While there was not much that transpired at 19 in August, save the commemoration of the Independence Day, the departure of two brethren in close proximity in September cast a pall of distinct gloom. Bro Shankar Lal Banerjee was summoned to the Grand Lodge above on the 3rd. A Mason of forty long years, Bro Banerjee, an alumnus of La Martiniere School, was a member of the school Lodge, as well as of The Mymensingh Lodge. As the Deputy District Grand Master, he had played an important role in the legal battles for the extrication of an integral part of the premises from the grip of the squatters who had long overstayed the tenure the place had been leased out to them. An ace ritualist, he knew the finer points and the intricate details of the workings in the Temple. The Editor remains ever indebted to him for his staunch advocacy, along with that of the then District Grand Secretary, Bro Sudip Dutta, for the appointment of yours truly as the Director of Ceremonies a decade and a half ago, against what might be termed concerted resistance. He was also instrumental in suggesting what was initially just an amorphous idea of his, but later took shape as a Masonic drama. Titled “Three Knocks”, the success of the play, evident from two consecutively packed shows and critical acclaim of the press, lay entirely on the team effort of a diligent cast and a committed crew. However, it was this Deputy District Grand Master who had proposed to the three District Rulers, who had met over lunch at the Annual Communication in 2016 to determine how best to commemorate the tercentenary of English Craft Masonry, that the undersigned write a script, direct the play and act in it. Again, while the others expressed their ifs-and-buts, this man reposed explicit faith in me. Thank you, Shankar, wherever in the firmament you might now reside.

The other Brother, though not of the English Constitution, had on several occasions stepped across the aisle to navigate the District out of what might be termed sticky situations. Of an amiable disposition, Bro Shashi Kant Singh, a member of Lodge Sisir Ghosh, and brother-in-law of Bro Ajit Singh, the Master of The Federation Lodge, used his considerable legal knowledge and prowess – he was a public prosecutor by occupation — to help the District. He departed for the Grand Lodge Above on the day a condolence meeting had been convened to remember Bro Shankar and Bro Dev Dutta Basu. A short report on that meeting is appended below.

Moving forward to pleasanter subjects, the weatherman, armed with the satellite images and other modern gadgetry presently at his disposal, can now predict the weather with a fair degree of accuracy. And true to his prognosis, August turned out to be an almost dry monsoon month – an apparent contradiction in terms. And so it was in the middle of the month, the 15th of August, that is. While there was the usual unfurling of the tri-colour, followed by a rendition of the national anthem at starchy attention, the star of the morning was, without a doubt, the Masonic Montessori School. To learn more about that, dear reader, scroll down to read the report by the Principal, Ms Archana Sudan. The photo gallery, furnished by the lady, eloquently illustrates her report. The elevenses, comprising luchi, alur dam, jilipi and Sandesh, wrapped up the morning.
Scroll a little further down, dear brethren, to savour the verse penned by Bro Chirabrata Majumder of The Federation Lodge. A Mason of just two years, his passion is evident in the rhythmic stanzas.

And finally, what has for some time been a series of discussions, has now been stamped official with the circular from the District Grand Secretary, — that the Quarterly Communication slated for the 4th of November at Jamshedpur, has been called off. Sop? The commemoration of the Foundation Day of the District coming up a month and a half later. On the 27th of December. And this to the disgruntled terpsichores at the last Ladies’ Night: a real-life crooner – no clavier, no ivories this time, no AI beauty belting out the oldies impersonally either — will Pied-Piper you to the dance floor. Venue: might be the cool environment of the Eastern Banquet Hall, with a spanking new seventeen-tonner whirring away; dear brethren, here you shall no longer have to make use of the fourth sign of the third degree, — to pass the “right hand across the forehead and drop it over the left eye in the form of a square” to wipe off the perspiration that stands “in large drops on” your “forehead”. Want the light glancing in blinding rays off the crystals of three grand chandeliers? Well, that is the Northampton Hall for you, then. An al fresco affair, may be, on that hiemal December evening? Then, it is the sprawl of the verdant lawn carpeted with a dewy-wet luxuriant nap of Mexican grass and bordered with an assortment of rongon, duranta and croton, a couple of privet topiaries, interspersed with erica and Chinese palms, and the flabellate foliage of the Abyssinian banana plant. Spoilt for choice, eh?