The only man in the world to be struck by lightning seven times was ex-park ranger Roy C. Sullivan. Kami Rita Sherpa. 22 times climbed Mount Everest. These are records from Guinness book. But here is someone, though not featured in Guinness book, our member Mrs. Ranju Hore, peculiarly, used to get lost over and over again.
“I was about 5/6 years old then when I was lost in Kolkata roads. I came to Kolkata to attend wedding of one of my relatives. When everyone was busy, I thought of going around and have a look at the city. At that age it was merely a fun going out somewhere without elders in the family. The fun turned out to a nightmare for me when I realized that I couldn’t find my way back to my uncle’s house. It was almost evening and I was feeling extremely tired and hungry. At last I saw two policemen. I approached them and narrated my sad saga. They offered me food and helped me to reach my uncle’s place.” That was only the beginning. She got lost several times in Gariahat market while shopping with her daughter. However by that time she became smart enough to take help from the local people to come back home. Now the latest one. Last year during September-October she went to visit one of her relative to Mississauga, a city neighboring Toronto with her elder brother. Both the siblings after few days of morning walk, thought that they were aware of the streets and parks. One evening when her brother asked her to join at a park, she was confident enough to reach that park without any hassle. She walked for about 15-20 minutes in almost freezing temperature in the dark roads. She could neither find the park nor the house where they were staying and she was lost again. After about half an hour trying to seek help, a kindhearted person helped her back home. “Fortunately, I could remember the address”, she giggled.
Well, that’s what life is all about. You make funny slipups in the past and enjoy the incidents in your safe and sound present, not knowing such mistakes may occur in the future also.
Support Elders
Our member, Mr Brajadish Das, shares the story behind his family’s flight from Bangladesh and settling in south Kolkata’s Katjunagar, with Mousumi Gupta.
Our member, Mr Brajadish Das, shares the story behind his family’s flight from Bangladesh and settling in south Kolkata’s Katjunagar, with Mousumi Gupta.
Kolkata (then Calcutta) was unprepared for the rush of refugees, who had crossed the newly drawn borders at the time of and after Independence. The journey for the people of then East Bengal or East Pakistan, now Bangladesh, was one-way because they never went back.
Like many others, I left Bangladesh when I was about 12 years old with my mother and siblings. My father was already in Kolkata working with Mackinnon Mackenzie & Co.
Living in the cramped ‘mess bari’ or rented rooms was entirely different from staying at our ‘desher bari’ (country home). But after the Partition, the educated middle-class flocked to Kolkata because they knew the city had the best chance to find their feet. Instead of waiting passively for government help, they began to rehabilitate themselves in and around Kolkata. The old boundaries of the city suburbs were pushed back to accommodate the wave of added population.
Things were not different for us also. Then we came to know about this locality which had an absentee landowner. The area was an army barrack during World War II, but they left post-war. The houses had thatched roofs made out of hogla leaves available in Jadavpur. Slowly, those were converted to concrete houses with basic amenities like water, electricity and wide roads.
Once the basic requirements were fulfilled, we started thinking about other important things like getting postal address. For an address, we needed a name. So, the entire locality unanimously decided to name it after then West Bengal Governor Dr Kailash Nath Katju.
The funny part of naming it as Katjunagar came from the thought that if any untoward thing happened, it would hit the headlines in the next day’s newspaper, which no one would dare do. Though nothing happened, that is how the area got its name. Now, whenever I stroll in the locality, the history of the area flashes in my mind.
Our member, Mr Brajadish Das, shares the story behind his family’s flight from Bangladesh and settling in south Kolkata’s Katjunagar, with Mousumi Gupta.
Kolkata (then Calcutta) was unprepared for the rush of refugees, who had crossed the newly drawn borders at the time of and after Independence. The journey for the people of then East Bengal or East Pakistan, now Bangladesh, was one-way because they never went back.
Like many others, I left Bangladesh when I was about 12 years old with my mother and siblings. My father was already in Kolkata working with Mackinnon Mackenzie & Co.
Living in the cramped ‘mess bari’ or rented rooms was entirely different from staying at our ‘desher bari’ (country home). But after the Partition, the educated middle-class flocked to Kolkata because they knew the city had the best chance to find their feet. Instead of waiting passively for government help, they began to rehabilitate themselves in and around Kolkata. The old boundaries of the city suburbs were pushed back to accommodate the wave of added population.
Things were not different for us also. Then we came to know about this locality which had an absentee landowner. The area was an army barrack during World War II, but they left post-war. The houses had thatched roofs made out of hogla leaves available in Jadavpur. Slowly, those were converted to concrete houses with basic amenities like water, electricity and wide roads.
Once the basic requirements were fulfilled, we started thinking about other important things like getting postal address. For an address, we needed a name. So, the entire locality unanimously decided to name it after then West Bengal Governor Dr Kailash Nath Katju.
The funny part of naming it as Katjunagar came from the thought that if any untoward thing happened, it would hit the headlines in the next day’s newspaper, which no one would dare do. Though nothing happened, that is how the area got its name. Now, whenever I stroll in the locality, the history of the area flashes in my mind.
