My father, my pride!

 My father, my pride!

My father, whom I'm eternally proud of

Everyone has a father, but not everyone is lucky to have a good, kind, caring, wise and affectionate father. I have been endowed with the presence of such a father in my life, whose immense genorousity my humble words hopelessly fail to express. He, Mr. Amitabha Chatterjee, is someone whom the world looks up to, and yet, I did not realize it for most part of my life. Today I realize, how blind I was, to not recognize his glory. He may have impressed some and infuriated some in his life, but he was, is and will continue to be my hero, my teacher, my guide, my foremost friend and my spiritual teacher.

Birth and family

My noble father, His Honour (to address him formally, with his official designation) Shri Amitabha Chatterjee was born on a Sunday, that incidentally happened to be the very day witnessing the annual Rath Yatra celebrations in Puri, and throughout Bengal. As is the common sight, it's needless to state that it must have rained that day, but that rain was actually a blissful shower, a symbol of the compassion and mercy of the Maker above, and not one of those savage storms that tear away lives or uproot trees. It appears to me, that the very nature itself was rejoicing that day, to celebrate the birth of someone so divinely blessed, someone who'd later reveal himself as a forerunner of Indian Judgeship, and yet remain seemingly and divinely innocent of deceit, vanity or pride.

Born to a middle-class Bengali Brahmin family in 1960, my father had had the opportunity of hearing the sacred words of Mr. Aditi Kumar Chatterjee, my great grandfather, whose sagely personality has been reflected in my father to a great extent.

Katwa Station, acting as a gateway to the
ancient and historic township

Born to the late Arun Chandra Chatterjee (my grandfather) and Mrs. Namita Chatterjee (my grandma), my father had had a stressful life, full of insults and disheartening speeches hurled at him. As a boy, he had wanted to be a cricketer, and yet his stern father had robbed him of even his playtime. My father did not have a happy and prosperous childhood, because his father was a moderately positioned clerk at the Registry Office, with an all-but-insulting salary. As a child, he had wanted to experience nothing other than the profound joy of freedom, of one day free of the humdrum monotony of the sultry life of suburban Katwa. And yet, rarely did he get what he wanted. 

Early life and education

My father himself claims that his childhood education is nothing to be proud of, but I'm certain he's literally being way too modest, trying in vain to eclipse the bright gleam of the sun of wisdom that continues to resonate within and through his vast intellect. Scholastic education in India, especially in rural Bengal (Katwa is everything but a modern town, even today), was just a matter of memorizing stuff, and practically vomiting it out on the answer-sheet, back then. And my father was therefore not very interested in the unscientific methods of education.

It's a sad truth that his father and contemporaries had failed to discover what a prodigious talent he actually had displayed, in the field of history, primarily. Even today, after having left history lessons all those years ago, his knowledge of history continues to dazzle the minds of many, myself included. It was thus a pity, that our faulty method of education could not discover the hidden talents in my father, and thousands of others. But no matter, that couldn't stop him from being what he is today, from reaching where he stands this moment.

The prestigious Kashiram Das Institution (KDI)
of Katwa, that served as my father's secondary
and higher secondary institute

Despite having displayed applauded elegance in bowling, he could not convince his stern father to support him in pursuing cricket as a hobby. And we can't blame Mr. Arun Chandra, my grandpa, for that. Not much, at least. Arun Chandra had identified his family as a typical middle-class family, the goal of whose children would be solely to earn money and a respectable position in the world, in order to propagate the family-tree biologically and socially. But on the second thought, I don't get myself to support my grandpa's overly stern methods of dealing with his only son.

After passing higher secondary with good results, my father went on to secure a BSc. degree in Zoology. As a lover of history, he had displayed disinterest in pursuing a scientific career, and even his maternal uncle (who's a teacher till date) had supported his decision by highlighting his impeccable interest in humanities. Yet, this could not prevent Arun Chandra's decision from being implemented.

Joining law and legal practice 

Although he graduated with marvelous ease and success, despite having combated so many problem which I don't see any need of mentioning here (they can fill an entire book), my father decided to return to humanities again, through the welcoming way of legal studies. He joined the University of Burdwan, and continued his life as a resident student. And thus started a perennial stream of criticisms directed toward him, from our misanthropic relatives, none of whom deserves even a mention here.

This is where he proved his excellence, and displayed an immaculate degree of skill in the field of law. He made his notes himself, became more or less self-taught, and emerged as the topper of the entire law school. That was the beginning of his journey to success.

With his security, Mr. Kuldip Singh, and
driver, Mr. Paritosh Roy

Soon enough, he had graduated with the rainbow splendour of success bestowed upon him by the unseen Seer, the sole judge of all things earthly and beyond, who saw it fit to reward him for his tireless labour. The best reward came in the form of his excelling in the WBCS (West Bengal Civil Service) PSC examination. Starting from such humble beginnings, he had actually triumphed. Securing the 8th position amongst tens of thousands of candidates hailing from allover West Bengal and beyond, he had been selected as a Judicial Magistrate, to lead the tireless chariot of Indian justice forward.

Career as a judge 

With other respected Judges of Indian Judiciary,
The Register (Judiciary), my mother and me

As a Judicial Magistrate, my father was first posted (quite ironically, I'd say) in Burdwan itself, the very city where he had witnessed his biological birth, as well as his intellectual rebirth. And this was to be the third in his series of 'births', his emergence as a judge, one of those blessed and respected few who speak with the voice of justice, the voice of Dharma, the voice of God.

Since then, he had been transferred throughout India, across multiple districts and cities of West Bengal. He had also served his term as the Joint Secretary, Dept. of Law, West Bengal, having aided the Govt. of West Bengal in devising new legislatures and laws. And as a reward for his tireless contribution to India, to Justice, to Humanity, he has now been promoted to the post of the Hon'ble District & Sessions Judge, Cooch Behar, which occupies a total of 3,387 sq. km (which is no joke), and a whooping 2,822,780 people.

My father's administrative Judisdiction
at present

As the head of the entire District Judiciary, my father holds tremendous responsibility of position. Every other day he to deal with murder cases, rape charges and other such monstrosities, to name a few, and yet he manages to find time to share a couple of words with me, over telephone.

My father, my pride 

My Father's Court building, where he
delivers the sentence of justice,
the verdict of law, the word of God

My father today holds the power to change the very course of life of a man. His Judgements are being hailed everywhere, and his words have settled countless disputes. Yet, what fascinates me most about him is that, he's still a simple-minded Bengalee at heart, someone who remains innocent of the treachery and malign deceit that has become a regular feature of the modern society. Despite holding such power and prestiege, he is truly and literally free from the clutches of pride and vanity. This is what makes him closest to me, because to me, he's my father. To others, he's a human first, Amitabha Chatterjee next, and a respected Judge later. Really, today he is served by more than 20 attendants, including his securities, guards, gardeners, peons, orderlies and driver, and he treats everyone of them with utmost respect as a fellow human being, as a brother, as an associate.

I have insulted him, criticized him, assaulted him, rebuked him and even tormented him, in my brief life, clearly establishing myself as little better than an abominable example as a son. And sadly, many of his relatives have done so as well. His uncle (and thus, my only surviving great-uncle), whose name I'd cease to mention here, had even accused him (in a memoir he'd penned down) of being way too proud of his position, which I find laughingly ridiculous, and painfully so.

His official residence, the Parijat Villa,
once-palace of the Prime Minister of the
independent kingdom of
Koch Bihar (Cooch Behar)

My father has forgiven everyone who has wronged him in his life. And this, above everything else, is his greatness. This is why I am proud of him, for he is the light of my life, the sun of infinite glory that has shown me my way. I have wronged him, and yet he did rarely raise a finger against my unspeakable sins, in doing so. For he is always my kind, compassionate, friendly father. And this is why I adore him. 

पिता सर्ग पिता धर्म पिता हि परमम् तपः
पितरि प्रितिमापन्ने प्रियन्ते सर्बदेबताः 

Thy father is the heaven and morality, 
And he alone deserves the greatest adoration, 
For as he remains pleased with thee, 
So remains the whole pantheon of Gods.

Lastly, a little something I wrote, to attempt to thank him for what he has been in my life. And I know it well, that no matter what wealth I gather or amass, it'll always fall short before the value of what he has done for me.

With my mother, a shot
taken by me early this year

My words, for you

My beloved father, father of my soul,
Maker of my body, my life and my goal,
You who taught me first words to speak

And led me along the very way I seek,

Be adored with the words from my heart,
O Witness of my unworthy life's blessed start!

You are my pride, my source of might,
Revealing my way ahead, my beacon of light!

You who taught me to respect greatness,
Foremost lessons of math, science and chess,
You who created me from your noble self,
And rendered to me your kind hand of help,

Be adored by the words that form within me,
In your kind company, or far away from thee,
Be adored by my verses, both new and old,
And bless me with strength, to stay joyous and bold,

And joyous you stay, every moment and next,
Amid the world, no matter how perplexed.

For my verses, my prayers and my dreams

Forever surround you, like Sun's radiant beams.

Way beyond blood and way beyond flesh,
My relation to you forever stands afresh,
Away from your words, your love and grace,
I still feel forever in your warmest embrace.

You wiped my tears whenever I wept,
And never had me in my sorrows left.

Among all fathers the history has seen,
You are the best one, to ever have been!

May the luminous light shinning above us,
Unite us happily, again and again thus,
May it bind us with love's sacred oath,
And in peril and joy, protect us both!

To you, 

Beloved Father,
From your most unworthy son,
Anirban Chatterjee, your Budo :-)