His smile was enigmatic, enduring and magical. One look at him and you could see he was a boy just starting to blossom in life. His dreams were taking shape.
His name - Sudipto Gupta, a student leader in the student politics of Kolkata.
How did such an innocent face get into politics; but then not all politics is dirty, and neither are all politicians.
Sudipto was simply demanding that regular elections be held in the colleges. A right, guaranteed by the Courts. Why wasn't the college willing to hold elections?
Sudipto was the solace to his aged and ailing father who was fond of music. He loved playing the violin and waited till Sudipto was home. After all he wanted to calm him down with the all pervading strains of his violin and make him forget the day's stress and strains. His father knew his son was fighting for a cause, fighting for what is right. He didn't interfere in his son's activities. He only wished him well in life. If his son had a life in politics, so be it.
He would start his violin after the meals were over. Sudipto would come in his room and lie down at his feet. He would then start the strains of the violin Sudipto so liked to hear. Sometimes he would just doze away in his father's room listening to the haunting music.
Today he felt slightly uneasy. Sudipto had told him about the student agitation picking up force. How the authorities were opposed to the call for college elections. He had to lead a march today in the streets of Kolkata protesting vehemently and demanding their right to hold free and fair elections in the colleges.
He told Sudipto to be careful as he watched him leave the house. He was reluctant to send him out today, but as Sudipto told him if he didn't go, who would lead?
His frail looking father stood at the door watching the slim and diminutive frame of his son leave for the college. Suddenly Sudipto looked back at his father and smiled. With a flourish he waved his hand and turned away from him. Perhaps never to return back to him.
His father got the shocking news in the afternoon. His son Sudipo was no more. The world seemed to stop for him, and his brain went numb. All he could do was to lift up his frail hands in the air and looking up towards heaven let out a cry, bidding his son a tearful goodbye.
'Who will now listen to the violin, my son? was all he could lament and wail again and again.
Nobody seemed to care; his only companion, his dream had been cruelly snatched away........
Obituary : I didn't know Sudipto Gupta......but his untimely death, his innocent face, his enigmatic smile and above all his grieving father have left an inedible mark on me.....This is the least I could do for him..........R.I.P.