Love, longing and a long bet by the director of the Union Bank of Calcutta

Sometime in the 1830s — a boat docks at the Chandpal Ghat of Calcutta carrying fresh arrivals from England. Among them was a young Scotsman called Ochterlony. History is rather silent as to whether he was related to the great Sir David Ochterlony, but given that he seemed to carry no references, the possibility of the same appears unlikely. After some difficulty, he managed to secure the post of captain in the Company’s Indian armed forces. Like many of the time, he had grown up hearing bedazzling stories of the riches of the land called India. Ever since Lord Robert Clive returned to Britain in 1760 with an estimated fortune of at least £300,000, India, more so Bengal, had come to be regarded as the proverbial golden bird from where the most hopeless fellow could return with an enviable fortune.

Young Ochterlony was no different. But his motivations were a little more unselfish. He was a man deeply in love and the objective of his journey to India was to raise a fortune that would enable him to get married to his beloved, beating off other, more worthy suitors. Soon, after arriving in Calcutta and taking up office, he went around enquiring how much time it would take for him to raise Rs 10,000 through savings. Such a strange enquiry elicited surprise, and on some probing, young Ochterlony bared his heart out to some colleagues.

Sadly, instead of compassion and understanding, this revelation became a source of much mirth and laughter among his colleagues who gave him exaggeratedly long time periods as answers to witness his agony. And the few practical answers he received ended up furthering his despair – the truth was equally harsh. Dejected, he did the only thing that a failure in the affairs of the heart prompts some men to do – hit the bottle with a vengeance. His condition became so pitiable that even those colleagues who had played the prank on him now couldn’t but help sympathising with his cause. They tried to make him see reason, but Ochterlony was adamant – either he would live a life with his beloved or drink his way to death. Finally, his friends told him that to raise that kind of a sum, he had only two options – one was to seek divine intervention. Some pointed out it has been known that offering twin goats to the Hindu goddess at Kalighat worked wonders. But by then, Ochterlony was so desperate that he had little patience for matters to be left to the divine.

The other, easier way, he was told, was to approach the native director of the Union Bank of Calcutta. This gentleman was known to be a good man with a kind heart who also was reputed as a sound judge of character. Perhaps he could help Ochterlony out. Like a sinking man clutching at straws, Ochterlony set out for the Union Bank and arrived at the office of the bank. A guard pointed him to the director’s office. He walked in and saw an Indian gentleman dressed in expensive desi fashion, reading the day’s newspaper with great concentration. The sound of footsteps made him cognizant of a presence in the room. Looking up, he asked the visitor in fluent English the purpose of the visit. Ochterlony was now stuck in a great dilemma. For a servant of the mighty Company to lay bare affairs of his heart to a native man, albeit one appearing educated and affluent, wasn’t easy. Finally, though, his heart won.

Ochterlony laid bare his agonising love story and pleaded for a loan of Rs 10,000. One doesn't know if the bank director felt a sense of empathy for the love-stricken young man or he was indeed a very astute judge of character. In any event, he agreed to forward a loan and taking a chit of paper from his desk, wrote on it a short instruction for payment of Rs 10,000 to the bearer with his initials “D T” below it. Having handed over the piece of paper to Ochterlony, the gentleman calmly went back to reading his newspaper. Ochterlony was now a bit dumbstruck. Who was this man? He pondered. He even felt a flush of anger as he thought a native man was indirectly mocking him by giving him a chit of paper. As he sat there thinking of this, the object of his thoughts looked up, and seeing his guest still seated, called for his orderly. When the latter arrived, he asked him to escort the gentleman to the cashier.

Soon, Ochterlony’s worries were assuaged. When he presented the chit of paper, the cashier without questioning handed over him a sum of ten thousand rupees. Ochterlony could scarcely believe it. He was about to rush off, when his English upbringing kicked in. He went back to thank the director and after expressing his profuse gratitude, said that he would be willing to issue a promissory note as a guarantee against the loan. The director now looked Ochterlony in the eye and said – “Look sir, I am quite confident that you are a gentleman. And if so, there is no need for me to collect a promissory note from you, your word is good enough. On the other hand, if I've misjudged and you are a man of dubious character, then what value does your promise hold?”

The bank director’s famed sense of judgment was not wrong – Ochterlony repaid the money in a short time. In fact, after that day, he always maintained his account in the Union Bank. If you have not figured it out from the initials, the Indian bank director was none other than Prince Dwarkanath Tagore – the scion of the Jorasanko Tagore clan and the grandfather of Rabindranath Tagore. Dwarkanath was one among the first Bengali entrepreneurs. In 1829, he founded the Union Bank of Calcutta. He played a pioneering role in setting up a string of commercial ventures — banking, insurance, and shipping companies — in partnership with British traders. He purchased the first Indian coal mine in Raniganj, which eventually became the Bengal Coal Company.

Dwarkanath passed away in London in 1846 and is buried at the Kensal Green Cemetery.

^{_{Acknowledgements: Kolikatar Kalkotha by Rana Chakraborty}}