MY CHILDHOOD

On 5 August 1934 I was born in a city called Siuri which is near the border of West Bengal and Bihar States on the eastern part of India It was a thunderous night. Because of this treacherous weather my relatives predicted that I would be a brave and strong man when I grow up. Now I can tell that they were all wrong. I grew up as a shy and a timid person.

In 1938 my father bought a piece of land in south Calcutta to build a house. This land is hardly a kilo metre from the famous Dhakuria Lake. The lake itself is about 1 and ½ Kilo meter long and at some places it is about 500 metre wide. It has got beautiful surroundings. At present there are 4 Rowing clubs. (Pictures 1 and 2 are of Dhakuria Lake). On both sides of this lake there was vast land which is now unrecognisable with buildings and streets that have slowly been built over the years.

The building that was our house was completed in 1939. It is a 3 storied building and on each floor my father built 6 bedrooms, two kitchens, two bathrooms and three balconies with a big hall in the centre. We were all eager to start our new life there and were looking forward to the future.

But then in 1939 World War II started.

I was then only 5 years old and did not have any idea about war. India was a British Colony at that time. I saw thousands of troops come to Calcutta and occupying houses and vacant lands. Hundreds of war tanks and trucks loaded with Anti Aircraft Guns arrived in Calcutta.

Dhakuria lake with its surroundings were occupied by the British and American soldiers who brought with them all sorts of war equipment. It became a major Army Base in the Eastern Region with its headquarters in Fort Williams which is about 8 km north east of the lake. The boundary of this Army Base was hardly 500 meters away from our house.

Calcutta was not safe to live in anymore. The Japanese army invaded from the east, conquered Burma and came to the door steps of India. In 1940, my father was transferred to Dacca and then to Moymonsing in East Bengal. (There was no East or West Bengal at that time. It was a unified Bengal. In 1947 when India became Independent, Bengal was divided into West Bengal and East Bengal).

In 1942 the Quit India Movement started. It was a fight for India's Independence. It originated in Bengal and spread all over India. Indians were fighting the British who occupied India for over 200 years. Many British and Indians were killed during this Quit India Movement. Mahatma Gandhi of course started the Non-violence movement much earlier but took momentum after 1942.

We lived in Moymonsing for three years. My schooling started there. When I was in Year 3 in school, my father was transferred back to Calcutta. It was 1943. I was then only 9 years old. I lost one year since I had to redo my Year 3 in school.

In 1943, my father became Chief Engineer of PWD (Public Works Dept.). He was the first Indian Chief Engineer in Bengal. Earlier this position was always held by British personnel and that had made my father's position very venerable. All those people who were in the Quit India movement thought my father was a supporter of the British Raj. This put my father's life at high risk and he opted for volunteer retirement.

The British in the meantime were very much anxious because of the war. The Japanese Army had come almost to the boundaries on the eastern side of India. The British arranged a meeting with leaders of the Quit India Movement including Mahatma Gandhi and assured them that if they withdrew the Freedom Movement and joined the British to fight against the Japanese Army then after the war India would be granted its Independence. After this meeting the "Quit India Movement" was called off and India started preparing for its Independence by joining hands with the British against the Japanese.

The World War II was over in 1945 and India got its Independence on 15th of August 1947. But the independence of India did not come on a golden platter.

The struggle for independence had started sometime in 19th century, around the year 1850. In the beginning many people who fought for the independence were killed. Those who were a part of the struggle for independence were arrested and many of them were sentenced to death and some were jailed in the Andaman Islands. A Bastille like jail was constructed on Port Blair in the Andamans to house hundreds of such freedom fighters and convicts who were never set free and were systematically hanged to death. Only very few freedom fighters escaped the death sentence.

Those freedom fighters and the convicts who were sent to Cellular Jail in Port Blair, Andaman, were known as prisoners sentenced to "Kala Pani". The term `Kala Pani' became synonymous with the transportation to the penal settlements beyond the sea. According to some expression "Kala Pani" has been used with reference to the Sanskrit word `Kal' which means `Time of Death'. The term `Kala Pani', therefore, meant "Water of Death" or "A Place of Death" from where no one could return. For those who were sent to Andaman, Kala Pani virtually meant cruel and inhuman treatment for the rest of their life. It was considered worse than the Death Penalty.

After the war there was tremendous shortage of food. The poorest of the poor started dying of starvation. It happened not just in Bengal but all over India. I have seen dead bodies lying on the footpath. The ravages of the war was too painful for me to forget as it happened during a very tender age.

Then came the communal riot, Hindus versus Muslims that started in 1946. It all started because Mr. Jinna wanted to be the first Prime Minister of India, and Mr Nehru vehemently opposed saying that India's majority population was Hindu and therefore he should be the first Prime Minister of India. In response Mr. Jinna then declared to have a separate state for Muslims. Thus started a communal riot. Thousands of Hindus and Muslims were killed by each other. Mahatma Gandhi went to Noakhali (a city in East Bengal) and started a hunger strike and pledged that he would continue fasting until the riot was stopped. But both the parties were adamant and asked Mr. Gandhi whether the idea of dividing India was acceptable to him because that was the only way to stop the riot. To avoid the killings of Hindus and Muslims Mr. Gandhi ultimately and reluctantly agreed to the proposal. So ultimately India was divided in August 14, 1945 and Pakistan was born.

During the riot, one day, I was on the 3rd floor balcony of our house when I saw a Muslim man beaten to death by a gang of Hindus. He was beaten on the head mercilessly by hockey sticks. He was just a hawker selling fruits. I did not really understand what was achieved by killing an innocent poor man. It was so deplorable and shocking. I was then 12 years of age and now I m 80 and that scene still haunts me and I still do not understand.

This was my childhood.

DAWN OF MY...