No one kissed. Notwithstanding the exhortations by the strains on the piano, even as the deft fingers of Amar Mullick blurred on the ivories, urging osculation. In copious abundance. Besame Mucho. He qualified it on the octave, though, in the following number: Never on a Sunday. It was a Saturday, yet no one locked lips. No one danced either. To either of the recitals, performances that may be termed solo polyphonies. He then tried Lara’s Theme. No one waltzed. Desperate, the virtuoso bent over the clavier, the hammers striking out La Cucaracha. Maybe a roach, unbeknownst to all,  jived on the oriel floor, or whatever it could, devoid as it was of its cursorial appendages, but nary a response from the eighty odd diners on the black and white chequered floor. La Paloma met the same fate. As did the fatalistic Que Sera Sera and others from his seemingly inexhaustible repertoire. A dejected Amar slouched away three hours later. Some opined that a crooner would have been so much better. Others said, between  burps of satiation, that no one could dance on a full stomach.

A full stomach, indeed. The d’eouvres comprised eggs devilled, – a devil of an appetizer, — and fish fingers. And vegetable gold coins for the herbivores. Flushed down with chilled beer, whisky and vodka — a temporary licence had been procured for the evening from the excise department. Some paired the drinks with cigars, and while they did not chew the wrappers, electing instead to puff the perfectos and coronas, chew the fat they most emphatically did– with a fervour only a cognoscenti can set forth — on the flavours, brands, origins and sundry other nuances. They chose to engage in such animated conversation outside the cool environment of Northampton Hall, thoughtfully sparing the others of passive-smoking the toxic, though aromatic, fumy exhalations. Cocktail hour over, the diners were summoned to their tables. Toasts were raised, commencing with the loyal one, by the Directors of Ceremonies in between servings of  garlic fish, spinach rice and tetrazzini of diced chicken. Could one, gifted with acute auricular faculties, discern murmurs of discontent, especially among the arthritic and the epicures, the former from having to stand up ever so often, and the latter considering the prosits a distinct distraction from the delectable offerings of the consummate chef, Prasad, as the salutations dragged on and seemingly interminably on?

Yes, you have guessed right, dear brethren, the above two paragraphs  allude to the Ladies’ Night that followed the Annual Convocation and Communication held on Saturday, the 15^th of July. The Convocation saw  Comps Nauzer M Batlivala promoted as Deputy Grand Superintendent, Kaushik Mukherjee as Principal Haggai and Raj K Bharech as Principal Joshua. Comp Anil Vaswani was invested the Scribe Ezra. In place of Companion Gyanendra Narain Singh. Comp Subir Dutta was elected uncontested as the Treasurer. Grand Superintendent Thapar reserved his address for the Communication.

At the Communication, while the agenda featured the usual salutations and reports, the meeting had a couple of interesting changes. The first was the processional, The Prince of Denmark’s March, played out as R Wor the District Grand Master and his deputation marched into the Western Temple at andante in time to the rhythmic tune, also called Trumpet Voluntary. Only, the music emanated not from an organ, or the trumpet stop of the console, from which it derived the eponymous monicker, but from a newfangled gizmo that goes by the impressive name of bluetooth speaker.  Repeated subsequently  as the Grand Officers, the Past Deputy Regional Grand Master and the Deputy District Grand Masters of Bombay and Madras processed in, and again as a recessional. A first time in living memory,  it accorded a pleasant surprise and was well received by the brethren. Fortunately, there was no occasion for a requiem, though one laments that the above two brethren left us not long after.

The other noteworthy change was the promotion of Bro Gyanendra Narain Singh, popularly known as GN, from the post of District Grand Secretary, in which capacity he had well and worthily exercised himself for five years —  five long years of turbulence, of conflicts inside and outside of courtrooms, that Freemasonry in Bengal had ever encountered  — to the just deserts of District Grand Senior Warden. He has, — as he recuperates from an affliction that warranted emergency invasive intervention late at night a couple of weeks ago, — memories of soldiering on, with an intrepidity few can summon up, disbursing medicines and rations to the underprivileged during the dark days of the Wuhan scourge, with scant regard for his own safety or that of his family, even as the rest of us had sought refuge within the hermetically sealed four walls of our homes. He has recollections of reviving what had an ephemeral existence on a couple of occasions much earlier, the Quarterly Communications, and these at the mofussil Lodges to give those distant brethren a sense of belonging. He has reminiscences of, again a first time in living memory, initiating the Foundation Day commemorations of the District, where benevolence comprised an important part. He reflects on  taking head on the machinations and wiles of the unwelcome guest who had overstayed our hospitality for over a decade, as well as of an insidious element who had facilitated this illegal occupation of an integral swathe of the sprawling 19,  — even as battles were being fought in courtrooms. He ponders on the various measures he had initiated to augment the revenue of a District bled white by the expensive legal tussles. The one thing he has no memory of is when he had last exercised that virtue called diplomacy. These columns wish him a speedy recovery.

And as he recovers, he also looks back with gratification on the District Grand Master acknowledging his contribution in the bitter, long-drawn-out  retrieval process in his, the DGM’s, address at the Annual Communication. That address, while welcoming the dignitaries from the other Districts and thanking Bro Krupa David for his mentorial role, dwelt at length on the afore-mentioned subject, on how it has left the District direly indigent. Bro Thapar then lamented how he has been missing his peg or two with the brethren at 19, with no early solution  in sight; the congenital optimist – or, cynic? — recommends the Hubble Telescope. The DGM then stressed on how the Quarterly and Half-yearly Communications held outside the precincts of 19 helped in cementing the bondage among the brethren spread across  five distant cities. The updating of the Adelphi records brought them in synchrony with the UGLE register, and the recent Initiation of several brethren in Andamans and Prinsep Lodges was a welcome development, especially in the face of a general decline in numbers, the DGM noted. To arrest the dwindling numbers, he prescribed making the Lodge meetings more interesting and recommended the induction of friends and relatives. The DGM wrapped up his speech expressing his pleasure at seeing many brethren from the out-station Lodges, who had travelled long distances to attend the Meeting.

The brethren of Kolkata went back home wondering which of these out-station Lodges, all known for their hospitality, they would visit in November for the Quarterly.