Bhaskar Sen, a science student throughout his high school and college days in India, would decide to pursue his PhD in Chemistry in an American University. He was offered scholarships from a number of institutions of good repute. But he would decide on the one in central Pennsylvania, surrounded by the green nature and picturesque Nittany Mountains. He hoped the serenity surrounding the campus would provide the Zen-like calmness that he might need during his attempt of envisioning new ideas, to be followed by experimental validity. But the process of higher learning had its own price. It took a long four years for achieving the successful outcome of his well thought-out scientific ideas. That’s when he decided to take a break to visit his family back in India. While there, one of his loving aunts took him, along with her two younger sons to visit the seaside town Puri along the shore of the Bay of Bengal. For two weeks, the entire family enjoyed the sandy beach, sea-breeze and local fresh “daily catch of the day” fish. They also visited some magnificent historic ruins in nearby towns that were once a part of a kingdom. Bhaskar would return to US, fully invigorated, to finish writing up and defending his thesis to earn his PhD degree. That was thirty years ago.
Dr. Sen then stayed back in US and enjoyed a successful career in science. On a recent spring day in April, he was going through his original Safari briefcase that he had carried from India on his first trip. He was looking for an old document. He wanted to show the document to his next-door neighbor Richard Tusman, an Indo-phile who enjoys Indian snack papri-chaat and desert golub-jamun, while listening to the ragas of late Ravi Shankar. While scrambling through various aged yellow documents, Dr. Sen stumbled upon his expired first Indian passport. He lifted it up, when a series of black and white photographs fell scattered on the floor. He picked them up one by one to look at. He remembered that they were taken during that Puri-trip. There was one where three cousins were posing against an incoming wall of wave, as if to defy the ocean. But, the one that froze him was the picture of his aunt flanked one side by his cousin Gautam and the other side by him. It was taken in front of a huge marble statue of Lord Buddha in a meditative pose. In the picture, it appeared that as if Lord Buddha was blessing the trio with his open right palm. In a couple of years of taking that picture, Dr. Sen’s aunt, at a very young age, would suddenly depart the earth on 24th April.
Dr. Sen looked at the calendar on the wall in front of him. It was 24th April, 2017.
Dr. Sen then stayed back in US and enjoyed a successful career in science. On a recent spring day in April, he was going through his original Safari briefcase that he had carried from India on his first trip. He was looking for an old document. He wanted to show the document to his next-door neighbor Richard Tusman, an Indo-phile who enjoys Indian snack papri-chaat and desert golub-jamun, while listening to the ragas of late Ravi Shankar. While scrambling through various aged yellow documents, Dr. Sen stumbled upon his expired first Indian passport. He lifted it up, when a series of black and white photographs fell scattered on the floor. He picked them up one by one to look at. He remembered that they were taken during that Puri-trip. There was one where three cousins were posing against an incoming wall of wave, as if to defy the ocean. But, the one that froze him was the picture of his aunt flanked one side by his cousin Gautam and the other side by him. It was taken in front of a huge marble statue of Lord Buddha in a meditative pose. In the picture, it appeared that as if Lord Buddha was blessing the trio with his open right palm. In a couple of years of taking that picture, Dr. Sen’s aunt, at a very young age, would suddenly depart the earth on 24th April.
Dr. Sen looked at the calendar on the wall in front of him. It was 24th April, 2017.
