Pritish Nandy (1951-2025): The Lone Ranger of Pedder Road

PRITISH NANDY wore his years lightly. Life was a lark. Poet, au­thor, filmmaker, publisher, typeface designer, creator of happenings, raconteur, wit. He was a lodestar in a con­stellation of creativity. There was a time in his mid-twen­ties when he had acquired matinee-idol stardom.

We were contemporaries, lived in the same city, and spent long hours in each other’s company. He was big-hearted and extremely generous. He gave me his spacious apartment in Son­ali, Alipore Park Road, to live with my family. Consider­ate to the core, he offered me office space in the same building. It was all on the house, every amenity was complimentary.

Pritish had a particular weakness for the underpriv­ileged, for orphans, and the homeless. Many years ago, on a trip to Darjeeling, where people go for sightseeing and to see Kanchenjunga, Pritish went to an orphanage. An inconceivable location for a tourist. He told me that he felt so sad and empty that on the spur of the moment he decided to adopt a four-month-old orphan baby girl. At that time, Pritish was living alone. He told me, “I felt lonely in the orphanage, now I am full.” It was a great act of humanity, kindness, and social responsibility.

When he migrated to Bombay, the baby accompa­nied him. It was a sublime example of unconditional love. That baby has now grown to womanhood. Pritish arranged her mar­riage and now she has children of her own. How satisfying and fulfilling.

Pritish Nandy was a loner. He believed in creating his own ambiance. He would of­ten talk of his boyhood days. Why he left Presidency College and decided to remain an undergraduate. To live alone, on his own. He would talk about battling the pangs of hunger by drink­ing endless cups of tea from neighbourhood teashops. Memories of the simpler and happier times. Reminis­cences were expressions of joy, not of regret.

Time and prosperity brought fame and power. Member of Parliament, office on Nariman Point, and residence at Pedder Road. Yet it made him yearn for his lost childhood and innocence. He did not equate material success with happiness. He was not a party-goer. He would abstain from alcohol and make up by drinking his favourite Darjeeling tea. The time spent with him was about debates, a wicked sense of humour, banter—that were often blunt and candid. He had a way with words and visuals.

There was a fundamental honesty about this plain-speaking, point-blank man. He was never shy to shock or offend. Not a man who would pull his punches.

The last time I spoke with him was almost a year ago on February 1, 2024. The great arbiter called death has ensured there will be no further communication.

(Tapan Chaki co-edited Peerless Minds: A Celebration with Pritish Nandy)

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