ALSphere Foundation
I travel twenty-seven years back in time. But tit seems like yesterday once more. Baba was alive then. He passed away in 2005.
Our small house at Santiniketan, with a very big garden, can, quite truthfully, be called our own garden house. Our gazebo built at the very center of the circumference had borne witness to many impromptu gatherings – of people, of minds, and also of emotions. One such occasion was the day of Dol Purnima, observed elsewhere as Holi. Our garden has plenty of greenery – trees, hedges, shrubs – and flowers of spring bloom there like wildfire during this time. One such flower is called Raat Ki Rani. One of our guests had pointed out the flower to me. The flower emanates a very sweet and intoxicating fragrance, once you come near it.
But the memorable summer night had been one when the poet Shakti Chattopadhay had come visiting our house there on Dol Purnima. Very few people know that he was as passionate in his singing of Tagorean lyrics as he was in his writing. We had gone to the Basanta Utsav which is observed every year at Santiniketan within the University area. And the evening was devoted to an impromptu soiree at our gazebo.
The full moon had spread magic all over our garden. The charm of the moonlit night was accentuated by the renowned poet’s presence, as he was close to Baba as well. Little did I realize how great an impact that particular summer night was to have on my psyche. Now that I have turned to write on a serious note, it’s time to thank the poet whose poems in Bengali like “Hemanter Aranye Ami Postman” [ In the Autumn Wilderness, I am Postman] had created a furor in the literary firmament. That summer night had been so memorable to me. The poet had breathed his last a couple of days soon afterward.
