Among the Not So Great

Sunil-Da

(A Snowy High Kanchenjunga)

“Saints and poets are hills touched with the dawn whilst the valley is in darkness.”

Austin O’Malley

I may add to the above saints and poets a third category, that of musicians and composers — for Sunil-da was both, with a good bit of “saint” thrown in.

Here is a great man, in the true sense of the word, whom I reluctantly bring under the heading of “Not so Great”. He for one, I am sure, would just have smiled and not let it ruffle the quiet deep waters of his greatness. He was one of the most self-effacing men one comes across.

With that assurance backing me, I would start this, an eulogy of the great man who wouldn’t be “so great”.

Jhumur has already written about him in Mother India (June 1998). She being his niece had a close view of him, yet I would pen my views, also close, with often a clash (physical — in football). In my opinion he was a genius and what is my opinion worth — for the Mother herself said of Sunil-da: “He is a genius.”

Sunil-da was born in Krishnanagar, Bengal, on the 3 of November 1920. Father a doctor (Homoeopath), mother, Anil the elder brother, Minnie the elder sister and Sunil formed a close and well-knit family. The father loved young Sunil and Sunil was very attached to the father. As a boy, he did what boys did — played, studied, fought with sister (only 15 months older, so did not deserve his respect). He was a bit short tempered — would shy anything handy if roused. He must have tamed this temper in later years, for I have never heard him raise his voice in anger — except once — in all the 50 years I have known him. I can’t even recollect his showing any signs of impatience. What stood him out from the other boys was that he showed glimpses of his future brilliance even in those early years. Whatever he took up, he did better than most. Maths was already his forte. He even picked up a knowledge of horoscope reading (don’t know from where or from whom). Chess came naturally to him (he excelled in it). He acquired a working knowledge of Homeopathy (like Eklavya — guru being his father). He would go to the slum area behind the house, diagnose, prescribe and administer — all free. He earned the honorary title of “choto Dactar”. His father did keep a close watch, and checked on him (called him ‘master’).

The family later shifted to Calcutta and Sunil-da got admission into the prestigious St. Xavier’s College. He shone out there too, took honours in chemistry, played some football and learned to play the sitar from Ardhenduda’s brother who himself was a student of one of the Ustads (may be Mustaq Ali Khan).

Ardhenduda was Sunil-da’s cousin, much older than him. He too was quite a genius — a good musician and also a good chemist. He came to the Ashram in the early 40s, lived on the 1st floor of our old Dental Clinic. He led a very retired or secluded sort of life. Rarely did he participate or attend any function. Only once did I hear him play on the surbahar. He did consent to teach one or two students for a short period. He had great wit and humour — that is when and if he talked. All his genius and talents were well corked and hidden. The last few years of his life — he was overwhelmed by a horde of cats.

Cats remind me of Sunil-da’s cats. He was not overwhelmed, but did, I suspect, reserve a soft corner of his heart for at least two of them — Tutu and her son Bañtul. I recount all this and digress, for Tutu was no ordinary cat, and she and Ardhenduda were close enough to Sunil-da. To make our aquaintances with them is quite worth the while.

Tutu was picked up as a tiny kitten near the Samadhi. She was brought to Sunil-da’s house. She grew up to be “the lady” of not only their house but the whole block — Playground and the Mother’s Room included. She came and went as and when and where it pleased her. She would come walking regally and lie in the middle of the Playground just as the daily March Past was about to start. In those days all the groups (A to H) took part everyday, as the Mother stood in front of the map of India. Tutu stretched her legs and lay relaxed. The files of hundreds of us had to make a detour of her. She was unperturbed, not an inch did she give. Sometimes she would take her cat-nap on the Mother’s sofa (in the Room). The Mother would not have anyone disturb Tutu. If there is a “Feline-Divine-world” Tutu must have come down from there — what for, is hard to guess! Bañtul took no such liberties — he was more like an ordinary cat. Now back to Sunil-da.

Sunil-da took honours in chemistry. This information is quite irrelevant, for he could have shone in any subject he chose to and also in the sports he took up, and of course in the music he composed (that poured out through him).

Sunil-da was of a solid and proportionate build, with enough weight and strength to make his presence felt — especially in the play field. He could build up enough speed for added effect. He was of good height, and a neat figure, but for a slight hunching of the shoulders. A well shaped head sat atop the shoulders, fronted by a handsome face with healthy cheeks, cheerful large eyes that shone and smiled along with the generous mouth. A faint trace of the smile never left the eyes and lips. On the whole he impressed us as a man in a state of solid calm of body and mind and deeper within.

Sunil-da came to the Ashram for a short visit and went back. That was in 1940 or 41. He had no plans to settle down here. He was still studying. He came back with the family (elder brother Anilda and family, elder sister and her daughter and mother) in 1942. He would probably have gone back to continue his scholastic life. An idea that he could go in for the I.C.S. was also mooted. Applications were made which reached 3 days too late. He could have tried for the next year. It was discovered, he would be over age. He was painted into a corner — so — no I.C.S. Some subtle forces seemed to scuttle his plans (they, the forces, may not have been much evident then, but now, seen from a greater distance in time and the perspective of later events, they seem almost obvious). Then events got so arranged that Sunil-da and Gauridi got married. The Mother said that they both could stay in the Ashram. I suspect this, that both should be able to stay here, was althrough what the Mother wanted. Thus was the drama made to happen. The gods moved the human pawns.

Came December 1943 and our School was opened. Sunil-da was one of the first teachers. Through the years that he taught, we never felt that he was teaching. He soaked us, we either imbibed or we didn’t. Sunil-da had an unique system of keeping a tag on us. (This was in the lower classes only.) It helped us to mark ourselves and it had an element of competitive fun and game. The system was much like “Snakes and Ladders”, with the healthy difference that the ladders were dominant and could be long or short, whereas the snakes were of just one square or one step downward. The system worked thus: the students sat in an order 1,2,3... No. 2 may be asked a question. He answers correctly — all is status quo. If he fails, the next i.e. No. 3 has to try. If he succeeds he goes up to No. 2 and No. 2 steps down to No. 3. Supposing now 3,4,5 fail and No. 6 succeeds. Then No. 6 climbs up to No. 2 and all the others i.e. 2, 3, 4 & 5 slide down one step each (only the last No. could afford to be complacent — if he chose to be). I don’t know if any other teacher imitated this system.

Sunil-da taught many subjects. He taught Mathematics, Botany, Zoology, Geology, Geography, Astronomy and last, for some of us — Football. I dare say, he could have taken some music classes — IF one had the ear and inclination and IF he himself was willing. He did teach 3-4 youngsters, but no classes as far as I know (quite intriguing, considering the fact he was a great musician and a great teacher). It seemed he had all the subjects at his fingertips. He hardly needed a textbook, and that made his classes all the more interesting. Keeping the textbook in the background we could meander away, in and out of the subject. Long before the School’s lab was, we had botany practicals at his residence, where we sliced cross sections and peered at the inner workings of flowers through a microscope (incidentally that was the first microscope we had ever seen). Under his guidance we even charted the heavens. To do so, we devised an apparatus.

A large piece of glass was held on two heavy stands by adjustable clamps. The glass was held parallel to the constellation to be mapped. Lying behind or below the glass, we put an ink spot on it, in line with the eye and the wanted star. We got fairly good results! It was also Sunil-da’s idea and backing that got us to build a big Sundial in the school. It stood on the (present) lawn, a few metres to the South-East of the stage. Come to think of it, it was a nice monument (in more than one meaning of the word) and also could have been educative. It had a beauty and an imposing presence of its own. Without shedding too many tears over “spilt milk”, I wish it were still there today (some blame me for not opposing its demolition when renovations were in the offing).