The Bordolois

It was my second visit to Delhi. This time I was a little more confident with a pre-booked accommodation at Assam Bhawan. It was newly built, the pantry was yet to start. For lunch and dinner all occupants had to come down to Assam House at Kautilya Marg, and normally used to have fish curries. Once I fell sick and overhearing my tele-conversation with my then employer Mr Kanak Sen Deka, Dr Ram Dutta Bujarbaruah (then Superintendent of Mahendra Mohan Hospital, Guwahati), prescribed me some medicines and asked me not to have fish at least for a couple of days.

My return train ticket was not confirmed. I got a broker at Assam Bhawan itself, and he gave me a ticket. And when I boarded the train, then only I came to know that my ticket is waitlisted, and to my horror I learnt that the ticket was in the name of some teenage girl. I had no seat to sit. No berth to sleep. Without a seat the pantry refused to give me the food although that was not a problem for me.

Dr T.C. Bordoloi of Madhyam Khand, Uttar Guwahati was recently been transferred to Delhi. Mrs Bordoli, their son Dudul (Debajit) and elder daughter Junu (Jayashree) was also traveling by the same coach to Guwahati. The coach I boarded was a Guwahati coach. But in spite of having maximum Assamese passengers in that coach I could not manage to get a place to seat. It became unbearable for the Bordolois and Mrs Bordoloi offered me share the berth with her son. I was overwhelmed. Perhaps the year was 1986.

And that was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

My next visit to Delhi was immediately after two months. When the Borodolois learnt that I was staying at the Assam Bhawan, they almost forcibly made me vacate the room and shift to their house. Thereafter whenever I came to Delhi, mostly I used to stay with them.

Once Bordoloi Baideo and Dudul were in Guwahati, and they were staying at my place. Since mine was a single room accommodation, I shifted to the next room with Mr Sen. Early next morning a cousin of mine came from Bokakhat and knocked at my door. Baideo opened the door and saw an unseen face. My cousin too was surprised not to see me. And they introduced each other, "I am Firoz's brother" and "I am Firoz's sister".

A couple of years later I too sifted to Delhi, and then the Lal Quilla bus incident happened. Baideo is very kind hearted, in fact all of them are very kind hearted. Even when I was drafting this write-up, I just called Baideo, and she immediately responsed although I was dialing her number after more than four years. With Dudul, whom I was calling for the first time on his mobile, I just had to give him a clue, "I am the one with whom you once shared your berth". They remember me that well, and I too remember them very well.

When Jolly (Deepanjali), the youngest Bordoloi went for an interview in a Delhi school, the first question they asked her was, "You name is Deepanjali, what is Geetanjali?". Even Bhindeo (Dr Bordoloi) was shocked and thought how did the school authorities knew his other daughter's name though it was not Geetanjali. But smart Jolly got the question alright, and she answered it correctly.

Dudul works in Gurgaon and the father of a one-year-old daughter Dimpy. Junu works in Air Tel, and lives with her husband in Dwarka. Bhindeo, now retired, enjoys the time with granddaughter.

My first brush with Delhi

I am fifteen years old in Delhi. For a long time I was toying with the idea of writing something about Delhi and the way I have seen it, the way I have experienced it. In fact, I once written a couple of pages but I never had the time to edit it. Utpal, my friend, asked me several times to continue writing, but I never did that.

Recently I got a mail from Vicki, asking me to be the administrator of the Delhi – My City blog, and that gave me the idea to write about Delhi. But the question is what to write about Delhi? It is so vast that it is almost impossible for me to write all about it. I may not have all the information that might require completing the blog. The information might be wrong. So I thought why not write about Delhi the way I have seen it and experienced it!

My experience of Delhi is mixed. Some are very good, some are not so good and some are very painful, painful enough for me to try to forget it although I know it very well that painful memories can never be wiped out from the memory.

In the mid-eighties when I first came to Delhi, and was staying at Assam Bhawan in Chanakyapuri, I was to meet a gentleman. I had his name and address but the address was incomplete. Anyway, in search of that gentleman I reached Tilak Nagar and looked for him. The address had the house number but not the street (gali) number, and whoever wanted to help me asked for the gali. Finally someone said that there was a Sardar who also belongs to the media and he might be able to help me. The Sardar turned up to be a newspaper vendor, but even in the month of May when everyone wants to stay inside because of the heat outside, the Sardar came out with me and searched for that gentleman for two hours. I will never forget that Sardar gentleman.

Two months later in my next visit to Delhi, again I was staying at Assam Bhawan. This time one evening I went for dinner at Dr T.C. Bordoloi’s house at Pragati Vihar Hostel. While returning I mistakenly took the bus of the opposite direction, and reached Palam Village. It was around 10-30 in the night. There was no other bus to take me back. The night service is to start at 12 O’ clock in the midnight. Knowing my plight the bus conductor shows his sympathy. He also offered me a cup of tea. But when he came to know that I am from Assam, he was very enthusiastic to talk to me. He was deputed to Tezpur of Assam as a polling officer during the 1983 election. It was the bus conductor who sent me back to Assam Bhawan in a bus which was returning to its depot after finishing its duty. Years later I spoke about the incident to my editor in The Sentinel, and the unnamed bus conductor got a mention in his editorial. I will never forget that bus conductor.

Talking about the bus conductor, there was one more bus conductor that I bumped into. It was December 1995 when I landed in Delhi with bag and baggage. I was looking for a decent apartment and till I get one, I was staying at a Paharganj hotel. In one of those days I decided to pay a visit to Ashish Da (Chakraborty) in Faridabad. But Ashish Da was out of station. While returning I thought about meeting the Bordolois again. They were still at Pragat Vihar Hostel. Since I could not get any bus from Faridabad to near to Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium, I decided to change the bus at Ashram chowk. People at Ashram chowk asked me to go either Mulchand or Lajpat from where I could easily get a bus to Nehru Stadium. I have heard of Lala Lajpat Rai, but who is this Mr Mulchand? Not to take a risk I asked a bus coming from the direction of Faridabad, “Does it goes to Nehru Stadium?” The bus conductor asked me where actually I want to go. When I told him that I have to go to Nehru Stadium, he asked me to get in and said that his bus is going to Lal Quilla and from there I shall get plenty of buses to Nehru Stadium. Needless to say that only after crossing I.T.O. co-passengers corrected my mistake and scolded the bus conductor. I will never forget this bus conductor too.

All five fingers are not equal. So are all the people. I have met people some of whom I will never be able to forget, like the newspaper vendor of Uttam Nagar, the Bus Conductor of Palam Village, the Rizwan family, Esha Guha, Potla Da, Monojit Lahiri, Ruchi Ratna and of course the Bordoloi family (I shall tell later about my relationship with the Bordolois). And I too shall never be able to forget the Bus Conductor who took me to Lal Quilla, and many others whom I do not want name here.

I might edit it later, just to add something that I am not being able to recollect now.