When I compare that brute with teachers of the stature of
Rev P.Y Gilson, Mrs. Indu Godura, Mrs. Dasgupta, Mr. Uday Roy from that very
institution, I wonder how such contradiction can exist within the boundaries of
the same school.
This isn’t about St.
Xavier’s school. This is about a single person whose ethos, personality, dedication
went beyond any measurement. That person is Sri A.N Deb, or as we knew him –
Deb Sir. The Late Principal of Bidhan Chandra Institution. This is my tribute
to Him.
During the critical period (from an academic perspective) of
11th and 12th grades, I had all but given up. I hardly
paid any attention to classes, study materials or anything having to do with
the upcoming terror of a slew of exams. In those days, the Engineering or
Medical Entrance exams were a make or break point. You qualify, and you walk on
roses (as we were made to believe) you don’t, walk on thorns. We had preparatory
exams. And as expected, my scores were abysmal. I did my best to hide it from
my parents. And after a day’s worth of gloom, I was back on the local field
playing football.
The sun had set, and in the dusk, while I felt oddly satisfied
having played some nice impromptu one touch artsy football the silhouette of someone
on a bicycle showed up on the edge of the field. I heard him call out my name.
It was my classmate Joymalya. Deb Sir had asked (ordered) me to see him at his
home early next morning along with my father.
I was scared to the point that I nearly crapped my pants. We
were all scared of the 5ft 6 inch man, with salt and pepper beard that walked
with a slight stoop and taught mathematics. He was strict; but never unfair. I
could not figure out what serious infarction I had committed to be summoned to
the lion’s den; that too with the other lion (my father).
Apparently, my father knew Deb Sir quite well and I was not
aware of that. The next morning, riding pillion on our scooter, we reached the
Tansen quarters. Me shaking like a leaf; my Dad’s eyebrows knitted in sure
signs of severe tongue lashing to come later. Deb Sir did not say much. He was
chewing paan. He brought out my Mathematics answer sheet, all checked and marked
with a paltry forty something percent and gently handed it to my old man. Who by
virtue of being an engineer was also a darn good mathematician.
Deb Sir uttered one sentence looking at me in the eye – “Will
it ever work if you keep going the way you are?”
Dad let out a deep sigh of resignation and simply stated – “I
am leaving him to you”
The three months after that were perhaps the most exciting and
enjoyable in my academic life. Somehow, I understood. Two years of material
cramped into 3 months and I loved every bit of it. No one had been able to make
me “see” calculus or hyperbolas or imaginary numbers. That was the effect of that
paan chewing, scary gentleman. Somehow, he managed to tie up such abstract
concepts into neat little bundles that could be “seen”. I understood that those
strange characters and weird curves explained so much. And from there it simply
lay bare. The world of Physics and Mathematics became intertwined, yet those
messy mazes had logic. I could close my eyes and see them untangle. An
incredibly special talent can do that to a student. Hence my Salute to a very
special teacher.
Deb Sir had absolutely no incentive to pull me under his
wings. He gained nothing but an ever-grateful student. He had before and
continued after to do the same with plenty of others. With his demise, I lost another
man from the universe of a few good men.
