This story is about the importance of mother tongue in
sticky situations. This incident happened during MinipressXL launch meeting in
Kolkata. At that time, I was posted at Dhanbad with another colleague Vivek. As
I was working for Pfizer lab so I used to meet many other Dumex PSOs from
territories other than Dhanbad. The Hazaribagh PSO was from Orissa. I; being a
Bihari; could speak Hindi and English. But because of my interaction with so
many Bengali colleagues, I had some rudimentary knowledge of Bangla. Vivek is a
Bengali so he can speak three languages, viz. Bengali, Hindi and English. But
Sukhendu Dada knew four languages, i.e. Oriya, Bengali, Hindi and English; by
virtue of coming from Orissa and working in Bihar (it was not divided at that
time). Sukhendu Dada and I had developed good friendship because of our common
interest in photography. He had deep knowledge of photography and he had agreed
to teach me the nuances of photography.
Digital cameras were still in the realms of science fiction;
especially for the Indians. Sukhendu Dada was advising me to buy an SLR camera
to be a serious photographer. We had planned to stay at Kolkata for a couple of
days after the launch meeting in order to buy the required camera from the grey
market in the dock area. As per the plan, three of us (Vivek, Sukhendu Dada and
Me) took leave so that we could stay back after the launch meeting. After checking
out from the five star hotel at Park Street, we were trudging with our luggage
to search a room in some cheaper hotels. You will find many cheap hotels in the
narrow alleys of area surrounding the Park Street. But there is a problem in
Kolkata. The hotel staffs usually create too much fuss while allowing a new
guest in. They would ask you many questions to assess if you are a genuine
person or not. In those days, there was no provision of showing ID proofs; the
way it happens now-a-days.
Nevertheless, we were walking slowly with our heavy luggage
in tow. I and Vivek were quite bulky and hence were panting for our breaths in
the typical humid weather of Kolkata. Sukhendu Dada is slim and trim and hence
he was sprinting like a hare. Moreover, while we were carrying too many bags,
he was carrying a thin suitcase and his detailing bag. Looking at our plight he
sarcastically said, “What do you think? Did you come here to attend a marriage
ceremony? You are carrying so many dresses as if it was a fancy dress party.
Look at me, I carry only as much as I can easily carry on my own.”
After that, he instructed Vivek to wait at one corner of the
sidewalk with all the bags. He instructed me to follow him in order to search
for a room in some hotel. We were hopping from one dingy hotel to another in
the hope of finding a room which met our need and budget.
It must have been the sixth or the seventh hotel where we
were trying to get a room. Sukhendu Dada was talking to the receptionist in
Bangla and I was trying to decipher the meaning of their conversation. The hotel
was built in old Haveli style; with an open courtyard surrounded by rows of
rooms on all the four sides. Suddenly, I heard someone shouting at the top of
his voice from the third floor. The receptionist sitting at the desk replied to
that shout in monosyllable.
Sukhendu Dada rushed to the third floor by sprinting through
the staircase. I was following him. There was a similar reception desk at the
third floor. A middle aged man was sitting behind that desk. Sukhendu Dada reached
there and just began to talk in Oriya. Within a few seconds, Sukhendu Dada gave
me the good news of success in finding a hotel room.
When we came out of that hotel to get hold of Vivek, I asked
Sukhendu Dada, “Dada, there was just a loud shriek from the third floor. Then how
did you guess that he was an Oriya fellow?”
Sukhendu Dada calmly replied, “Ajay, no matter which language
we speak or read in, our mind always thinks in our mother tongue. You can
easily recognize your mother tongue even if you are pulled out from a deep
slumber. The way he shouted was enough for me to know that he was an Oriya
fellow.”
No comments:
Post a Comment