Childhood
Igrew up in Patna. In 1973, once my senior year Cambridge results were out, my brother telephoned from Calcutta to say I had done exceedingly well. It was a surprise because I was just an average student. My brother even joked that the school must have made a mistake. My mother cooked mutton and luchi for everyone. She also made pantua and malpua. My father bought me a Guitar water colour set — a foreign brand that has long been discontinued — and paint brushes too. Before that, I had very little ambition, but that year changed it all. I started dreaming.
Arundhati Gupta, 70,
freelance writer
When I was in school I became addicted to reading. I would read by the light of an oil lamp. Very soon I became a captive of fiction and could barely make time for the school texts. Those days, I lived in my uncle’s house by the Jalangi river. The place had cast a spell on me. I miss those early years of discovering books. I wish I could see the Jalangi as it used to be then, touch its beautiful waters… but all that is lost.
Ansaruddin, 65,
marginal farmer and writer
In 1969, I was an average student but I liked geography. For our Class IX geography exam, I drew maps and filled my answer script with diagrams. I scored the highest and my teachers were very pleased. They showed my answer script to the whole school. That very year, our school football team participated in an inter-school league held at Vivekananda Park. It was a knock-out match; you lose one game and you are out. We won all four matches and bagged the Gorachand Shield. I was a striker; I scored three goals. After winning, we were treated to Mughlai paratha at Gariahat’s Das Cabin by our games teacher Brajen Chakraborty. It was a novelty for us because most of us were eating it for the first time. Next day, there was a photo session with the headmaster and the shield. Aside from official paperwork, none of us had our photographs taken before that day. That photograph was published in our school magazine. It was a great honour.
Bonomali Roy, 70,
lawyer
My father had a transferable job so I seldom attended the same school for more than two years. And I didn’t get to keep in touch with the friends that I made, nor did I try to keep in touch. But if I could go back to my school days, I would do things differently.
Ila Dasgupta, 78,
retired teacher
Iwish I could relive my student days. It was all about learning new things, playing, no care in the world... My friends and I used to
be inseparable, talking incessantly. I cannot explain how precious that golpo was.
Bani Chakrabarty, 67,
housewife
 The Middle
I would like to go back to the time when I was 37. My daughters were still in school. My goal in life was to see them well established, which, thank god, they are now. My best years were between this time and when they passed their board exams.
Bulbul Bhaduri, 75,
housewife
The 1980s were the best years of my life. I was posted at Jalpaiguri as a district health officer. We had to visit the tea gardens quite often. My colleagues and I would scour the area after work, have long addas at night. Once I was driving through the jungle and an elephant stood in the way. The driver and I held our breath and waited for it to pass. My work as a public health officer took me to many places and through many situations. Now when I think of it, it seems so much fun.
Shaktipada Mandal, 85,
retired doctor
In December 1978, my husband got transferred to Port Blair. He used to work for the Central Telegram Office. He is the eldest son of our household and as his wife, I had a lot of responsibilities. But because of his transfer, we had to leave everything and move. On the ship Harshavardhan, we were allotted a first-class cabin. Our co-passengers were the cast and crew of the film Sabuj Dwiper Raja. In Port Blair, we used to live in wooden cabins at Sadipur quarters. I could see the sea from our doorway. The families got very close to each other. We would host tea and breakfast for each other. There would be frequent cultural functions. In the afternoons, the women would get together on the beach and collect seashells. That year, during Durga Puja, my brothers visited us. We all went out together. My husband took part in a play, our children were very young. I felt so free and happy. We moved back after a year. I have never forgiven my husband for it.
Ila Chakraborty, 75,
housewife
 The Bend
Iwould go back to 1973. I was on the verge of marrying my girlfriend; I had filled in the application form for marriage registration and sent it across to her for her signature. However, she changed her mind. If I could go back in time, I would go back and correct all those mistakes I made that made her retract.
Sambhunath Bose, 73,
retired bank employee
My father died when I was in Class IV. I was a difficult child to manage, so my eldest brother sent me to a boarding school. When I was in Class V, three of us decided to run away from school. We scaled a wall and crossed the adjacent highway. One of my friends got run over that day. If I could go back, I’d like to go back and undo his death.
Pradip Sarkar, 68,
tea seller
That was 1977-78, just after the Emergency had ended. There was a sense of freedom and bonhomie in the air. We expected the new Janata Party coalition would bring about a change in the country. There was a promise of more freedom, a more egalitarian society and more jobs. I had completed my graduation and was planning to join university for a master’s degree. Some of my friends decided to explore the countryside and beyond on bicycles — desh dekhbo, that was the idea. We cycled down roads and dirt tracks and went up to North Bengal. We’d stop and talk to villagers. Oftentimes, we were treated to simple meals. We spent nights at temples, mosques, mazars and even Vaishnava akhras. That journey lasted about a month. I wish to go back to that era when people had large hearts.
Kapil Krishna Thakur, 70,
writer and activist
In the early-1990s, my wife and I were research students at Cambridge in the UK; we were also raising a little child. Cambridge was a beautiful little university town with the intimate Cam winding its way through the town and along the Backs, the picturesque rear grounds of famous Cambridge colleges such as King’s, Trinity and St John’s. Scholarship money was always inadequate, and we needed to change college flats every term. But these stresses were nothing in comparison to the life we led. My wife and I and our toddler learned to ride a bike together on the grassy expanse of Jesus Green; our cohort of student friends from a broad range of disciplines whiled away long nights in freewheeling adda; sometimes one would pass Stephen Hawking on the road… Never again had we felt so alive, so much in the moment, so closely surrounded by friends.
Jayanta Sengupta, 63,
historian
Iwould like to go back to 1968. I had just graduated and was part of a band. I played the bongo and triple congo. Eventually, I had to find a job, give up music.
Robin Bannerjee, 76,
retired government servant
What can poor people like us say? It has always been like this, trying to make ends meet.
Sambhu Sardar, 70,
sweeper
Idon’t want to go back. I like where I am now. I like not having to wake up to a long to-do list. I don’t feel compelled to meet deadlines and start new projects. I am learning to say “NO”, a word that was hard for me to say before. I am kinder to myself and more accepting of my flaws — I know them well. I am now fearlessly, totally me! It is a good place.
Jael Silliman, 70,
writer