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 There are a good many people around us who are foolish but very much vain. Dinabandhu was like Death unto them. He never tried to resist their vanity. What was more, he would fan the flame of their vanity as best as he could. This would infatuate the fool, and Dinabandhu would then sit quietly watching his antics. Once in the hands of Dinabandhu such people never had an escape.

For some years past his gift for humour seemed to be on the decline. About a year ago one of his intimate friends said to him, "Dinabandhu, what about your humour? The fountain of your mirth has been drying up now, and you'll not live for long." "How d'ye know that?" were the only words Dinabandhu said, and the very next moment he fell absent-minded. One day it so happened that we spent the night together. On that night Dinabandhu made an effort to rekindle his humour. The effort was not all vain, for he held a good many of his friends under a spell up to about 3 o'clock in the morning. Who knew then it was his last flare ! After that incident we had occasions to spend days together, but never did we see him as lively and cheerful as on that night. His uncommon capacity for satirization, though gradually waning, was never really spent up. Even when he was in his deathbed we could notice it in him. It is known to many that boils brought about his death. The first one appeared on his back, and as soon as he was a little better another appeared on his seat, and then the third and last appeared on his left foot. At that time his friend mentioned above came down from his place to see Dinabandhu. Faintly smiling like the fading lightning of a distant cloud Dinabandhu muttered: "Boil has now fallen at my feet."

Every man has vanity in him, Dinabandhu had none. Every man has the element of anger in him, Dinabandhu had none. There was nothing about him that I did not know, but never did I find him in an angry mood. On several occasions I reminded him in a disapproving tone of the complete absence of anger in him with the result that he felt embarrassed that it was so. Or on being so reminded he made a great effort to feel angry and gave up, saying, "Well, I fail."

It can be said for certain that Dinabandhu never did one single dishonest act in his life. Not that his personality was particularly strong, and that was why he, at the request of his friends or under the influence of undesirable