Jhargram, a subdivisional town in West Bengal, is the gateway to Lalgarh which was a centre of Maoist action less than a decade ago. It is part of the forested Jangalmahal area, stretching across several districts to the west of the state, with a significant adivasi population. Unsurprisingly, the current president of the local Lions Club, Bishnu Pada Ray, is not a business heavyweight but a retired government officer who sells life insurance policies.
Ray's claim to local fame is neither government nor insurance work but the way the fascinating story of his life has unfolded. Early in life in Lalgarh his family received two blows. In 1955 the zamindari system ended, taking away his father's job with the raja, and the family agricultural land by the Kangsabati river was almost entirely eaten away by erosion. The family moved to Jhargram, stayed in a jhopri, their mother made and sold muri (murmura or puffed rice) and young Bishnu somehow managed to clear his school final exams in 1957.
Unable to study further, which both he and his mother were very keen on, he took up the job of a peon in the food and supplies department of the state government. Then began a long journey upward through self-improvement (first by picking up typing and shorthand) which enabled him to eventually retire as a chief inspector in the department.
While this is a remarkable tale in its own right, it is not unique. What really stands out can be summed up by the fact that today, two decades after retirement, with a small government pension supplemented by the earnings from the insurance work, Mr Ray distributes Rs 38,000 a month to 50-odd students to help them get on with their higher studies. He is consumed by a passion. Since he could not become a graduate or more, which he dearly wanted to, he will do all he can to help bright poor students achieve their dreams.
Here are a few gems from his collection of stories of students helped. One of them which he particularly likes is that of Nirmal Krishna Mahato, born blind. Now 30, he teaches at a local high school after having graduated with honours in English.
Mr Ray started helping Mr Mahato from class 11 and he is in the habit of telling people, "Being as I am, I can't see any god, but I do know Ray Babu." Or take the case of Somnath Das, whose father sold chanachur. After passing MBBS, he is now interning at the Medinipur Medical College Hospital. He recently dragged Mr Ray to a photo studio for a picture with himself which he said he would hang up on the wall next to his parents'.
Then there is Arijit Mohapatra, son of a daily wage earner who was able to get into the prestigious Bengal Engineering College at Shibpur, now a university. He is now doing an M Tech at IIT Kanpur. Pratap Panda has gone one step further. Helped through college, he is in a PhD programme at IIT Kharagpur. In an entirely different stream is Sumanta Mandal whose father used to sell muri. He is now working for his MA at Kolkata's Presidency University. Mr Ray can go on - but there is a limit to the running notes you can take.
Mr Ray's dreams are all built around helping the poor and enabling the more successful students among them to keep studying. He is also keen on creating an institution which bears his mother's name, considering the fact that educating him was so important for her when she herself had no formal education. Hence there is free homeopathic clinic at the Red Cross Society building, set up and supported by Mr Ray, named after his mother.
But he has been thwarted in his ultimate dream of helping put the resources together to build a degree college in Lalgarh which would bear his mother's name. The developmental state, galvanised into action by the Maoist insurgency, has built a government college there and got in working from this year in almost record time. But Mr Ray remains undaunted. He will now use the money he had put together and the promises he had collected for further help to start an education trust - with a corpus whose earnings will carry on with the educational support work after he is gone.
A matter of great pride and solace to Mr Ray ("I began as an office peon at Rs 57 a month salary, distributing tea") is the fact that his son is now an associate professor in the department of hematology at the Calcutta Medical College. With the insurance income declining, these days Mr Ray is occasionally forced to encash a bank fixed deposit to keep supporting the students. Knowing his mind, his son has told him, "No need to leave anything for me. Give everything away."
As he revs up his scooter to go home after seeing us off at our hotel at the end of a long day, he says quite simply, "God has given me a lot."
subirkroy@gmail.com
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