Like everything else, Masonry too had ground  to a halt – screeching would be an appropriate onomatopoeia to describe its abruptness. Meeting after meeting, convocation after convocation had come to be abandoned. 19 wore a look of what taxi-drivers of yore addressed as a bhoot bangla, ghost bungalow, — to borrow a loanword. However, it was a matter of great satisfaction amidst the pervading gloom that the aspect of Masonry, “which may justly be denominated the distinguishing characteristic of a Freemason’s heart – I mean Charity”, marched on. “To call your attention”, dear reader, “to a retrospect of the” activities undertaken by the District of Bengal, while the world sought the immurement of home, a group of Masons, braving what was then a totally unknown — to a certain extent still is, what with its chameleonic mutations —   and deadly predator, criss-crossed the streets of Calcutta, dispensing masks, sanitizers and rations to the needy through police stations and a police kitchen, designated the nodal agencies for the relief work. The band of dedicated brethren comprised Darayas Bapooji, Nauzer Batlivala, Raj Kumar Bharech, Tapas Bhattacharya and Carl Fowler. Bro G N Singh stood out in particular for his indefatigable efforts. One empathised with the conflicting emotions of the families: on the one hand in mortal dread for the safety of their beloved, on the other worrying for the well-being of the distressed who would have been deprived had these doughty few not thus braved the odds.  A cleft stick, if ever there was one. R Wor Bro Devendra Lal Thapar led by example. When all above the age of 60 were being vehemently urged to stay indoors, this septuagenarian ventured out regularly, procuring the materials and overseeing the relief work. With an attitude that appeared to verge on the cavalier, but driven by a passionate zeal to succour the less fortunate.

Then came,  what in trans-Atlantic colloquialism is termed, a double whammy. Struck cyclone Amphan from above the choppy waters of the briny. Freemason’s Hall took a hammering. Just as extensive swathes of south Bengal did. Trees – veritable Methuselahs  adorning the grounds, some antedating the first cornerstone — were uprooted, window panels unhinged, priceless Belgian stained-glass panes shattered, the robing room awash with water leaking from the roof. Again the group of brethren rallied round. While they cleared the driveway soon after, the other repairs took some time.

September brought the first smile on the brethren’s faces: meetings and convocations resumed after a hiatus of six months. Generally poorly attended, — many, especially those with co-morbidities, electing to desist from attending — it was nevertheless a start. The Annual Convocation and Communication in October rendered the much needed fillip. Shorn of the traditional Ladies’ Night, the evening ended, as it were, on a bland note. The festive boards took yet another month to resume.  

With many Lodges affiliated to the Indian Constitution commencing their meetings, December brought back the familiar look at 19. It has, however, to be conceded that the members did look somewhat chastened, if you get the drift, dear reader; conspicuous by their absence were the effusive handshakes and hugs.  Replaced by the more formal Indian salutation of namashkar. The social distancing has lent an air of impersonality, if imperceptible; while the solicitous enquires have been there, the usual spontaneity appeared somewhat dimmed.