Ranjan Bhattacharya is dead. He died by lung cancer in 1987. The
following is a remembrance I wrote weeping after his death for the Company
newsletter, though not as uncensored as this version, where both us then
worked. I didn’t want to write a hypocritical obituary; it should be as it was.
Today as I go through it I am awestruck by, in the words of Steve Jobs,
the connection of dots looking back.
WE MEET
Five years ago (1982) I
had been to the Company A’s interview
at The Great Eastern Hotel,
Calcutta. I had been shortlisted as a Officer Trainee, through a national level
Entrance Test (very similar to CAT) conducted by IIM Calcutta on behalf of the Company A. Here was a leading company of India, with an American
Multinational past and still enduring culture, a blue-chip Company as a career
prospect for a graduating Chemical Engineer like me.
All the prospective
Officer Trainees had come nervous and ready for a cut-throat 30 minutes Group
Discussion (GD) followed by a Interview. The panel came in and explained the
ground rules of the GD. The topic given was: Presidential System Vs Prime Ministerial System of Governance in India.
I silently swore at the staid topic and decided to play a smart game! I would
grab the delivery of opening the discussion, keep rambling for a couple of
minutes and then let others handle the baby. I was sure none of us would come up
with a fruitful discussion on this boring topic. So I planned to spend the
remaining time nodding and smiling energetically (pretending to be thoroughly
involved and understanding) and then pick up the lead in the last few minutes
and sum up with a flourish all the points which others would come out with!
The discussion started
aggressively. The lead from me was followed by a raucous medley before Number 5 - a plump, fair guy, with
an unruly mop of hair, having as many pimples on his handsome face as I had on
my ugly one. In impeccable English he began methodically listing the points in
favour of the Presidential System.
Immediately I sensed
‘danger’. My confidence (which tends to be in excess) took a jolt. In a few
minutes this articulate speaker was stage-managing the whole show. I decided to
play safe and avoided a direct confrontation with Number 5 – to stay in the run for selection, Others tried to match
him. Number 5 demolished them
with his speech, content and a most disarmingly charming smile!
In the last few minutes I
was desperately seeking to sum up the discussion to show “Leadership Qualities” to the Selectors
watching us. I somehow grabbed the lead, murmured something about time running
out and the need to sum up – and then I realized I did not know what to sum up! Panic engulfed me. My God I am caught in my
over-smartness. And then I played a dirty trick in desperation. With a flourish
of a dramatic act I said: “… though I favour the present system of Government,
I request Number 5 to sum up
today’s discussion for us. Thank You!”. Number 5 blinked for a while,
realized I was passing the buck to him; He recovered and flashing the same
disarmingly charming smile went on to make a superb summary of our discussion.
That was my First Meeting with Ranjan
Bhattacharya. A smart Chemical Engineer from the Jadavpur University.
WE MEET AGAIN, RANJAN
Some months later I was
surprised to get a joining letter from Company
A! In the days, when jobs (mostly IT) in the 3rd year like today's engineering colleges was not a norm and we all had to mostly job hunt on our own. I packed and got ready for the City of Gold. Initially we were put up at
the St Xavier's College Hostel,
Bombay where the Xavier Institute of Management was
to coordinate our 2-month residential Company Induction Programme. As we
stumbled into one another in the balcony of the conference room, the first thing
I got to hear was some curious juxtaposition of English, Hindi and Bengali gaalis for the dirty trick I had played
on him during the GD time! Then we became friends. I asked him what or who the
heck was a “ croak” or something like that he had kept talking in the GD that
day. Ranjan showed a grimace
of a superior intellect-possessed Entity, then went on to correct me with a
condescending smile- “ arrey Baba,
not a croak…. Howard Roark!”. I still had no idea what he was talking about
but the embarrassment of admitting my ignorance, even though I thought I
was a “well-read” person, I changed the topic.
Ranjan, I
liked your sense of humour more wacky even by my standards. You would out-match
my feeble attempts at witticisms. You had a full-throat laughter that went on
non-stop for at least 2 minutes and sounded something between a thundering
cloud and a screeching automobile. But it was infectious! I was awed by your well-read intelligence. You
finally explained about Howard Roark
in Ayn Rand’s Fountainhead,
which I had to read 5 times before I understood it and it went to become a
gospel for me. What You found in me, God only knows; but we soon became inseparable
friends.
(Author's Note: It is remarkable how many instances of The Fountainhead have repeated in my life till today as I look back albeit in a more real-life versions. Do we start copying our gospels or is it a beyond-our-understanding happenings?)
We would go to restaurants, and while others sipped bottles of beer on getting the first salary, we gulped glasses of ‘lassi’ competing to finish the largest number of ‘Lassis’.
We were a “Unity in
Extremity”. You spent the time impressing the visiting faculty at the Xavier’s classes, I spent the time
impressing (or trying to) the girls in the class. When I fell head over heels
in infatuation for a girl, I thought I was great; You called me a fool. You
were right. Where she went I have no idea!
Suffering your “I told
you so”s after that, I took my revenge by
winning the 2nd prize in Public Speaking in the finals at the Taj Hotel, Bombay ballroom where You
lost. In the evening we went to the Leopold
Café and drank beer for the first time the whole night, and then walked
drunk on the deserted streets of Bombay till dawn, when it dawned on us
that we had not informed the Xavier’s Hostel of our night-out and we will have
to pay a severe penalty for the same.
![]() | |
Skinny Dipping! |
We would dream of making
a Writer-Cartoonist team which
would generate comics better than Goscinny-
Uderzo’s Asterix comics. My great idea was about a hero HanuMAN - the Original Superman! It never materialised because we could never
decide which one of us was a better writer or a cartoonist. (and today people have cartoon series on Bal Ganesha, Bal Hanuman, etc!!) We decided to break
our ‘virginity’ of drinking hard drinks in the coming Officer’s Party. We lost
it totally that night and spent the next day trying to prove each other more drunk
than self. Till the next Officer’s party when it would start again.
Even for the following
8-month around-the-departments training we were together in the same sub group.
During the day we would try to out-smart each other in influencing the
department manager who among us was the more intelligent one; the evenings we
would rip apart the concerned manager in the most irreverent terms. In 1983
after the training we got posted in different departments. You in Operations and I in Technical Services. Typically, we wanted each other’s department!
WE QUARREL
Then something
unbelievable happened. We fought. We stopped talking. We did not talk for
weeks. Abused each other behind each other’s back. It looked we would never
talk again. And then one evening as I alighted from a car lift back home I saw
You waiting near the gate. I pretended not to have seen you and was surprised
as I crossed you that You called out my name. I turned and then seeing your
face I knew something major was up. You asked me to help You. When I heard the problem I was shocked and
also pained that You of all people would have done it. But it was not time to
talk about morality. You were scared of the symptoms and feared the worst. We
quietly slinked out of the colony and caught a cab to the nearest Government hospital. I chose a government hospital for anonymity versus if we went to a private doctor. As I sat near you I grimaced and trying to not let you know I had shifted away from
your touch. Who knows if it was infectious.
In the cab You confessed that during your visit to Kolkata on holidays You had gone out to drink with your friends and got badly drunk and landed up in a ‘coloured’ area. On waking up You realized what You had ended up doing. And now you were afraid if you were infected. I was flabbergasted. Ranjan not You. Man not only we are virgins, we with all the pretences were supposed to remain so….. well at least not lose it with such a person! You looked so crestfallen and made me swear that I will not tell anybody. I said I won’t but shifted a few more inches away from you as discreetly as I could.
In a queer way having
listened to you, Ranjan, I felt
proud it was I you thought of to take help from even when we were not talking. I
took it as a endorsement of my trustworthiness.
I didn’t know which dept.
to take you to. So using my bookish GK I sneak to a matronly looking nurse
sitting nearby and whisper – “Ma’am where is the STD dept.?”. That bitch
screams and say “… Kya bolto…. STD dept.
pahije?”. Hundreds of heads in a crowded government hospital turned towards ME and then jumped back!!!! Ranjan had already melted into the
crowd. And I felt like a idiot standing there as sniggers abounded around me making
fun of me and commenting on the wayward youth. WTF!! In horror I leaned further
towards the matron trying to gesticulate to her to tone down. It only spurred
her to continue in loud shrieks giving me the directions and then as I tried to
bolt she came out with the lightning…..” Kya
kiya hai tumne, eh?”. I must have run my fastest 100 metres of my life from
her to try and melt into the crowd and then finding in horror the crowd running
faster away from me.
Finally
the STD department is reached.
Another bulldog-looking matron is sitting there. Wiser, I go and whisper to her
that, “ I have come for my FRIEND’s problem; please take care of us by not
speaking loud”. Her logic was impeccable. “ Kay
ko Sharmane ka…. Sab yahi bolte hai! Aur
tum yeh STD department mein aaya hain toh sab ko waise hi maloom ho gaya!!!
Just bolo kya hain?”. I turned back
with a murderous look to find Ranjan
hiding behind a pillar and asked him curtly to come over and tell her. A doctor
was due so we were asked to wait. The doctor came accompanied by a dozen of
medical students, young men and women, and went into the chamber. We both looked
at each other with white faces and were on the verge of getting up and running,
when the bulldog matron called Ranjan
in.
After a long interval Ranjan came out looking totally
devastated. I was gearing up for the worst. He caught my arm and we both
sprinted out of the hospital. In the midst of the run I realized he was holding me!!!!! Vision of having the
worst sufferings of my friend’s indiscretions flooded my brain. But was it too
late anyway? As we stood under the shade of some thick trees outside, He told
me there was nothing to fear. It was a minor temporary thing and it would be
all ok soon. Gosh. Then I asked him why was he looking so crestfallen coming
out of the doctor’s room. He hesitated and wanted to change the topic. On my
persistence that I’m there to help him and I should know all….Ranjan confessed. He would have been
happy after the check-up if it had not been done in front of all the dozen
interns, with his pants down, and having to wait till a long academic lecture
to students ended on his affliction!
The good news and the now
hilarious once-in-a-life experience coupled with the pride I felt that he came
to me for critical help was exhilarating. I thought we will never fight again.
We did a few months later. May be it was because of some doubts about secrecy or
may be our great friendship was too much in glare. Ever since from 1984 we have
never talked to each other (though we did make some feeble indirect attempts). AND
NOW FROM 1987 onwards WE CAN NEVER TALK.
Over the next 3 years
from 1984, You went on picking new
friends with your varied activities and zest for life. I went on picking up new
enemies with my active tongue and rigid mind.
I talked about trekking, You went to trek. I talked about adventure
sports. You went mountaineering and skiing. I dreamed about becoming a glamour
photographer. You actually clicked! I
became a laughing stock with my Bullet motor bike accidents. You beat me in it
by having the largest number of scooter falls in the shortest period of time.
Yes Ranjan. Whether we talked or not, it
was always a game of One-upmanship between us. You one-upped me on the first
day we met in the GD; You one-upped me in all types of adventures; Ranjan you were one-up even in our
bloody names! (and to rub it in Bengal they always wrote my name a Ranjan!)
And now You are ONE-UP by
leaving this god-forsaken world.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Ng7bpAtUTPt-RMv3dD8I8q_Waee6ktmylmzKTpZ7XHzCZpWjBYlaA93b-NgEEyz4iBQCimQdi1hH-L3tk2mXzd2qhyMG7vviFvH6I0qbUHuuzEgHkPVSPO9k_8mhPaJ2xpI8gJr9bss/s640/Ranjan+Bhattacharya.jpg)
You have WON, my friend;
as usual as you have won. Heads You win, the Tale is of my loss.
Au Revoir!
© Rajan Kapoor 2012
© Rajan Kapoor 2012
The GD story you shared with us in the class room. The rest I came to know today only. It's wonderful.
ReplyDeleteI do remember of the GD event...you discussed it in your very first GD class with us and ended up saying that " street smart is good but cannot help you always if you dont have the requisite knowledge"....
ReplyDeleteThanks for remembering some gyaans of mine!
Delete