Dear Sir Winston, For many of my Dad’s generation, you were the Sobers of the world beyond cricket, an incredible all-rounder: soldier, journalist, statesman, orator, writer, Prime Minister, Nobel Laureate. Though not of that age, I too admired you — till very recently. You lost a fan, Sir Winston, the day I came across these two quotes attributed to you:

(1) “I shall always be glad to have seen Calcutta… for the simple reason that it will not be necessary for me to ever see it again.”

(2) “Calcutta is full of supremely uninterested people endeavouring to assume a haughtiness suitable for the season.”

While you rest in peace, I’m sure you won’t mind if the rest read my piece.

My comment on your first comment is ‘Theek achey, meney neelam.’ My city isn’t a tourist’s haven. There are many like you who swear never to set foot in it again. Not a problem! What I do have a serious problem with is your second comment. Labeling Calcuttans, of your age or mine, as ‘uninterested’ and ‘haughty’ could mean one of two things: you didn’t meet too many of them or you weren’t a very good judge of people. Going by your handling of British war forces when the chips were down, the latter obviously isn’t true. Therefore, I cannot help but conclude, that you didn’t meet a real Calcuttan, the ones I’m fortunate enough to meet every day. To illustrate my point, Sir Winston, allow me to introduce you to a few real Calcuttans I bumped into over the last fortnight in this crowded city of mine.

Meet H.P. Budhia, a leading industrialist of the city. In spite of his seniority in age and position, he agreed to be chief guest at the inter-school Know Your India Quiz at the Calcutta Book Fair at a day’s notice, because it was for children. ‘Haughty’, did you say? Mr Budhia and his son, Sanjay, are comparatively new Calcuttans. They moved to the city from Assam in 1978 and have woven their work and vision into the fabric of the city. Yes, they are very busy exporting light electrical goods to your closest friends and co-writers of the Atlantic Charter, manufacturing tanks, pipes and palettes from their three factories, but they still find the time and the inclination to give back ten-fold to the city that has made them rich and famous. As Chairman of the Eastern Region of CII, Sanjay Budhia has taken the cream of corporates away from their big-city-fixation by showcasing the feasibility of flower exports from Panskura and the promise the likes of Shantiniketan and Siliguri hold. All this while he immerses himself in Bengali culture and his company, Patton Ltd., in the well-being of his city. ‘Uninterested’, did you say?

H.P. Budhia, J.K. Sen and Sribindu Bhattacharya (top, left to right) with the winners of the Know Your India Quiz at the Calcutta Book Fair Picture by Rashbehari Das

Speaking of which, allow me to introduce you to J.K. Sen, the principal of Julien Day School, Ganganagar, who found the time and the inclination to add a little more value to the Calcutta Book Fair this year. If he was ‘uninterested’ in the life of his city, would he have worked so hard to get students from over 50 schools to dive deep into their India knowledge banks for the quiz? He could have been ‘haughty’ and selfish and used his time and energy only for the welfare of his own students. Instead, he took an ‘interest’ in others too.

At the Book Fair, I met Sribindu Bhattacharya, one of its sturdiest pillars. In spite of pressure from crowds and corporations, hassles of bandhs and power cuts, he kept his cool. He’s ‘interested’ enough to work tirelessly even though his wife continues to fight a serious kidney ailment with dialysis even while the Fair goes on.

Sir Winston, I wish you had met Cyrus Madan, a busy Parsee businessman, horse-racing guru and theatre-person, who took time off from everything to help organise an exhibition to mark 3000 years of Zoroastrianism. Always ‘interested’, Cyrus never says ‘no’ if the cause is his community or his city.

It’s a pity I can’t introduce you to the members of Bhoomi, our answer to your long-haired lovers from Liverpool. Not in music styles or in world popularity, but in terms of local charts and crowd hysteria, they match John-Paul-George-Ringo all the way. At ICC Calcutta Foundation’s Better Calcutta Contest awards ceremony on Saturday, they mesmerised corporate honchos and school children alike with their earthy brilliance.

It was their 23rd show of the calendar month; they are booked through till the end of April; a couple of thousand disappointed Indian-Americans couldn’t lay their hands on 60-dollar-tickets for their sell-out shows in California and Los Angeles during the Pujas last year. In spite of their fortune and fame, they are really down-to-earth and have their feet firmly on the ground, which is perhaps why they are called Bhoomi. Judging by how sportingly they egged on the children of Mentaid and IICP to freak out on stage, it’s most unlikely that our boys will get as ‘haughty’ as yours did before they split in the 60s.

I could even introduce you to infant-Calcuttans who have been in the city only a couple of years and yet, are so in love with it. I met one at Science City at the same function last week. She’s American, a diplomat’s wife and she’s seen the world. With her flowing blonde-brunette locks and range of sparkling saris, she romances Calcutta with soul and song, serenading it wherever she goes. That afternoon she congratulated the young Calcuttans present who had worked hard over the last six months to make it a Better Calcutta, with her Indian version of Woody Guthrie’s This land is your land. If that wasn’t enough, she belted out a Rabindrasangeet as if in an opera and sang our National Anthem from deep within. She may be a new Calcuttan, but she says, no matter where her husband’s work takes her, the city will always occupy a special place in her heart, because of its people — so intense, so passionate, so special.

So, Sir Winston, on hindsight, I’m sure you will agree with Lee-Alison Sibley — not because she’s American like your old friend, Roosevelt, or because her country and yours drew up the Atlantic Charter. I’m convinced you’ll have a rethink, for all the right reasons.

Sure, you could call us lazy lumps on garbage dumps; you could call us big-talkers and jay-walkers; you could call us bandh-makers and rally-rakers; but uninterested and haughty we are not; till we meet, will you please give it a thought?

Warm regards,
Barry