PTSD Diary: January 28

Dateline: January 28, 2015

Each dawn carries its own character—until yesterday it was one way, but today that changed. This morning was what you'd get if you mixed the past three dawns together. What was the body of this dawn like? If someone asked me which two Bengali films caused me the most anguish, I'd place 'Meghe Dhaka Tara' second. In that film Neeta witnessed a dawn, and through her eyes we too saw that same dawn differently, with melancholy eyes. Today's dawn held something of that quality. It takes immense courage to write about a dawn that begins with such a wondrous montage of sorrow. I don't have that courage right now. So I won't speak of this morning's dawn. Let it remain. Some sorrowful beauties are better left unspoken.
The auditorium at quarter past eight. The back rows of chairs filling toward the front. I sit looking around in all directions. From where I was seated, when the auditorium doors stayed open, you could see the side of the rose garden where the bright red roses bloomed. I walked to the door and stood there. The entire garden ahead was red with roses upon roses. The white rose garden was visible too. The thought that life would be meaningless if I couldn't lose myself there felt strangely wonderful. In my mind, Anindya Sundar's lines kept calling: dekha ek khwab to ye silsile hue... I imagined holding some beloved's hand, walking through the heart of that garden. Suddenly Srikanto began playing... it felt good, it felt good, though I couldn't say why... the morning's cold breeze became shivers awakening body and soul. Sir arrived. Two minutes late. I remembered when I used to hold meetings with my officers, I'd tell everyone the day before: "Tomorrow you'll come at exactly nine o'clock. The meeting will start at nine. When I enter the room, it will be nine o'clock. I promise I won't enter the room before nine." They understood what they needed to understand. Today seeing Sir, three things happened. First, I felt grateful to Sir for being two minutes late. Second, seeing Sir made the song from 'Silsila' play even more insistently in my head. From this I understood that there's no rhyme or reason to which song plays in your head upon seeing whom. Songs just play by themselves. Third, I realized that sometimes the company of a wise old man brings more joy than that of a foolish beautiful woman. Why I said that last bit could be explained, but I won't.
The next class yielded one achievement: a KISS—meaning Keep It Short & Simple. Sir gave us a long kiss (I mean, explained it to us). Remember how Tom Hanks goes on and on talking in 'Forrest Gump'? I'm sincerely giving a kiss to the Forrest Gumps of our batch.
In Harry Potter there are two amusing apophases about Lord Voldemort: "You-Know-Who" and "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," where he's called The Dark Lord. No, I'm not going in that direction. If we set aside the irony and take the simple You-Know-Who, and ask for five names of Bangladesh's most renowned doctors of our time, Prangopal Datta's name would definitely come up. Today he came. He taught two classes. He spoke about noise pollution and drug addiction. Taking a class from someone of his stature was itself an experience. Some of his words/references/thoughts I'm sharing in my own way:
# One slide had sound clips of various types of noise. It created an interesting feeling. Hearing different kinds of noise one after another doesn't feel too bad. All of them together create a mixed sensation in the brain. You might try listening.
# When husbands snore during sleep, wives get very annoyed. The funny thing is, if one night the husband stops snoring, the wife gives him a shake to see if her lord and master is still alive. Then she turns him to his side. The husband starts snoring again. This amused me greatly. Actually every woman wants her husband to change. The moment he starts changing, the wife becomes suspicious. If he changes completely, the wife no longer likes him.
# He had two sessions with a break in between. During the break, Rabindranath was playing... I listened intently... his sense, common sense, humor sense—the fusion of these three with professionalism was worth noting. (Being professional doesn't mean you have to abandon humor and become a boring fool!)
# Have you noticed that in the last ten years, smoking rates among men and women have become nearly equal? This isn't our fault, nor is it our women's fault. The UN and various international organizations want to bring gender equity. If there's equality in everything, why not in smoking?
# Yale University Press removed the pipe from Stalin's mouth in the new edition of one of their books. In a London museum, the cigar was removed from Churchill's photograph. This may have distorted history, but at least it kept some people away from cigarettes. People follow everything about great men. So that distortion was necessary. Walt Disney's condition was that his name couldn't be used in any movie that showed smoking scenes.
# I learned two interesting facts. King Edward VII's wife told him, "Either quit cigarettes or leave me." Edward replied, "How can that be? You and cigarettes—both are equally addictive to me. If I quit, I'd have to quit both!" Remember Roman Holiday? Heartthrob actress Audrey Hepburn smoked a pipe. That pipe was very long, so the tobacco wouldn't come close enough to her lips to blacken them. Hearing the last bit, I thought women are strange creatures indeed. They want to live beautifully, they want to die beautifully. Let poison take their life, but not their beauty.
(An interesting fact: Hepburn's favorite poem was the English version of Rabindranath Tagore's 'Ananta Prem'—'Unending Love.' After her death, Gregory Peck recited this poem and bid her a tearful farewell.)
Ami jeneshune bish korechi pan... the class ended with this song. The question-answer session began. This session was largely a free prescription period. He's a very busy ENT specialist. Getting his appointment is difficult enough. So today, seizing the opportunity, many took the advice they needed. Some would have gotten minor surgeries done if they could! Ha ha ha...
I noticed something today. He was showing the physical deformities caused by long-term tobacco use in some of his tobacco-using patients. Many of our smoking colleagues were hiding their faces in fear during that time. There used to be an ad for Teer flour-wheat-semolina on TV. A little boy laughingly said, "I can't live without 'Teer'..." Those who were cowering in fear, many of them smoke so much, it seems they're saying like that child: I can't live without cigarettes... My point is, the physical deformity that made you hide your face in fear—God forbid—you too could become a victim of that deformity. I honestly don't have any headache about this. You came to this beautiful world under your parents' responsibility, you want to leave it under your own responsibility. Very good. But why are you taking on my responsibility too? Why are you making me, who has never smoked a single cigarette in my life, smoke countless cigarettes? Why do you force me into passive smoking? Why are you pushing me into the same threat? Do I deserve it, Sir?
James Joyce's first novel was 'A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.' Today we saw A Portrait of the Doctor as a Gentleman. I've rarely seen anyone as smart as Dr. Prangopal Datta, especially at this age!
After class, we exited through the auditorium's two doors, converged at a reverse-Y junction, and emerged through the corridor like a line of ants. I ate lunch. In the afternoon I went to sports. When I got there, I saw some work was going on in the playing field, so there would be no sports. Today we had a holiday. Ah! The most beautiful sentence in the world: Today we had a holiday. I wandered around, came to my room and wrote for a while, had tea in the evening, then went to the multipurpose shop and did some shopping. There are two such shops inside PATC. They sell everything needed for bachelor life except girlfriends, from mobile recharge onwards. They also sell large-sized sweets. Right nearby are the post office and Sonali Bank. On the way there is an aquarium with various species of fish. No rohu or catla, but many fish I've never eaten in my life. They dart back and forth, playing freely. Their world allows them unhindered, undisturbed movement. Like a little ocean. A miniature of ocean-floor biodiversity! There's algae, plants, oxygen supply, and no shortage of food. Lights glow in the aquarium, and when you come close, some of them approach the glass and stare with big eyes. In their kingdom, I'm the alien. Without realizing it, I thought: how would goldfish fry taste with black salt and mint leaves?
I shouldn't stay here any longer. Staying here a bit more might inspire me to want to taste more fish. On my way back to the room, I went to the guava, wood apple, elephant apple, and amla grove. I walked alone for a while. The trees stood like Magh-month hermits in robes. That forest seemed like a forest of fallen leaves! Walking through, pushing aside the anklets of dry leaves, is one of the world's most joyful activities. Soon the forest's vigilant mosquito brigade chased me back to my room.
I'll end this writing with a story. Lord Tennyson has a poem called Idylls of the King. There's a stanza that goes like this:
I found Him in the shining of the stars,
I marked Him in the flowering of His fields,
But in His ways with men I find Him not.
I waged His wars, and now I pass and die.
O me!
for why is all around us here
As if some lesser god had made the world,
But had not force to shape it as he would,
Till the High God behold it from beyond,
And enter it, and make it beautiful?
Or else as if the world were wholly fair,
But that these eyes of men are dense and dim,
And have not power to see it as it is:
Perchance, because we see not to the close;—
For I, being simple, thought to work His will,
And have but stricken with the sword in vain;
And all whereon I leaned in wife and friend
Is traitor to my peace, and all my realm
Reels back into the beast, and is no more.
My God, thou hast forgotten me in my death;
Nay—God my Christ—I pass but shall not die.
Borrowing words from the sixth line of this poem, a movie was titled Children of a Lesser God in '86. The lead role was played by Oscar-winning actress Marlee Matlin, who was deaf and mute. For her extraordinary performance in this film, at just twenty-one years of age, she set the record for being the youngest winner in Academy Award history. She gives speeches at various events using sign language, inspiring people to do good work. Today, across the world, Marlee Matlin is the defiant voice of those who refuse to surrender in life's battles.
Professor Pran Gopal Datta had asked many learned people what "Children of a Lesser God" meant. No one could give him a satisfactory answer. Once, invited to Khulna University's convocation ceremony, he was traveling with Professor Kabir Chaudhury. When he asked Kabir Chaudhury in conversation about the meaning of those words, Kabir Chaudhury translated it into Bengali as "children of a stepfather god." Hearing this, he asked, "What did you just say? How can God be a stepfather?" Kabir Chaudhury laughed and said, "Look here, at eighty years of age, I'm being invited as the chief speaker to a university convocation and traveling by helicopter. My child will say, God is great—He has granted my father long life and this rare honor. But my younger brother Munir Chaudhury died young. Had he lived today, how much respect people would have shown him, how much more he could have given to the country. You tell me, what would his child say? Would his child call God just? How much gratitude would remain toward God? That's why to some people, sometimes, God becomes a stepfather too."
Looking at my own life, I thank God once more in Rajanikanta's words—"Though I am worthless and lowly, still/You have not given me any less!/Knowing I was unworthy of what You gave,/You never took any of it back!" (Karunamaya, Rajanikanta Sen)