Earlier today I heard this inexplicable news about the loss of my friend Chittaranjan (Peter) Mohanty who passed away last Wednesday in London. Totally stunned, I still can't believe this shocking news which came down like bolt from the blue. It seems the cause was brain hemorrhage. He was in his late 50s, way too young to leave.
I came to know him on Facebook. Slowly our friendship grew. I found him as an honest, affectionate, down to earth person who intrigued me for he always had a story to tell. A self made man, he had a long journey before eventually settling in England. Both of us were alike in many ways. Apart from being independent minded we shared various common interests. Both were foodies. In fact he created and made me an Admin of an appropriately named Facebook group "Foodies" where we shared pictures of food items and recipes.
His life story was pretty interesting and adventurous, a rarity among Odias from that generation. He admitted of being a poor student. Early in his life academics hardly interested him and he never excelled in it. In 1983 he dropped out of college while doing graduation course in Commerce in Cuttack and left for Bombay (not Mumbai yet) in search for fortune.
It wasn't long before he struck fortune. After struggling initially living in shanty, shady Chawls, sleeping on squeaky charpoys under leaky roofs during Bombay's torrential monsoon, he hit the jackpot. Bombay proved to be his city of opportunity. He came into acquaintance with a diamond merchant who helped him to migrate to Tanzania, Africa and settle down in business. Chittaranjan Mohanty never looked back, expanding his own business in Africa.
He stayed in Tanzania for several years, travelling to various African countries on business. We shared our love for goat meat. I remember him telling me that he stayed in the sub Saharan nation Burkina Faso for few years doing rice business. Plenty of grass fed small size goats were available at throwaway prices, the best goat meat he had ever tasted in his life. His memory preserved the nostalgia of savoring goat meat on rainy evenings, quite common in equatorial climates.
Later on he migrated to England, took UK citizenship and settled down there. Like many immigrants who take an alias after migrating to West, Chittaranjan Mohanty used the alias "Peter" Mohanty. He married a Punjabi lady and has two sons.
I met him once in May, 2017 over lunch on a hot and humid afternoon in Bhubaneswar when our trips to motherland coincided. I found him a very mild mannered gentleman. We invited each other to visit our respective adopted nations of USA and UK, but it never materialized. It will never ever materialize as he passed away on last Wednesday January 26 due to brain. Something snapped inside me upon hearing this shocking news. He was too young to go. I hope Neeta Bhabi, his two sons and pet parrot Coco do well in life. May Peter Mohanty Sir Rest in Peace in heaven, where he rightly belongs.
