Chinmay Chakravarty's Blog: CHINMAYC BLOG

A Hero adoration, fascination and love for whom never left my heart—frommy childhood days to the present day. Yes, the Hero for me! Embodiment of aperson I could trust and depend upon since my tenderest years! Let it be just ascreen person or an image only, he lived in my heart like the dearest member ofthe family! Yes, he's been family, also like a father figure, like my ownfather! A protector, the He-Man who destroys evil with his bare hands; an umbrella thatcovers the weak or the vulnerable at every dark corner; and the Hero whoconquers all obstacles and hurdles with smiling ease! Dharmendra! The nameitself is a legacy and the countless images that follow and immerse the legacyin colorful vastness! My heart housed in an ageing frame now is still immersed inthe legacy! What a hero Dharmendra (1935--2025) has been! Almost hero-worshipedhim @5 and still adoring him @65, and mourning his loss today with aninconsolable heart! Kudos for one of the greatest movie heroes of world cinemaof all times!

A few days back rumours about Dharmendra'sdemise flooded the social media and even some irresponsible mainstream media.So much so that Hema Malini had to post clarifications about his wellbeing andlater his successful homecoming. But alas! The Hero could hold that Destinyback only for a few days more, finally calling it a day at a Mumbai hospitaltoday. After nearly a 7-decade long career in Indian Cinema during which henever called it a day as long as screen performances were concerned. His threebrilliant actor sons, Sunny Deol, Abhay Deol and Bobby Deol adored and lovedhim as much, often bringing him in a movie project for the love of hisnever-fading screen presence. Not just his sons, but many other top actors alsobrought him in for the unique opportunity to perform with him. A Legend!

No! It's pointless to write about his career and work! It's availableeverywhere in huge and loving abundance. I'll only write about a simple feelingabout him in me when I was a primary school child. My father used to send us,with an escort, often to the movie houses for mostly action-adventure moviesinvolving King Kong, Dara Singh and, of course, Dharmendra. My younger brotherand I wept in the theatre when we watched Dharmendra getting stabbed and dying,writhing on the floor in pain, in that particular movie in the early sixties.But toward the end of the film we erupted in ecstasy when we saw him active andalive again. In that tender age we could hardly decode a flashback! Yes!Flashbacks can really help now and forever! We can fly far back to Phool Aur Patthar or Satyakam or Mera Gaon Mera Desh or Anupama ;move forward to Aankhen or Raja Jani or Pratiggya or Sholay or Hukumat ; and back and forth to numerousothers like on a time travel! Forever Dharmendra!
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His house was less thanhundred meters from ours and in the same lane, that is to say, in the immediateneighborhood, and therefore, he could pass as one of our neighbours in thestrictest sense. However, our relations with him hadn’t been as good neighbours,it was a doctor-patient relationship. Per our information he rented this flat forhis practice while his family lived in the parental house in a nearby locality.Unless in an emergency, he went back to his family every night. At times, his wifeand son came over to live with him. The flat is a one-bedroom affair: a smalllobby greets you in from the main door and as you turn to your right to enterhis little chamber you find straight ahead the kitchen slab which looks hardlyever used staring at you while the room on your left you’re sure is thebedroom; as you pass the door of the chamber you find a few chairs and a tablepropped up against the wall on your right and in front is the interior of theroom containing the doctor’s paraphernalia including a longish bed for patients;and sitting on a chair you can easily notice the movements in the lobby and entryor exit from the curtained bedroom on your left as well the treatment process infront of you.

That evening I went therewith my wife. Yes, she’s been the patient over the years, mainly for sometherapy sessions while I’ve been the attendant cum bodyguard—my wife havinglittle faith in male therapists. His wife happened to be living with him atthat time, and in the lobby my wife chatted with her for a few minutes whilethe doctor readied the straps and the machine and I watched sitting in one ofthe chairs. Sideways, I also noticed the curtains of the bedroom completelyclosed as my wife entered the chamber.

After putting the strapsin the right places and timing the machine the doctor occupied the revolvingchair by my side. I heard sounds of some utensils from inside the bedroom andthought his wife must be busy. All of a sudden, the doctor rose from his chair,passed me and disappeared into the bedroom. Moments later, he emerged frombehind the curtains with a small steel bowl and a spoon in his hands. He satdown quietly by my side and started to eat, taking spoonfuls of something intohis mouth at quick intervals.

I felt ill at ease,because I don’t remember this kind of host-behavior in my insignificantlifetime. I’ve been used over the decades to the saying that if somebody eatsalone in a group it’s always the eater who feels shy and hesitant. However, whatwas happening at that instant was its exact opposite—the host eating inabsolute bliss while the others fidgeted. Well, it’s only me, I thought, and notmy wife who looked completely absorbed welcoming the soothing waves sent intoher body by the machine; perhaps she resorted to that oblivion in recognitionof the unique spectacle unfolding.

The doctor finishedeating and deposited the utensils inside, and resumed his seat. After a fewminutes I thought I heard a soft moan-like sound the meaning of which I couldnot decipher—but obviously, it was coming out of his wife’s vocal chords—and thedoctor responded immediately. He rose, passed me and disappeared behind thecurtains. When he emerged again he was carrying another bowl with anotherspoon. He resumed his seat by my side and started to eat.

I tried my best to switchoff my smelling device so as to deactivate my sniffing ability—a move extremelynecessary under those special circumstances, for if you get the fragrance in, salivastarts accumulating in your mouth that you cannot gulp down without making asound, howsoever subtle or suppressed. This happens to me, if not to others aswell, on such occasions, irrespective of whether I’m hungry or not. I didn’tknow what he was eating each time, and I never wished to know. I didn’t disturbhim either, as he seemed to be enjoying the dishes immensely.

For the remainder of thetime with the doctor that evening my mind went into an overdrive, perhaps moreso since my other sensory organs were switched off. Why was he doing that blatantact in a land known for exemplary hospitality? I gathered a few possiblereasons, but no definite conclusion.

Maybe he was very hungryand didn’t have enough time for the evening snacks, but before leaving home mywife informed him and he asked her to come in ten minutes. Maybe as a doctor herighteously differentiated between a normal visitor and a patient or attendant;that while all are visitors, some of them are guests who only get the privilegeof being entertained. However, I visited doctors’ residences quite a few timesand they always have a separate chamber for patients with a secretary sittingin the passage used as the waiting room, and they never ate there. Most importantly,why did the doctor eat there in front of us and not inside with his wife, forduring that time the machine was taking care and he didn’t have a pressing needto be present? I had no answer to that. Anyway, why should we waste our timeand energy over such inanities like that?https://chinmaycwrites.blogspot.com/f...

My source who happens to be aresourceful domestic help of the owner of the building block where I’ve renteda flat with my family informed me the other day that in the vacant flatopposite to mine a youngish individual had moved in. To my immediately obviousquery he replied with a smile the said individual is not a bachelor, but has agood family with a working wife in their native place, and on being transferredthe individual has rented the flat. Okay, no bachelor parties to disturb us orthe family of the owner, I thought with a relaxed mind, yes, the owner as I knowhim for several years would never invite trouble by letting the flat to justanybody. I wanted to meet my new nextdoor neighbor as we’re are used to, our old-fashionedor rather rustic ways, in our long history of cultivating cordial relations with our neighboursas well as with the respective owners. However, luck didn’t shine on me forquite some time.

Several days passed, still no sight ofthe new neighbor. Then, fortunately, just before the start of the Durga Pujacelebrations I happened to confront him as he was moving out on some errand atthe same minute I did. He was a tall, slim and simple-looking guy with a thinmoustache, adding a rather insignificant detail to his plain face, and probablyin his early forties. He accosted me with a smile and held the small metalsliding door that provides exit and entry into the passage and which thesafety-oriented owner always insists on being kept locked all the time makingkeys available to all the resident families, open for me to pass.

As we walked through the lane toward themain road I started an exchange of greetings with him and a brief conversationensued till we parted ways at the main road. I was happy to learn that hisfamily of wife and two kids was coming to him for the Puja holidays, and I promptlyinvited them to our house. He smiled nodding in acknowledgement and said thathe was at that point of time going to the nearest LPG agent for an urgent gasconnection. I understood the necessity and wished him good luck.

The Durga Puja holidays came andpassed. During those five days I had no information as to when his family came andhow they were putting up or if he managed to get the gas connection. Unfortunately,my source had also gone to his native village to spend the holidays with hisfamily. However, I came to recognize the tell-tale signs that the members ofhis family had indeed arrived and were enjoying: at the somewhat relaxedmorning hours every day when we come out to visit the nearest Puja pandal wefind a huge lock on his door which remained like that for the rest of the day; andduring late night when I check the passage before shutting the door for thenight I find a heap of shoes and sandals in front of his closed doorway. I washappy they were enjoying together in the new city and perhaps it was theirfirst Puja tour. From our own experience I was certain they must’ve booked avehicle for their tours on a daily basis.

I had no knowledge either which dayfollowing the holidays his family left. One morning while going out to collectthe newspaper I found his house locked with the huge lock and not a single pairof shoes or sandals was there to be found. I surmised he must’ve accompaniedhis family back to their native place and would maybe return soon to resume hisforced bachelorhood. I smiled to myself, not exactly knowing why.

Just before closing thedoor I instinctively looked at the passage separating his main door from mine. Includingthe staircase going up to the owner’s residences the distance was barely seven or eightfeet. I locked my door to it, sat down at the dining table chair and started readingthe newspaper.https://chinmaycwrites.blogspot.com/f...

Rohit Sharma is among themost aggressive yet elegant, correct and stylish, not to be called pinchhitters, openers of Indian Cricket, starting with Farokh Engineer (mostly in TestCricket those days except for the World Cup-1975), on to Sachin Tendulkar, SouravGanguly, Ajay Jadeja, Virender Sehwag, Gautam Gambhir and concluding withYashasvi Jaiswal. They’ve always been a delight to watch and the early fall oftheir wickets cast a doom for cricket fans invariably, often for the team too.Rohit Sharma has excelled in the limited overs format (making his debut in T20Iand in ODI in 2007) with quite a few world records for most runs in T20I, mostsixes in international cricket, most double hundreds (3) in ODIs (One Day Internationals),most centuries (7) in Cricket World Cups, most centuries (5) in a single WorldCup for which he won the ICC Men’s ODI Cricketer of the Year in 2019 and theindividual record of the highest 264 runs in ODI cricket. A player of such immensetalent and potential could not be ignored for Test Cricket for long, and Rohitmade his Test debut in 2013 under a trusting MS Dhoni and became a deservingall-format cricketer. But for his frequent loss of form at various junctures,like in around 2009-10 due to which he wasn’t selected for the historic WorldCup-2011, the Hitman, as he was fondly called in the white-ball cricket,would’ve gone on to break many more world records.

As keen followers ofcricket, including this writer, we cannot keep our eyes off from Rohit once hecomes in to bat and on that particular day when he gets going, his antics withthe bat get fascinating and too good to believe. His innings are pureentertainment in cricket batting display, not just raw hitting, but sound copybookstyle attacking aggressive batting. I often tended to compare his delightfulbatting with Virender Sehwag and got my full vindication in what Sunil Gavaskarsaid about the Hitman:

The standout performer in both the limited overs series and the T20 serieshas been Rohit Sharma. Like Virender Sehwag before him, he is unstoppable oncehe gets going and like Viru he has an appetite for big hundreds. When Viru usedto get out looking to hit another delivery out of the park, there used to beconsternation around the ground, just like it is when Rohit gets out to aseemingly casual shot. If Rohit can turn his white ball exploits into red ballcricket, he will be the most destructive batsman in the world after VivRichards and Virender Sehwag.

No doubt Rohit Sharma was appointed a regular all-formatcaptain of Team India in 2022, following Virat Kohli. During his short tenuretill 2025, Rohit has the highest success rate percentage of 75 among IndianCaptains, followed by Kohli with 68% and MS Dhoni with 55%. His tenure includesthe triumphs of the ICC Men’s T20 World Cup-2024, the ICC Champions Trophy-2025,the Asia Cup-2018, the Asia Cup-2023, and he was also a member of the teamwinning the ICC Champions Trophy-2013. He also had a stint as Team Captain inthe away Test Series against South Africa in 2018 due to Virat Kohli beingrested and under his leadership India won the Series 2-1. He led Team Indiafrom the front in the ICC Men’s World Cup-2023 with scintillating individualscores thus contributing for his team remain unbeaten till the Final; andunfortunately, he narrowly missed scripting his most deserving achievement.Various commentators made various observations about that fateful Final againstAustralia that includes pitch errors, a few players’ motivation factors andIndia’s batting order decisions.

There’s been lot of joy among the Indiancricket fans with the announcement of Team India squads for the upcoming IndiaTour of Australia, for Rohit Sharma and Virat Kohli have been selected for theODI squad. It’s almost like the last opportunity to watch those two legendaryinternational batsmen in action. With Gautam Gambhir, the Indian Head Coach,nurturing and already building a young Team India of the future, it’s highlyunlikely these two superstars would be retained for the World Cup-2027 as bothof them will be turning forty years of age that time around.

As we’ve mentioned earlier Rohit’s frequentloss of form affected his otherwise stupendous cricket career with roadblocks.His disastrous batting form in the home Test Series against New   Zealandin 2024 in which India got whitewashed 0-3, a rare drabbing in decades, and the1-3 loss in the away Test Series the same year against Australia proveddefinitive as far as his Test career was concerned. Meanwhile, Head CoachGautam Gambhir has launched himself fully in the act of ending the so-called‘superstar cult’ within Indian Cricket and providing avenues for young cricketerswho have done excellently in the IPL and in domestic cricket. With ChiefSelector Ajit Agarkar giving full backing the two greats were dropped from theTest cricket team against England this year. Anticipating the move Rohit Sharmaas well as Virat Kohli announced their retirement from Test Cricket. They’dalready retired from the T20I format following India’s triumph in the T20 WorldCup-2024. The current churning in building a young team is very much similar toCaptain Cool MS Dhoni’s efforts to ease out the greats of Ganguly, Dravid andTendulkar. Perhaps the same thinking has been applied to another aggressivebatsman Surya Kumar Yadav (fondly SKY) who’s already turned 35 keeping him ascaptain of the T20 national team as long as he succeeds in winning and notconsidering him for either the ODI or the Test teams. Well, inevitably enough,the process of elimination and elevation seems to be in full swing for thevision of the World Cup-2027. With Gambhir’s apparent adoration for ShubmanGill, the later seems to be the obvious choice for the all-format Captain forTeam India in the near future, closely following which ‘vision’ he has beennamed the India captain for the ODI squad against Australia replacing RohitSharma.  

But of course, cricket fans are most likely setto go on watching these two greats in action in the future versions of the IPL.Rohit also has one of the most successful cricket captain careers as Captain ofthe Mumbai Indians IPL Franchise winning five Champion titles during 2013-2020,equalling the record of the MS Dhoni for the Chennai Super Kings Franchise. Inthe last IPL Virat Kohli had finally asserted himself for his RoyalChallengers, Bangalore Franchise helping it win its maiden Champion title.

Maybe all is not over yet for Rohit and Virat.We’re set to watch them in the ODI Series against Australia that starts 19thOctober, 2025. It’s their performances there that’d matter the most. If theyare able to reproduce a streak of their masterclass vintage innings yet again,they might as well get back into contention for the next World Cup in spite ofthe Vision or at least for more of the ODI series to unfold in the near future! 

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At her ripe age Lakshmi ought to havebeen in the comfort of her home, resting, cooking and taking loving care of hergrandchildren. Lakshmi does have a home if it can be called that. She owes itto her late husband who migrated to the city during the 1971 war along withLakshmi, a newly-wed couple, and struggled direly in the new environs for food andfor a roof over them. She calls him lucky enough to finally come to own aone-room tenement in the sprawling slum thanks to the kindness of a local leader.Although the slum was unauthorized her husband was able to get an illegalelectricity connection too, and till today it remains illegal, for Lakshmicannot afford to acquire a proper electricity connection. Her husband worked asa hand rickshaw puller and her household was running well for the next fewyears during which their son was born.

Then tragedy struck: her husband succumbedto tuberculosis leaving her alone with her school-going son. In spite of herdetermination to continue to educate him, she was forced to let him learn andwork in the construction industry. Her intelligent son soon became an adeptconstruction worker, and again, her household was running well for a few yearsmore. She got his son married to a good slum neighbor’s daughter and two boyswere born in the next three years. Tragedy struck once again: her son, hardlyinto his forties, died in a building collapse, resting on Lakshmi now the sole responsibilityof managing the household. Therefore, Lakshmi does have a home and does have grandchildren.

She protects her daughter-in-law fiercely:from the stares of the loose males in the neighborhood as she began going outto earn a little and run the household; she insists on educating hergrandchildren come what may; and later, under the pressing circumstances shehad to allow her daughter-in-law to start working as a maid, but only in few selectedrespectable families as her rag-picking riches were not enough to sustain heraspirations.

Lakshmi goes out on her job at leastthrice daily—in the early morning hours, around noon time and in the lateevenings. These Durga Puja days she has to work overtime, for the impactingfootfalls of the millions of Puja hoppers and revellers leave a trail of itemsto be picked. She hates the littered overflowing parks and stadiums, thestreets, the shop corners and backyards, and the garbage dumps; but sheunderstands the potential for her in that ocean of filth.

The other day only Lakshmi achieved aprize catch: she collected so many intact undamaged water bottles that she wasunable to carry those on her person. So she examined the additional dump underthe street lamp and eventually discovered a large packed plastic bag which, shewas sure, contained only dry torn items. She carefully loosened the knot on thebag and finally opening it poured all the items on the dump. Then she filled itwith all her bottles neatly and completely, and went to the merchant hiddensomewhere inside the sprawling slum, merrily.

Lakshmi wants to do so many things forthe comfort of her two grandsons, but unable to accomplish anything significant.She gets very angry: ask the local leaders or anybody for that matter for anykind of help or favour that she needs urgently and they demand money inexchange. How could anybody demand money from someone who struggles even tomanage the daily two meals? She cannot understand. In fact, Lakshmi is nowtired of asking for favours, she’s fed up, and unwilling to seek help, instead,she undertakes the ‘do it yourself’ mission in full.

She doesn’t ever botherabout the future. What concerns her is the present, only the present that, forher, is the greatest challenge, the greatest hurdle to overcome. She has tocarry on with that. Carrying on the with present struggle to survive and live isher only future, her family’s future and her grandchildren’s future.https://chinmaycwrites.blogspot.com/f...

 

Call it coincidence or anything of thatsort, for it happened again at the same Durga Puja pandal I mentioned in theprevious story. This time it was early afternoon. I was sitting on a plasticchair inside the pandal and facing the Goddess Durga idol as the priests wenton with the ritualistic puja and mantra. An old man, definitely in hisseventies the right or wrong side of which I wasn’t too sure, came in andoccupied the empty chair next to me. He was slim, of medium height, cleanshaven with a bald head and specs on, and was clad in a pair of blue jeans anda white kurta that went down belowhis knees. The very next moment he solved my right-or-wrong riddle andannounced with a warm smile.

“Hi dear! I’m eighty-two, you know! Iwas born and brought up in this locality, got educated in the nearby schoolsand the colleges and worked my full career living in our parental house. After morethan twenty years of retirement I still live here,” he went on with aspontaneous articulation as if he knew me since ages, “every time during Puja Imake it a point to visit all the pujas in the neighborhood and assess people’s moodsand progress. Listen! I do it on foot, okay? Since morning today I’ve beendoing it and this puja is the last stop on my roundup, before I go home andrest! Do I look tired, dear?”

Almost snatching the slight pause inhis elocution I responded quickly. “Oh definitely not, sir! You’re full of energyand spirit!... Okay, great meeting you!”

Perhaps he was a little short ofhearing, but anyhow he brushed away my compliments and resumed his discourse. “Yousee, dear! Age does catch up! I feel a bit weak in my knees and at this momentmy knee caps are aching…but I carry on!” he fondly caressed his knees.

I didn’t want to let this thread goeither! So I responded as quickly as before. “Not an issue at all, sir! You’re veryactive, and that’s the secret of your fitness and energy. I think you ought to remainactive—physically and mentally—always. Nowadays, it’s the younger lot who…!”

“And you know what! I never eat outsidefood whatever be it the temptation, even during such long walks. Now I’ll gohome and have food cooked by my dear wife! There’s a puja in our street almostopposite to our home and they offer mouth-watering items, even send thoseregularly home all the time. But I don’t take it at all! I only taste the khichdi as a holy offering. Nothingelse!” he beamed on me, his open lips displaying a neat pair of white teeth.

While I responded as quickly as ever with‘oh that’s another exemplary habit that keeps you forever young’, I wonderedwhy he should’ve lied on this seemingly harmless account. I’ve watched so manyoctogenarians freely moving and eating around on the streets, particularly duringthose festive binge occasions. And during such early afternoon hours all normalmortal beings feel hungry even as I too was aware of the hunger pangs risinginside me. I watched the octogenarian rise from his chair, give me anotherheart-warming smile and a fond goodbye. I stood up, shook his hands softly butwarmly, and saw him off fondly on his homeward journey.

I was certain about one interestingdetail. When he just occupied the chair and started his excited conversationturning sideways to me, the smell…no… the fragrance of a fish fry hit mynormally very reluctant nostrils. So, I was very sure about it. There was noeating joint nearby at that point of time involved in that activity that usuallystarted toward the evening. I kept on wondering: why should he lie? Absolutely noharm taking a fresh and hot fish fry, it’s not at all like the guilty-feeling inadvertentdrinker or the habituated alcoholic who’d try to avoid speaking to theirtotalitarian friends and family for some time! Perhaps he made an exceptiontoday and was feeling guilty about it or maybe he was strictly prohibited byhis family from taking outside food, and after making the mistake today heperhaps wanted to test his breath with others before daring to confront hiswife or son or daughter or daughter-in-law directly. Whatever that might be,the old great guy impressed my immensely. I smiled to myself in genuine contentment.Hope he doesn’t burp too much before taking the dish offered by his caring wife!

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The Durga Puja pandal was quiet in the morning hours, except for the occasional bursts of incantations from the priests, amplified by the mics. Suddenly, there was a commotion. Two street urchins, probably around 7-8 years of age, entered and marched ahead confidently and occupied two empty plastic chairs in the front row. Their tiny skinny bodies black as coal and clad in rags. Somehow, they were in possession of two toy pistols that they were firing continuously. The decent devotees at the adjacent chairs looked askance at them, horrified in some unnamed way. They immediately asked them to silence their pistols, and the kids gestured they wanted food. A senior organizer looked around annoyed, perhaps not finding the volunteers assigned with the duties of crowd control. Even as the firing continued unabated, a seemingly resourceful lady devotee consulted the priests on the altar and eventually managed to collect some particles of food--of sweets and fruits--that she gave away to the urchins. Although not apparently pacified, the kids took those and left the pandal, firing and chatting louder. However, all those in the pandal were back to their undisturbed devotion. 

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The Department of Posts has recently announced changes in its Inland Speed Post services and tariff, adding new features to move ahead with the changing times. The revised tariff will be effective from 1st October 2025. The tariff of Inland Speed Post was last revised in October 2012. Under the rationally revised tariff structure the new rates are not substantially but only marginally higher, taking into account the host of safe, fast and smarter new features added. Additionally, to enhance accessibility of Speed Post services for students, a 10% discount on Speed Post tariff has been introduced.  Besides, a special discount of 5% discount has been introduced for new bulk customers. 

In order to further strengthen its position as the preferred delivery service in the country, it has now been upgraded with the following new features aimed at enhancing reliability, security, and customer convenience:

● OTP-based secure delivery

● Online payment facility

● SMS-based delivery notifications

● Convenient online booking services

● Real-time delivery updates

● Registration facility for users

Registration is available as a value-added service under speed post for both documents and parcels; customers can have addressee-specific secured delivery specifically designed to bring trust and speed together.

The Department of Posts introduced Speed Post on 1st August 1986 to provide fast and reliable delivery of letters and parcels across the country. Launched as part of India Post’s modernization efforts, the service was designed to ensure time-bound, efficient, and secure mail delivery. Over the years, Speed Post has emerged as one of the most popular and trusted mail services in India, standing strong against private courier companies.

Since its inception, Speed Post has continued to evolve to meet changing customer needs.

The initiatives are part of India Post’s ongoing journey of evolving into a more secure, transparent, and technology-enabled service provider. By introducing sustainable innovations and trust-enhancing features, Speed Post continues to adapt to the changing needs of customers while reaffirming its position as the nation’s most reliable and affordable delivery partner.    

Courtesy: ADPSR, Maharashtra Postal Circle, Mumbai.        

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The fair bright-faced boy withcurly black hair, the sweet smile that never ceases to linger on his face andhis eyes, his carefree ways and a great sense of humour, his brutal honesty andequally brutally outspoken, and yet the simplicity of his magnetic personality isoverwhelming. These are the images that come to my mind whenever I think of himor his songs; even more now when his sudden untimely tragic accidental demisehas shattered millions and millions across Assam, across India and across theworld. These images are of the late 90s and early 2000s (unfortunately, I don’thave personal photographs as personal cameras or mobiles were conspicuouslyabsent those days.). He is Zubeen Garg. He has been  a living legend of Assam, second only toBhupen Hazarika, till destiny took him away just when the people of Assam havestarted celebrating the birth centenary of Sudhakantha Bhupen Hazarika. Zubeen, possibly the greatest singer-artiste ever produced inAssam, in terms of his mind-blowing following—covering/influencing/entertainingalmost all of Gen X, Gen Y or the Millennials, Gen Z and even the Gen Alpha. Andthis is not just for his singing, but more for his sterling qualities that makehim a dear friend of all the classes of Assam.

The crowds paying theirlast tributes all over Assam have been unprecedented with millions of themrefusing to leave the streets or the grounds where his mortal remains are keptor awaited earlier for public darshan.Chief Minister of Assam, Himanta Biswa Sarma, initially announced a three-daystate morning from 20-22nd September, 2025, but had to extend it to23rd bowing to the incredible surge of admirers. The state funeralthus is going to be held tomorrow, the 23rd September, in theoutskirts of the city of Guwahati—a decision made on the request of Zubeen’sdevastated wife Garima Saikia Garg and his family while there have been demandsfor being given the same honour from other cities.  His millions of devout admirers are also veryangry because of some element of suspicion over his accidental death inSingapore on 19th September, 2025, and amid mourning their heartsare crying out for the truth and the action that has to follow.

After the huge successesof his first few albums of Assamese songs, folk mixed with modern music for thefirst time, he landed in Mumbai around 1995 trying to find a place inBollywood. We too came to know him that time. There was a relative’s son whowas an inseparable childhood friend from the Jorhat years of Zubeen, GautamChakravarty, and who came to Mumbai for a course in sound recording, andthrough him we came to acquaint ourselves personally with Zubeen. He broughtZubeen once to our home in Mumbai for lunch and then onward we continued tomeet him in the studios and in the functions organized by the AssameseAssociation, Mumbai during various festivals where he sang invariably. The boywith the golden voice soon found a footing in Bollywood music and startedplayback singing in various movies.

His song Ya Ali for the movie Gangster (2006) made him very famousearning him a nomination in the Filmfare Awards-2007. Thanks to his commitmentto his home state and his own people, he couldn’t fully concentrate onBollywood, and therefore, apart from the occasional Hindi and Bangla film songshe worked mostly for Assam—composing-writing-singing for albums and Assamese films,as music director for many of these films and also acting in a few of them, notto speak of his immensely popular performances on the Bihu stages all over thestate. Very soon Zubeen had set up his own recording studios in Mumbai andGuwahati. As is natural for a legendary singer, awards and nominations keptcoming his way. He won his first National Award in 2005, Rajat Kamal for BestMusic Director from Assam for the movie Dinabandhu ,and in 2007 he received another National Award for Best Music from the thenPresident of India, Pratibha Patil, for the non-fiction film Echoes of Silence .

I rue the fact that forthe last decade or so we haven’t had any personal contact with him; however, wealways got the news about him, heard from his friends known to us and from thegrapevine. Like most of superstars and legends, controversies surrounded himall the years—usually for his unconventional straightforward ways and words,and his outbursts in public places and on the music stages. Perhaps a familytragedy affected him beyond repair. His younger sister, Jonkey Borthakur, whohad been emerging as a singer as well as a movie actor died in a road accidentin Assam in 2002, at the tender age of 18. The trauma of losing a sibling isalways unbearable—the trauma often leaving an inerasable impact on the other siblings,particularly the elder ones. Zubeen tried his best to relieve his traumathrough music—releasing an album in her name, but perhaps the pain never lefthim, making him unpredictable, given to intoxication and created health issues inthe recent years.

Zubeen Garg was totallyapolitical—raising his voice against anything he found wrong with any politicalparty or ruling parties. He wholeheartedly participated in the anti-CAAmovement in Assam during 2021-22, apart from other protests where he took tothe streets with his music. He is also known for his charity, never disappointinganybody in need. It’s said by his fans that nobody ever left his house in Assamempty handed. He also participated in setting up a supermarket where productswere directly procured from the farmers and villagers.

Zubeen Garg was born andnamed after the legend Zubin Mehta to parents Mohini Mohan Borthakur and IlyBorthakur—his father a poet and lyricist apart from his civil service careerand his mother also a singer who became Zubeen’s first guru. He changed hisfamily surname ‘Borthakur’ to his gotra‘Garg', perhaps to assume an Indian identity.  His father, around 85 years of age now, surviveshim along with another younger sister and Garima Garg. Today, we join theprayers of his family, friends and the millions of his admirers. May God blesshis noble soul and rest him in eternal bliss. And his music is going to flow onunabated…more than 38 thousand songs in more than 40 languages and dialects keepingus tuned for ages to come. Salute the great artiste!

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I seem to enjoy a special relationship with the trains of the IndianRailways, for most of my train journeys always yield a memorable result—attimes very amusing and at times dearly painful. Over the decades I must’vespent quite a few sleepless nights on various railway station platforms thanksto the delayed schedules or freak/serious mishaps on various tracks or mymissing a train or the connecting trains, not to mention other sleepless nightsI spent on board looking to get a reservation on the way that never came my way!I meet various interesting people on most of the journeys that make my journeysdelightful or rather irritating depending on their quality, and mostimportantly most of those precious guys end up becoming my characters in myshort or mini stories (most of which you can find in my various published collectionsof short stories. A few remain here too!)! Now, I invite you on board a trainfor a brief journey I undertook recently which actually doesn’t qualify for amemorable one by any of its revealed elements, but it does have an interestingangle that is somewhat unique to my varied experiences.As I mentioned thejourney that started around noontime and was to reach the destination earlynext morning was in no way extraordinary and it didn’t present my wife and Iwith any difficulty or bad company as we got our good confirmed seats in thesame compartment and except for a government officer who was shifting to a newposting there was no other people there for quite some time. And yes, theofficer was very nice and immensely companionable. Obviously he had considerableluggage, but he adjusted efficiently not to inconvenience us.  

We spent severalenjoyable hours together having our teas and the delicious meals offered by theIndian Railways pantry cars on some of its frontline express trains. Afterlunch the officer retired to his upper berth and accordingly as there was noother seating passenger my wife spread the bedsheets on her lower berth to havegood afternoon nap. I occupied the other lower berth opposite to hers and I wasspending the time looking out of the glass window—a pleasure I often indulge inwhenever the opportunity presented itself.

Maybe by early evening Idozed off, for a commotion jerked me out of my drowsiness. It was not actuallya commotion, the train only halted at a station and a new passenger wasboarding. He was a young man of maybe twenty-something age and medium height,however, his small head housing the face was almost invisible amid theunnaturally huge bulk his body carried downward. He’s extremely overweight, Ipondered, but it looks abnormal and there must be a clinical reason for hisliterally bloated fat-laden physique. It reminded me of the Sholay-famed veteran actor Amjad Khanwho suffered from a disease of unnatural fat and eventually succumbed to it athis prime.

I was immediatelyresponsive to the young man and sat up on the berth creating enough space forhim to sit down. He thanked me, and asked his attendant to put his backpack onthe berth above me. Then he prepared to ascend the upper berth, perhaps hewanted some rest.

The process was extremelypainful to behold. The young man was unable to find the right foothold toascend even as the attendant tried his best, and obviously he was not ableenough to possibly lift the immense torso up. The officer at the opposite berthwoke up in the meantime and noticed the mechanics of the ascent. He advised theyoung man to come in-between the berths and use his arms to push himself upresting his feet at the edge of my wife’s lower berth. I watched on even as theyoung man finally succeeded in lifting his body up flexing his both arms, andthen suddenly I got very scared.

The stainless steelchains creaked at both the joints holding the upper berth as he slowly pushedhimself up, and sitting down at the lower berth I watched in horror. The upperberth visibly curved downward and moaned like the hoofs of the oxen undertremendous pressure as the young man was finally able to place himself on it. Ishot a quick glance at the officer who too was looking up and down concerned atthe proceedings, trying to disguise my terror with an amused grin.Involuntarily, I started sliding to the inner fibre wall of my berth tilting upmy knees so that should the upper berth crash down it’d catch my legs first ratherthan the precious head.

However, I was sure theRailways would never allow that kind of a freak accident and all the upperberths must’ve been firmly and powerfully chained up testing all kinds ofweights on them beforehand. And lo! I was safe, nothing untoward happened!

But we are all ordinarymortals and the scares would never really disappear permanently. Therefore, theberth-crashing scares came back two more times that night: by late evening whenthe young man went for a leak break and ascended; and then ascended for thethird time after having a late dinner at some other passenger’s seat perhaps. Iheld to my defending leg-positions on both the occasions, and thanks to theRailways nothing untoward happened. We also took up a conversation with theyoung man inquiring after his well-being and if he’d taken dinner or not.

During our dinner timewhen the young man was not there the officer confided to me in a hushed tone,“Good God! I was really worried the berth was going to crash down!” I gave hima reassuring smile.  

I had good night’ssleep despite the huge weight rolling and tossing around in the berth above,for the weight on my mind got considerably reduced by the display of the strengthof the Indian Railways!