extend it by a week and no more”.
For a moment the man in front of me wasn’t an apparently inaccessible, tall professor. He was like a father. I came back and my folks cheered in the customary style “Jio guru”. I laughed, because I couldn’t somehow share that fatherly affection, that human being that I just met, the real Guru.
So, when I was crying on his departure, I felt this lump on my throat and heart. I decided I will express the man behind such a towering personality. Sometimes it is good to carry the badge of pride in your life. A proud designation we have all earned that’s beyond our degree certificate. A more legitimate certificate; that says “Professor Sankar Sen’s student”. That’s an instant recognition and today when I look back, it is these people who made us not just engineers. They made us men and women in life. How can I say a goodbye to him? My reverence, gratitude and love for Professor Sen will be BY me and for GOOD. I guess that’s the reverse order of the word goodbye.
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