Full Circle

By Sayan Sarkar

“Dadababu[1], another tutor has come to meet you.”

Pralay looked up from the Sunday Times with an exasperated expression on his face.

“It’s not even 8 in the morning!” He grumbled.

Then, looking at Putiram – their household help who had brought the news to him – he said in a domineering voice, “Bring him in and take him into the living room. I’ll be down shortly.”

“Okay, Dadababu,” Putiram nodded respectfully and turned to leave.

“Oh, Putiram, one more thing,” Pralay called him back. “Ask if he’ll have some tea and snacks.”

With another nod of his head, Putiram left silently with his orders.

One week earlier, Pralay Samaddar had circulated an advertisement in many of the well-known English and Bengali newspapers in Kolkata. Part of the ad, in English, ran as follows:

Wanted: Private Tutor for Mathematics

A knowledgeable tutor is needed for the purpose of teaching basic and advanced concepts of mathematics to a class 5 ICSE student. Candidates with prior teaching experience are preferred. Classes will have to be taken twice a week, three hours per class. Salary’s negotiable and not a constraint if a suitable candidate is found. Interested people can come to the address given below with proper documents and a cut-out of this advertisement on the following weekend after 8am.

The tutor, of course, was for Pralay’s son, Rana.

Although Pralay himself had been teaching maths to his son till then, it had started becoming more difficult of late with his increased work pressure. After consulting with his wife Soumi, he had resolved to circulate this ad in the papers.

The advertisement had appeared in the papers on Thursday, and throughout the next weekend, his house was frequented by no less than a dozen interested candidates.

Pralay – who was very fastidious about all his endeavours – went through each application meticulously, looked at every degree certificate with care, and interacted with all the candidates thoroughly. He even had his son interact with the candidates to get a sense of the teacher-student chemistry.

And yet, twelve candidates and 48 hours later, he still wasn’t able to select a suitable tutor. They all lacked one thing or the other. While most of them had admirable qualifications, some asked for too much money, some appeared too casual, some wanted to reduce the tuition hours, and some barely knew how to interact with a class 5 student one-to-one.

He had informed all the candidates that he would contact the selected person within a week or so, but even after seven days, he was as indecisive as before.

So naturally, when he was informed by Putiram that another candidate had appeared to try his luck, two distinct thoughts ran through his mind. First, that it was one week too late, and second, that it was before the prescribed time.

Putting down the unfinished newspaper on the sofa, Pralay slowly made his way downstairs with an air of dissatisfaction as the clock struck eight that morning.

He found a middle-aged man dressed in a white kurta and white pyjamas sitting rigidly in one corner of the living room sofa. His hair – completely white – was parted neatly down the middle, and he had a tired look on his face. A worn-out sling bag lay across his lap, and a crumpled newspaper cutout stuck out of his left hand. A cup of hot tea and a couple of Marie biscuits were placed on the centre table in front of the man, but he had not touched them yet.

As the man became aware of his presence, he stood up curtly and with folded hands wished him a polite good morning with a mixture of apology and eagerness in his tone.

Upon coming face to face with the visitor, a strange sensation swept over Pralay. It felt like he was in the presence of someone he had already known for a long time – someone reliable, amicable, and very close to his heart. However, he couldn’t quite recognise the person who stood with patient anticipation just an arm’s length away from him.

Perplexed at this strange emotion that was stirring in his heart, Pralay returned the man’s greeting almost mechanically, motioned him to sit, and threw a questioning glance in his direction.

“Pralay babu,” the man spoke softly. His voice was anxious, but controlled. “I am Nirendranath Ghosal.”

The name, although not known to Pralay, struck a few subconscious chords in his distant memory. But he still couldn’t figure out the person’s identity.

“I apologise for disturbing you so early in the morning,” Nirendranath continued.

“I don’t read the newspaper every day, so I missed your advertisement initially. But last evening, I was drinking tea in a shop near my locality and found a week-old Bengali paper with the ad page lying face up on the table. That’s when I got to know about your requirement.”

Nirendranath momentarily stopped and hesitated for a moment before speaking again.
“I know I’m a week too late. But…umm…is the job still available?”

Pralay had been studying his guest intensely throughout his speech, and silently nodded his head in answer to his final question.

A wave of relief washed over Nirendranath’s face, and he heaved a sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” he uttered softly, and putting his hand inside his sling bag, took out a bunch of documents. Arranging them in order, he passed them onto the outstretched arm of his host.

Pralay went over each document carefully, forming a mental picture of the career progression of his guest. Nirendranath had gotten slightly above-average marks in his 10^th and 12^th class examinations. He had done a B. Ed and had been associated with three schools in the last three decades. He was, however, jobless at present. His last school had terminated his contract a few months ago. His profile was average and far behind some of the candidates who had already applied for the position. 

And yet, for some reason unknown even to himself, Pralay didn’t give up hope yet.

“Why did your school terminate your contract, Niren babu?” He found himself saying.

“Well,” Nirendranath spoke softly. “My father was suffering quite a lot for the last couple of months, so I had to take a lot of leave to take him to and from the hospital. But towards the end, the school found it inexcusable and let me go.”

“I-I’m sorry to hear that,” Pralay said in a compassionate tone.

“Yeah,” Nirendranath smiled wryly. “But unfortunately, he passed away shortly after.”

“I don’t really have a family,” he continued. “So, whatever money I had saved till this point would’ve been enough to see me through this life. But my father’s illness cost a lot, and I need a job, no matter how little the pay, to live out the rest of my days respectfully.”

The room remained silent for quite some time, and Pralay couldn’t find the right words to console his guest. The silence was finally broken when Rana suddenly entered the room with a broad smile on his face.

“Hello, kaku,” He greeted Nirendranath warmly. “Are you going to be my new teacher?”

 Rana’s arrival felt like a gust of fresh breeze, and both the occupants of the room took the opportunity to lighten the mood.

“Hello, chotobabu[2],” Nirendranath greeted Rana with the same energy. “Would you like to learn some maths from me?”

“Can you teach me simplification?” Rana asked curiously. “I have a lot of problems with those sums.”

“Okay, chotobabu,” Nirendranath laughed. “Let’s learn simplification together.”

For the next half an hour, under Pralay’s watchful eyes, the teacher-student duo tackled a plethora of simplification problems.

Nirendranath faltered a few times, but always arrived at the correct solution eventually. The methods he employed to handle the problems were inefficient at times, and many of the past candidates far exceeded his mathematical skills.

But there was one thing that he was very good at – keeping his student engaged. His chemistry with Rana was off the charts, and the boy hung on his every word and laughed at his every mistake. It seemed like he had known his teacher for a long time and was quite used to interacting with him regularly.

After nearly forty minutes, Pralay intervened and put an end to the class. Rana went away to his mother, and Nirendranath started packing his things.

“If you are selected, how much would you want for your monthly salary?” Pralay finally enquired.

“That is up to you, Pralay babu,” Nirendranath smiled.

“And you have no problem with the duration and frequency of the classes?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Okay. I will contact you if we decide to employ you.”

“Good day, babu,” Nirendranath folded his hands and offered a final greeting before his departure.

Pralay sat down on the sofa, lost in thought. He was still unable to pinpoint the source of his unusual feeling ever since he had laid eyes on Nirendranath, and he grew quite frustrated.

The rest of the day passed quite uneventfully, and soon it was time for the Samaddar household to go to bed.

“Have you made up your mind about the tutor business?” Soumi put forth the question while tucking herself in bed beside her husband.

“I don’t know,” Pralay replied stoically.

“What did you think about Nirendranath babu?” Soumi fired her second question.

“He lacks the expert’s touch, although he eventually gets the answers correct,” Pralay remarked.

“But he sure does know how to keep his student engaged, doesn’t he?” Soumi spoke admiringly.

“That’s true,” Pralay nodded. “But the question is, is that enough?”

“Oh, by the way,” Soumi suddenly remembered something she’d been meaning to say for quite some time. “A very old school friend called me today, you know?” She continued enthusiastically. “We’re having a reunion next Sunday. She said one of our teachers had informed her. I feel so excited about it! I haven’t seen everyone in decades!”

But Pralay didn’t even hear the last sentence. He had sprung out of bed and started running like a maniac towards the door.

“Hey! Where are you going? What happened?” Soumi shouted after him in bewilderment.

“Go to sleep, darling. There’s something I must do!” Pralay exclaimed excitedly.

*

Nirendranath Ghoshal was more surprised than pleased when he got the news that he had been selected as a private tutor, and the following Sunday, he found himself sitting at the exact spot he had chosen last week.

This time, however, Putiram had placed two slices of cake and a couple of very expensive sweets in addition to the cup of tea and two Marie biscuits on the centre table in front of him.

Pralay was sitting across the table with a warm smile on his face. In his hand – very close to his chest – he held an old, worn-out picture book.

“Please, drink your tea,” He motioned towards the untouched cup.

As Nirendranath sipped his tea with a puzzling expression on his face, Pralay started turning the pages of the picture book. When the tea was almost finished, he put the book on the table with his index finger pointing towards a particular photo.

“Niren babu,” he continued inquisitively. “Do you recognise the man in this picture?”

Nirendranath focused on the picture in question.

It was a decades-old school photo.

There was a middle-aged teacher sitting near the front with white kurtas and white pyjamas, flanked by students on all his sides. All the students were smiling joyfully, and the teacher had a calm and soothing expression on his face.

Pralay’s finger was hovering over the teacher, and he waited expectantly for his guest’s answer.

“Why of course I know this person!” Nirendranath exclaimed with surprise. “It’s my father!”

“But what’s the meaning of this?” He continued in astonishment, “Were you one of his students in school?”

Pralay smiled triumphantly.

“When we were in class 5,” he spoke with enthusiasm. “Surendranath sir, or Suren sir as we called him lovingly, became our class teacher.”

“In all my years on this planet, I have never found a more efficient and loving teacher than your father. He was our friend, philosopher, and guide. We could go to him with any problem, and he always heard us out and pointed us towards a solution. I now remember that I literally cried on the last day of class 5 because he would not be our class teacher the next year.”

Pralay paused. His eyes were glistening, and his mind was filled with fond recollection.

Nirendranath, by that time, had also taken out his handkerchief and was busy rubbing his eyes.

“Last week when I saw you,” Pralay continued with warmth, “It immediately struck a chord in my memory. But I couldn’t quite figure out why you looked so familiar.”

“That night, my wife mentioned something about school, and suddenly, the memory of Suren sir jumped out from my subconscious and entered my consciousness. I had always remembered him, but had forgotten his entire name and the way he looked.”

“As I went through my childhood albums one by one, I finally found what I was looking for. I don’t know if you know this, but you look exactly like Suren sir now.”

Nirendranath smiled.

“Yes, I have noticed that as well,” He replied softly.

“Your father played an important role in my childhood, Niren babu, and I am deeply saddened to hear of his passing. But I believe he is in heaven now, teaching the kids and mentoring them in the presence of God.”

Nirendranath sat with his head bent, and his eyes wandered off into the distance. Countless memories of his beloved father had started flooding his memory again.

But his chain of thought was interrupted by Pralay’s voice.

“Suren sir helped us in our times of need,” he was saying. “And now it is time for me to return the favour.”

“When can you start the classes, Niren babu?”

“I can start from today, if you want,” Nirendranath smiled.

Pralay nodded in approval.

“You know, the most incredible part is that Suren sir had come into my life when I was in class 5, and now, you – his son – have come into my life again when my own son is in class 5. Isn’t that astounding?”

“God works in mysterious ways, Pralay babu,” Nirendranath remarked with reverence. “This is merely one of His whims.”

“Yeah,” Pralay agreed. “It seems like life has come full circle!”

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[1] Literally means elder brother, technically “Sir” in this situation as it is used by the household help

[2] Young master

Sayan Sarkar was born and raised in Kolkata. He is a passionate reader and lifelong learner who spends his leisure time immersed in books and new ideas.

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