RIP Dinabandhu Mausa

He was our neighbor in BJB Flats in Bhubaneswar, my hometown back home where my father was quartered from 1976 to 1991, and I spent the bulk of my childhood and early part of youth. He is Dinabandhu Rath Mausa, my father's friend and colleague who used to teach English in BJB College.

Just before my Plus 2 Higher Secondary Examination my dad requested Dinabandhu Mausa to guide me in English, especially the English poetry which I neglected. Earlier I had tried my hand in poetry, but miserably failed in it, athough I was a voracious reader of English prose, literature, books and sundry magazines. Not that I was disinterested in English, but I focused more on Math and Science subjects so that I could get into IIT or REC, the two most sought after Institutions those days to get into for graduate studies. Qualifying for these institutions attempted by 99.99% undergrads those days was a matter of prestige. If you failed to crack IIT or REC JEE (Joint Engineering Entrance) after successive attempts, you were considered a PENA (Nincompoop) or DHAIN (an Odia word for Asthmatic person gasping for breath, often used as a slang to denote an useless, good for nothing guy). 

I certainly had no intention of ending up as a PENA or DHAIN, yet I went to Dinababdhu Mausa's home not to dissapoint my father. It paid its dividends. Mausa taught me that English poetry is not read, rather it has to be felt, along with few tricks of writing and I grasped it like sponge to water. Under his tutelage, I could understand the depth of the poems of my favorite duo John Keats and Percy Bysshe Shelly, especially Shelly the eccentric genius who died from a freak drowning accident in the sea, his poem "Ozymandias" is arguably one of the best I read. I also started liking the works of John Donne, Wordsworth, Elliot, Frost and was surprised to find a poet in Shakespeare.

Dinababdhu Mausa gave me assignments to write critical appreciation of poems. I found my writing very ordinary and expected a bad feedback from him, afraid to ask him. One fine evening my father came home - "Just spoke to Dinababdhu Babu. He told me, your son has a flair for writing in English and better suited for humanity stream. He needs no direction and good to go as far as scoring good marks in English subjects in his Higher Secondary Examination go".

My mother was an expert cook. Dinababdhu Mausa loved the Puri style cooked "MACHHA BESARA" (scrambled fish) prepared by my mom. Mausa got married in the summer of 1986. He threw a big reception at the OTDC Pantha Nivas, a stone's throw from BJB Flats where we used to live. I remember me savoring several helpings of "Quality" brand Ice Cream - a luxury those days. While studying Engineering in REC (now NIT) Rourkela, I used to come home during the Holidays and often met Dinabandhu Mausa, our neighbor. He always motivated me - "Hope you are still writing. You have a knack for story telling. Don't lose your flair in writing. Keep it up".

We left BJB Flats in 1991 and shifted to our own house constructed by my father. In 1998 I visited Mausa to invite him for my marriage. His long hairs had long gone (we used to call him Shakespeare Sir for his long, flowing hair which made him resemble the legendary English playwright). Then I lost contacts with him until I reestablished contact a few years ago on Facebook. He asked me to find a suitable girl for his son Rutwik who is in USA. I replied - "Mausa, your son is good looking and qualified. It shouldn't be difficult for him to find a life partner. These days young men and women prefer to look for partner by themselves". Mausa said - "You are so correct. I wish he finds someone soon. The boy is getting old". It was so sad to see a gentleman leave this world too soon. May God give strength to his children Rutwik and Olivia to overcome the grief. Om 🕉 Shanti.