Calcutta Diary: My father was a socialist, a trade union leader. After the day’s work was over, he would shower and then settle down with three pegs of whisky. From 9-11, he would drink and read. Baba’s reading was eclectic. He would read spiritual treatise, Marxian literature, comics, dense text. I could never keep up with his reading
By Gargi Sen
How to describe Sen Sa’ab, my baba, my father?
Banyan tree he was, sheltering so many, helping even more, always available, always smiling, compassionate to a fault. He had a wicked sense of humour, always teasing, always laughing, mostly at himself. Once he came back from the barber chuckling. He apparently told the barber that she should charge half as he had so little hair. The barber reparteed “I should charge double as I have to search for the hair to cut it.”
This pleased baba no end.
My mother, on the other hand, didn’t have a sense of humour at all. Jokes would have to be explained to her. I would watch baba being very gentle with her. Once she got it, there would be a loud guffow and every one could join in the laughter.
My father was a socialist, a trade union leader. He was the president of the western railway man’s union based in Bombay when he married. His mentor, JP (Jaya Prakash Narain) asked him to leave the trade union life and settle down. He placed Baba in a new organisation, Association of Voluntary Agencies for Rural Development (AWARD).
This was a very different kettle of fish. But baba took up the challenge. And in 1974, when JP gave the call of ‘Total Revolution’, baba was there, organising, supporting, creating the backbone of the movement.
Students joined in massive numbers. And Sen Sa’ab was on everyone’s lips. His trade union experience bore fruit.
With the Emergency came underground life. We didn’t see baba for months. He appeared suddenly one day and we had to shift, our house, his office. Meanwhile, through the Emergency, we faced raids. Funnily enough, it was the Income Tax Department raiding us.
We, who were church mice poor, would witness 30 people would arrive in several vehicles and start pulling things off shelves. The kitchen wouldn’t be spared either. Everything off the shelf and on the floor.
Bhai and I couldn’t go to school. The women would apologise to Ma. They didn’t understand why this was being done. They were only following orders. Ma understood. But everyone was helpless.
There was a brief period between the declaration of election, and polling. It felt like we could breathe. Baba was very busy, but happy.
Finally, the government changed. However, the euphoria or the government didn’t last long. It splintered, elections were called again, and Mrs Indira Gandhi returned to power.
In a vindictive mood, she initiated a commission of inquiry against few organisations who were in JP’s circle, including my father’s. The Kudal Commission.
Baba loved to read. He had a huge collection of Bengali books. He would read after lunch for half-an-hour or so, but his real reading would be at night.
After the day’s work was over, he would shower and then settle down with three pegs of whisky. From 9-11 he would drink and read. This was also a good time to talk to him. Baba’s reading was eclectic. He would read spiritual treatise, as well as Marxian literature, comics as well as dense text. I could never keep up with his reading.
The Kudal Commission eventually exonerated him completely. But it had taken its toll. For 12 years he fought almost single-handedly. He died two years after.
Gargi Sen is a filmmaker and writer based in Calcutta.