“Baba ye lungi change kar lijiye aap, koi aa raha hai (Baba, please change this lungi, some visitors are coming)”, said my dad to my Dadaji. In response, Dadaji just laughed and commented “Arre ismein kya dikkat hai?(What’s the problem in this?)”

I vaguely remember this conversation from my childhood when we had gone to visit my grandparents at Katihar. Now my father is not a fan of everything English or British, so he was not asking Dadaji to change to shirt-pant, but he was asking him to at least change to Kurta Dhoti. Of course, Dadaji was not comfortable with this request. He was quite happy with a shirt over his blue lungi. 

“Professor ko First-Class compartment se nikala Lungi ke karan”

Then smiling, he opened his cupboard and told us an incident which involved him as well as his beloved lungi. It was a paper cutting with the headline, “Professor ko First-Class compartment se nikala Lungi ke karan”

I couldn’t control my laughter as Dadaji went on to explain what had transpired. It must have been some time in the 1960s or 1970s and Dadaji, a Professor in Chemistry was returning after taking a practical exam in some other city. He was travelling by train in the First-Class compartment. As the train left the station, Dadaji changed into his lungi from Safari suit and lied down to take a quick nap. At the next stop, there was some commotion and he saw a politician entering the compartment accompanied by some of his followers.

“Arre lungi pehen kar kaun First-Class mein safar karta hai? "

Dadaji was told, “Hatiye, hatiye, Netaji baithenge yahan (Move out, our leader will sit here).” At first Dadaji politely told the group that he had a reservation and hence he will not be moving out. “Arre lungi pehen kar kaun First-Class mein safar karta hai? Ticket dikhaiye. (Who travels in First-Class wearing a lungi? Show us the ticket)”, said one supporter. 

Dadaji smiled at this statement and showed them the ticket. But they were still not convinced. Apart from showing loyalty to their leader, they were unable to digest the fact that a person in lungi could travel in First-Class. And that’s the reason they had chosen to select Dadaji’s seat. In their mind they were sure that this person would not have a valid ticket. 

“Kahin likha hai ki Lungi pehen kar yaatra nahin kar sakte? (Is it written somewhere that First-Class passengers can’t wear a lungi?)”, quipped Dadaji. The politician as well as his supporters were not pleased with the response. It almost came down to manhandling when the Ticket Collector (TC) intervened. The TC requested Dadaji to make way for the politician.

Quite surprisingly, in pre-internet and mobile days, the news reached to some of his students very quickly and in the next stop, there was a huge crowd which had gathered in his support. Some senior Railway officials had to come on the site and placate both the parties. The politician finally apologized to Dadaji. 

But Dadaji was still not happy with the treatment meted out to him. Few city journalists came to know about this, and the report was published in the newspaper, much to the embarrassment of the politician. As far as Dadaji was concerned, he was satisfied that now no one could question him on his attire.

Post narrating this story, he asked us, “Kya bolte ho? (What do you have to say now?)” Naturally, no one had any answers. 

Today, as he celebrates his birthday up in the heavens, I am sure he is relaxing in his Lungi and shirt. And maybe, his grandkids can perform a lungi dance in his honor.