The pen that flows… SAMSHER ALI – WRITER AND MY MAMA

11th January 2026.

Dear family members and readers,

I write to you to share my thoughts on my mama’s journey as a writer. More than that, I write to honour the recognition that it has brought to our family, friends and well-wishers.

Kalimpong, our hometown, a sleepy hamlet nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas. A political conundrum throughout the ages with neighbours like Bhutan, Sikkim and Tibet. And then in recent memory, the Gorkhaland agitation and the aftermath.

My grandfather, Late R T Ali Sir, God bless his soul, was a man of many talents. In fact, his life journey is an inspiration for all of us. From a humble farmer’s homestead, to fighting the Japanese in Burma during the Second World War, to joining the Indian Air Force after Independence, to winning the Independence Football Cup in Mela Ground, to working in a remote village called Mangerjung as a teacher, then as the legendary teacher of SUMI school (the oldest in Kalimpong) and having a house in the school named after him to mentoring legions of students, to becoming the Commissner of Kalimpong Municipality, an OG Congressman, a social worker and activist, a loving son, brother, husband, father and a doting, loving grandfather – everything that was my Bajey.

Growing up in Kalimpong was our shared heritage. Now, with our clan members scattered all over, Kalimpong resides for many of us, including me, in our hearts.

Our mama, Mr Samsher Ali, is also a raconteur, a troubadour, a teller of tales by the fireside. In his journey, he has read avidly and widely. Inspired by the giants of literature and the reading habits of Bajey – Samsher Mama has acquired the pen that flows.

A man of many words, always eager to help, with a ready laugh. But for the last four and half years, he has made Kolkata his home. His battle with kidney issues has confined him to his house with regular visits to the nephrologist and the oncologist. My maiju and my three cousins have also made Kolkata their second home.

In spite of his medical challenges, his spirit is indomitable.

I met him in my youngest aunt’s house in Siliguri (my Kalumi Cheyma). He had travelled with maiju from Kolkata just for a day. But it was a last-minute reprieve as he was unwell and not able to travel a few days earlier. The Gods had been kind.

We caught up on a lot of stories. His treatment, his daughters, sons and granddaughter, the writings, Kolkata and of course reminiscing about childhood days. The stories were endless. The banter over a sumptuous lunch was unending and full of mirth. I guess the infectious spirit of Christmas had spilled over to the exuberant hope of the new year. I could sense the glow of warmth on my mother’s face as she looked on dotingly at her “bhai”. Three generations of family- as my sister and her son was also there bonded over the common love of stories and Kalimpong. There were legendary stories about my eldest mama, Mr Iqbal Ali – but that is for another day.

Of course, I readily and happily volunteered to be his chaperone him to the felicitation award the next day.

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On a warm January morning, we started out for the venue. As we were early and had time on our hands, Mama expressed a desire to meet his long-lost cousins in Salbari. This branch of our family had settled in the rural area of Salbari many moons ago. I remember going there as a small boy with my grandparents, watching the paddy being harvested and drinking the traditional milk tea with a twist – with both sugar and salt!

Recently my mother had visited them- three brothers Sohrab, Allaudin and Sallaudin – and their families. Now only two brothers were there and mama wanted to meet them. So, we drove into Dagapur Tea estate and after asking for directions from the locals, we reached the sleepy hamlet.

The meeting was joyous. They were thrilled to meet mama and us but unfortunately, we had to leave soon for the felicitation program.

We reached the new urban sprawl of Methibari- Salbari, Siliguri for a momentous gathering. The Annual literary award ceremony of the Gorkhaland Territorial Administration was held at Cheli-Maity Bhawan in Methibari-Salbari.

An exclusive group of writers, poets, artists and singers had been invited under the same roof. Amongst the luminaries of Nepali Literature, my uncle Samsher Mama was felicitated. He was awarded the Shiva Kumar Rai Award for Literature 2025.

The presence of the awardees sent a wave of excitement among the audience. I was awestruck in their presence but the most palpable feeling was of pride – pride in my uncle’s achievement. His entire biography was read out along with his list of works. All the officials and dignitaries felicitated my uncle with a plaque, a citation, a shawl and a prize of one lakh rupees. My aunt (maiju) and I were elated beyond words.

The pen in his hand is a magical tool, spinning tales of ghosts, yarns of village life, war, romance, comedy- most of the stories based in Kalimpong and the hills.

His repertoire includes

·        Bhew Bhalay – 2010

·        Soldati Gorkha Molto Boune,2014.

·        Huttitau, 2018

·        Afreen 2021

·        Mama 2022

·        Abuii 2024

·        The Last Dance 2025

·        Khadua Bandook 2025

Though his official work was in the Food & Supply department, his love for literature and Kalimpong led him to organise weekly sittings of poets and writers at his place, aptly named “Bushi Byalo”.

His contributions to various magazines, newspapers and periodicals have been unending. One of his poems was published in the South East Asia literary journal and now schools in Kathmandu are using this poem in their syllabus.

I was just happy that I was witness to this historic event and could share the special moment with my mama.

We left the venue and headed for our home in Siliguri – lunch and a flight in the evening awaited him.

After lunch, we were talking to him – his ready smile and memory had tales for every occasion. He has been writing at a feverish pitch, giving the world and us his stories. His legion of fans has encouraged him to keep on writing and his books are sold out as soon as they are released.

Whenever I happen to meet someone who is his ardent fan, my heart fills with pride to tell them that Samsher Ali is my mama, my uncle, my childhood mentor- the one who taught me cricket and it’s nuances, the one who introduced me to music (Eagles to Jim Reeves), who taught me and all the neighbourhood kids how to play chess during the “Chalis-din ko strike” (can’t forget the Ruy Lopez opening), who used to tie a string to my shaky tooth and pull it out with one smooth movement, the one who carved cricket balls with bamboo roots, the one who made “put-puttay” for us (you know if you know), the one who took us for picnics as his love for get-togethers is legendary.

 But sadly, our reverie was ended as I had to reach him to the airport. Along the way, mama and maiju gave us their blessings and sage advice.

When I left him and maiju at the airport, I got the warmest hug. It was already dark as I bid bye – promising to meet soon.

As I reached home, I got a call. The security at the airport had confiscated his precious gift – “Basti ko ghew”. Well, we joked about it saying at least someone will get an unforgettable taste of Kalimpong! Even as he boarded his flight, he left me with a funny story.

So, dear readers, that is our mama – someone who is full of stories has created a unique space in the literature of the hills.

As his journey continues and unfolds, let us take a moment to thank the Almighty for the gift of words that he gifted to Samsher Mama. Also to thank each other for being able to a part of his wonderful literary journey and life journey.

He now resides in the City of Joy – another home of literary giants. Hoping to read a lot more stories from his penmanship. *****