Locomotoring

Baba slipped away quietly, his sannyasam concluded (link). His ashes were scattered by the family in river Hooghly, by the ghat, where he would come by for evening snack of tea and jhal-muri (link), Goddess Durga visarjans, and small boat rides (link). I imagine his spirit swimming alongside swarms of Hilsa (Ilish), his favorite fish that come up the Hooghly to breed between Vijay Dashami (end-Oct) and Saraswati puja (end-Jan).

In life, he was vibrant, and laughed easily (link). He had bearings of an educator – straight as an arrow and fond of rules. In his personal life, his needs were simple – aside from his fondness for all things fish (link), and diverse plant based Bengali food (link), I don’t recall him wanting much. In his professional life, he was more accomplished than most. He had grown up in post-partition Bengal, born to impoverished migrant parents who were driven away from their home and belongings in Bangladesh. When I was growing up, he was part of what is now known as National Center for Disease Control, India’s version of CDC, formerly known as National Institute of Communicable Diseases (1963), and founded as Central Malaria Bureau (1909). He eventually rose up the ranks to direct NICD for several years. I remember growing up with vocabulary of communicable diseases like malaria, HIV and plague. In retirement, he moved to Kolkata and to my mom’s surprise became busier than ever. The last two decades of his active life he provided pro-bono services – he provided physician services to villagers, founded a shelter for the elderly and helped establish a new pharmaceutical university. The rest of his family could hardly keep up with his enthusiasm for service to humankind.

I have missed him for a while and will continue to miss him, he was my north star.