Age or gender is of no importance when wavelengths meet. In my quest for some Indian silver coins of the Victorian era I found myself in a jewellery shop on Ashoka Road, in 1979. My inquiry drew the attention of an old Anglo-Indian gentleman who was also there. After an introductory conversation we soon found ourselves in his humble “Green Pastures” a couple of furlongs away, in a calm and silent area, so fit for retired people.
Mr. Richard Brown, a widower, after serving as a Guard in the Railways had chosen Mysore to settle down after his retirement since the late 60s. His interests were coins, stamps, cricket, and poultry birds. But his top passion was reading. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was his favourite. Green Pastures was to become my favourite for the next 9 years. He and his kind old widowed sister-in-law lived there. She too was a keen stamp-collector and we had developed a good rapport.
Each other’s collection of stamps and coins were shown and we even got the pleasure of exchanging a few extras. As time rolled on, our friendship grew deeper and there came a time when not visiting the Browns was out of routine! Mr. Brown’s stories seemed to take me in a time machine. The way he narrated the incidents, his disappointments, his few successes - they all made very interesting to listen so very worthy of a book-compilation. A couple of his ‘proverbs’ narrated by him stand out in my memory: “A job well begun is half complete” and “A hobby should be like a loaded cart pulled uphill, without stopping.” I later realized the truth of the latter since I stopped pulling my cart!
Mr. Richard Brown, a widower, after serving as a Guard in the Railways had chosen Mysore to settle down after his retirement since the late 60s. His interests were coins, stamps, cricket, and poultry birds. But his top passion was reading. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was his favourite. Green Pastures was to become my favourite for the next 9 years. He and his kind old widowed sister-in-law lived there. She too was a keen stamp-collector and we had developed a good rapport.
Each other’s collection of stamps and coins were shown and we even got the pleasure of exchanging a few extras. As time rolled on, our friendship grew deeper and there came a time when not visiting the Browns was out of routine! Mr. Brown’s stories seemed to take me in a time machine. The way he narrated the incidents, his disappointments, his few successes - they all made very interesting to listen so very worthy of a book-compilation. A couple of his ‘proverbs’ narrated by him stand out in my memory: “A job well begun is half complete” and “A hobby should be like a loaded cart pulled uphill, without stopping.” I later realized the truth of the latter since I stopped pulling my cart!
Mr. Brown never failed to inform me in advance about the annual X-mas sales at the Barthalomew Church where stamps counter was a special attraction to him. I did visit. He often told about one Mrs. Webb, a missionary in Mysore and Father Didier, both were avid philatelists and he wanted me to meet them. But that never came off. His interest was in 'Air Mail' Stamps and he had a fine collection.
Using his Railway pass, he would annually visit his favourite place Bombay, esp. the GPO. He always used to wonder, even after many many years, about an old lady that sold stamps in front of the GPO and was so disappointed when she was not located by him. He could not travel in his last few years due to a prostrate trouble and surgery that weakened him.
He stopped using his Humber bicycle when he noticed a lack of road sense with pedestrians and others. His humble house was full of old things. A mere glance would take us back into the past.
He had a neat glass showcase full of treasured trophies he won for his poultry birds. He had told a story of how some British officer gave that showcase for him to keep those trophies, before he returned to England. Simiarly, he used to remember with full names and designations of the persons he knew and describe with such detail that it kept me wondering about his sharpness of memory - no wonder his twinkling eyes said it all, what with a frail body!
On one of my usual Saturday-visits, as I was climbing the stairs to meet my 78-year-old friend, his sister-in-law, with tears in her eyes, conveyed, “Don’t go, he’s not there!” It shocked me. He had died suddenly just 5 days back thus curtailing an interesting friendship.
This association helped me gain more knowledge, more wisdom, more confidence in English conversation, inspiration to hobbies and reading. Mrs. Brown was taken by her son to the US. The saddest part is that I could not meet her again or trace her whereabouts. It was an inspiring friendship I cherish, for its quality and value.
[The above is Mr. Brown's autograph. He left us in 1988 May.]
On one of my usual Saturday-visits, as I was climbing the stairs to meet my 78-year-old friend, his sister-in-law, with tears in her eyes, conveyed, “Don’t go, he’s not there!” It shocked me. He had died suddenly just 5 days back thus curtailing an interesting friendship.
This association helped me gain more knowledge, more wisdom, more confidence in English conversation, inspiration to hobbies and reading. Mrs. Brown was taken by her son to the US. The saddest part is that I could not meet her again or trace her whereabouts. It was an inspiring friendship I cherish, for its quality and value.
[The above is Mr. Brown's autograph. He left us in 1988 May.]
1 comment:
Dear Dinakar KR,
Greetings from England. I travelled to Mysore in 1986 when I was a medical student. I had the privilege of meeting Mrs Webb whom you mention in "Mr Brown - My Tributes". She was a remarkable woman, I think already in her eighties, having single-handedly run a rural leprosy and health clinic for many years, as well as a house for girls who learnt various skills such as embroidery. It was a memorable meeting.
Andrew Henderson, Darlington, England.
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