Some self-declared God-fearing Calcutta (Kolkata today) residents, including British ‘expats’ expressed dismay at the sacks of rice, grain and pulses being stored in St Paul’s Cathedral.
It was in the months following the brief Indo/Pakistan hostilities (3-16 December 1971) that came hard on the heels of the Bhola cyclone the previous year.
Much of lower Bengal was devastated, including large tracts of shortly to be independent Bangladesh, formerly Pakistan’s East Bengal. Yet another Bengal famine threatened. And with the onset of the monsoon the cathedral was as good a safe warehouse as any.
The man who flew in the faces of “disgusted of Calcutta” was the late Canon Subhir Biswas, dean of St Paul’s who was born in 1933 – in Germany. To my shame I had no idea of his origins, or I would surely have put a lot of twos together.
Big-hearted and charismatic, Subhir cut a splendid dash when he turned up for supper on his Harley-Davidson, complete with motor-cycling leathers.
It was Subhir who christened our second daughter, born in Calcutta on 21 December 1974. In doing so he produced a beautiful muslin baptismal shawl which he announced proudly as having been made by one of his parishioners living in a nearby bustee (slum).
It was a fact of life in those days – probably still is – that settlements of abject poverty might be found right under the walls of impressive mansions. A particular memory is of a large drawing room complete with a priceless work of art protected from the elements and overlooking the slum below.
At times, the dean seemed to be a lonely figure. If there was a cathedral infrastructure to support his efforts it was not immediately apparent. He yawned and sighed a lot, suggesting physical and mental strain.
During long dark winter evenings he would drive out in a large car loaded with items to be distributed to needy individuals he had identified. On one occasion he invited me along and I watched as he handed over T-shirts to young Indians shivering in the brief but damp January cold. Subhir knew their identity and could talk about them as if they were neighbours – and in the Christian sense, they were.
He had a following from young Indian Christians from comparatively well-to-do families who he encouraged in their wish to pursue charitable activities, but who otherwise were without inspiring leadership. Sadly, his plans for promoting their activities were probably never fulfilled.
Two years after my posting in India ended, I learned that Subhir had died. The record says that he was struck down by cancer. A good colleague who remained at post two years after my departure considered that over-work had killed him. Or, as I have noted repeatedly, Canon Subhir had run the good race, and had completed the course – in God’s eyes.
