Rev CK Leeming: A Bridge between the School and the College
At Xavier’s no one took Reverend Cecil Leeming seriously. Nor
did he care to take anyone with any seriousness. In fact he did not take anything
in life seriously at all. His life was full of relaxed wit, full of silent service,
full of warm affection. Never cared to make impressions. Never bothered about
formalities. If Fr Bouche had implicit faith on him, Fr Joris had no less. He
seemed to be an invisible bridge between the school and the college.
Fr Bouche relied on him for all the appointments of sports
teachers at the school. No wonder we always had exceptional former sportsmen as
our sports teachers. Fr Joris depended on him for the recruitment of young
sports talents at the college. No wonder outstanding sportsmen emerged from
Xavier’s during his long tenure.
I doubt if any other priest or teacher enjoyed the same wave
length with both the school as well as the college authorities. He was
extremely popular with the students as the in-charge of the Christian Hostel.
At the same time our sports-ground personnel like Barnabas, Lakra and Mathais
literally worshipped him.
Reverend Fr Leeming left a distinct impression on all those
fortunate enough to have spent time with him. The well-built, handsome priest
was extremely sturdy and mentally alert even in his 80s. His gait gave the
impression of a man of sport who faced the world bare-chested on the open
field. His was a transparent life-style: he had nothing to hide. The mobility
of his physique gave his mobile face a distinctive identity.
Actually he was a top-flight sportsman in his youth. He was
nationally acclaimed as an athlete and would have gone for higher honours
unless the call of the Church in the 1930s steadied him to a life of priesthood.
Fr Leeming’s passion of sports was however not lost on the church authorities.
As a priest, his life
alternated between Calcutta St Xavier’s and Darjeeling St Joseph’s. He had a long tenure at Calcutta St Xavier’s
to supervise the sports activities of the college as well as to take charge of
the Christian hostel. He was destined to spend decades between North Point and
Xavier’s imparting, imploring and encouraging young men to be active on the
sports arena. He combined the Nihil Ultra (“Nothing Beyond” of St Xavier’s)
with the Sursum Corda (“Lift Up Your Hearts” of St Joseph’s) like no other.
Cecil Leeming was a self-effacing gentleman who thrived on
witticism. He just could not hold a conversation without peppering it with a
whole lot of sauces. Once as he emerged from his room on the ground floor of
the hostel building, a lady pleaded, “Fr Leeming, I desperately need your
help.” Without a moment’s hesitation he straight-faced, “Ma’am, the correct
name of the priest is LEE MING. He has chinky eyes and is totally non-emotional.
He is perpetually praying inside the room. He is a very holy man, extremely
grave in his bearing. Please do not disturb him. However, can I assist you,
ma’am?” Goes without saying the request was immediately approved and he went
off looking for some other prey!
“But Father, why did you mislead the lady for no rhyme or
reason?” I asked, stunned.
“Well, well. You characters never praise me so I thought I
would do the job myself! People must know that Leeming is a very pious priest!”
Once a prominent young cricketer, Rana Mukherji (twin brother
of Indian School Boys’ team captain Raja Mukherji) accompanied me to his room
for admission to Xavier’s. Fr Leeming, without even glancing at him, said “Yes,
son, you look stupid enough. What is your lowest score?” Rana was taken aback;
did not know what had hit him. He somehow mumbled, “I think my lowest score is 17.”
“Sorry, cannot take you. You have not played enough cricket.”
I quickly intervened, “Father, no, no, his lowest score is zero.” Typically Fr Leeming replied, “Ok. We will
take you. But try not to improve on your lowest score! Now get out of my sight!”
Interview over; job done.
Generations of sportsmen have benefitted from his peculiar
brand of humour and encouragement. Bhaskar Gupta (first former SXCS student to
play for Bengal in Ranji Trophy), Shivaji Ray, my elder brother Dev Mukherji,
Subroto Guha, Rusi Jeejeebhoy, Suprakash Som and Dilip Doshi to mention a few
represented Bengal in Ranji Trophy while studying at Xavier’s College and being
at the receiving end of Fr Leeming’s brand of earthy leg-pulling. His affection
for Premjit Lal and Vece Paes knew no bounds.
Once I had asked him,” Father, who do you think was the best
cricket talent to emerge from St Xavier’s School?” Instantly he replied, “Best
bowler Shankar Bose, without doubt.” “What about batsmen?” I pestered. He
smirked, “They were all rubbish.” Shankarda (batch probably 1961), of course,
was an exceptional bowler who could bowl medium paced leg-cutters with terrific
control, a rarity even in international cricket. He opted for engineering; a
serious loss to cricket.
Generally, we thought, Fr Leeming ignored the school boys who
practised cricket on the space in front of the then gymnasium and the chemistry
lab. In 1966 the school team recorded a resounding victory by 8 wickets over a
depleted college side which however had the Bengal stars Doshi and Som playing
for them. Mike Carlos (1966 SC batch) might remember the match for he played an
outstanding innings for the school team. At the end of the match, Fr Leeming’s very
short speech to the college lads was a revelation, “Hard luck, girls. Try your
best next time.” The embarrassment of the college lads was a sight indeed.
But that particular encounter had a significant impact on my
equation with Fr Leeming. Whenever he saw me on his regular walks from the
hostel to the college building, he gave me a wry smile! Once, after I had
crossed over to the college for my graduation course, he told me very casually,
“You look bright but you are as stupid as all other cricketers. Why do people
play cricket in the burning sun for 6 hours, God only knows! Silly fools,
nothing less.” Honestly, I had no answer.
On another occasion Xavier’s defeated our perpetual rival
Ashutosh College – a very strong unit comprising current Bengal players – in a
close match. Rather unusual for him, Father Leeming had come to the University ground
at the Maidan towards the end when the see-saw battle was at its height. When
debutant Arjun Mukherji and I returned to the pavilion we had brought off a
very delicate win by a mere 2 wickets. End of the match after all the usual
back-slapping and cheers, the professor-manager of Ashutosh College requested
Fr Leeming to say a few words of encouragement.
Microphone or not made no difference, Fr Leeming was always on
form. More so on that day. He said, “The better team lost. The namby-pamby
jokers of Xavier’s come to play cricket only because of the lunch provided! Now
we will have to organize another lunch for the next match. Unnecessary expenses
which could have been better spent on poor people.”
After the Ashutosh College players had gone, Rana (who else?)
told Fr Leeming that skipper Raju did not allow anybody to have lunch that
afternoon because of our poor performance in the first session where we allowed
our opponents to build a big total. Fr Leeming just asked, “What was in the
luncheon menu?” Rana mentioned, “Chicken stew with sliced bread, vegetable chop
and salad.”
Instantly the grave voice bellowed, “This is the problem with
our idiot of a captain. Who appointed him captain? He does not even know what a
proper cricket lunch should be. Go and ask the canteen man to make fried fish and
mutton chop for all. Rana, you go and get hold of an ice-cream-wallah and order
ice-cream all round.” He gave me a teasing smile and said, “It’s difficult not
to get a decent score against this weak opposition!” That’s Fr Leeming for you
and me. Thoroughly unpredictable but fabulously warm-hearted.
Little did we realize that Fr Leeming kept his eyes and ears
open for the sports talent available at St Xavier’s School. This I came to know
from our school sports teacher Mr Brown, an outstanding hockey goal-keeper in
his youth. Mr Brown always maintained that Fr Leeming was the invisible bond
between the school and the college. This aspect of Fr Leeming has hardly ever
been recognized. His easy manner, his carefree humour and his relaxed
life-style created an impression of being light in the head. He got far more
recognition outside the gates of SXC than he got inside. Father Leeming bridged
the chasm between the school and the college with his brand of Irish humour: a
strong message with an icing of easy wit ala Bernard Shaw, his native
countryman.
Once he took me to the priests’ dining hall on the first
floor for breakfast! I was a little apprehensive, “Father, suppose someone
raises an objection to my presence?” He merely looked at me and flexed his
right forearm muscles!
Another not to be forgotten evening was at the Governor’s
House. Those days in the 1960s the Calcutta University “Blues” were presented their
certificates by the Chief Minister Siddhartha Shankar Ray in a lovely
ceremonial manner with all the players of various sports disciplines and
distinguished guests present. During his speech, SS Ray – the first Xaverian to
be a chief minister – mentioned the exemplary contribution of Fr Leeming to school-college-university
sport in Calcutta. A standing applause greeted the announcement. Fr Leeming,
for a change, looked stumped. The pink complexion turned beet-root red. He was
actually blushing! It took a man of SS Ray’s stature to give the deserving
sportsman-priest his due. Ray signed off, “Reverend Father Leeming, wish you
were in-charge when I represented Calcutta University at cricket in the 1940s.”
Thankfully being Calcutta-based I was fortunate to have had
the opportunity to be in constant touch with him over the next two decades.
Then suddenly one day I came to know that he was at the infirmary on the top
floor of the priests’ residence building. The sight was a shock. Although the
mental alertness remained, the strong physique had given away quite suddenly. A
limp body lay on the bed. A male nurse and I helped him to the balcony to sit
on an easy-chair. He looked happy but also distinctly uncomfortable. Happy to
have someone in front of him. Uncomfortable to be in a chair. The body was just
not willing. Yet the humourous spirit remained, “If I become a ghost, Raju, I
shall come and haunt you. Ok?” He smiled; I wept.
Once way back in the early 1970s, Fr Leeming took me to an
orphanage. He held my hand as we went round. Within minutes, I told him that I could
not take it any longer. He kept holding my hand as we walked back. On the way
back he just said, “Just think how lucky you and I are.” No more words were
needed. That short sentence gave my life a new meaning. Forever in debt to a self-effacing sage who
refused to take himself or anyone seriously. He taught me that life was only a
short, temporary halt in a very long journey to the unknown.
We sat on the balcony for just about 30 minutes. He seemed to
relish the stories that I was telling him of his own glory days. Then he tried
to clasp my hand, but it was only a feeble touch.
The touch was a blessing that has lingered on and on… and it surely
will till my last breath.
