Where the Mind Is Without Fear
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by
narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depths of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the
dreary desert sands of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by Thee into ever-widening
thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
- Rabindranath Tagore
It was one afternoon in the summer of 2014, a couple of months after Baba’s passing, when Subhendu and I were packing stuff to move back into our own flat, that it suddenly struck us that we hadn’t taken a holiday together for over eight years. Almost instantly, plans were drawn up, and we decided to first visit Kolkata.
While in Kolkata visiting relatives, Ganushdidi, one of Subhendu’s favourite cousins, gave us the keys to her bungalow in Shantiniketan.
I had visited Tagore’s quaint university town once earlier, decades ago, but was quite happy to be visiting it again. Ganushdidi’s bungalow was technically not in Shantiniketan but in Prantik, the station after Bolpur Shantiniketan, which was where one got off to go to the university area.
Prantik has a more planned outlay with beautiful bungalows dotting its landscape. It is also a couple of kilometres away from the university campus.
We stayed in Didi’s pretty-as-a-picture red bungalow for a week before returning home to Mumbai. That week was the game-changer in our lives.
The person who heralded this change was Tenida. A builder by profession, Tenida lived in Kolkata, but his heart belonged to Shantiniketan. Not only did he visit Shantiniketan frequently, but he was also closely involved in the working of a tribal school. Tenida was a close friend of another cousin who had requested him to show us around since he was also visiting at the same time.
THE APPEAL OF SHANTINIKETAN
Shantiniketan is the hub of literature, music, dance and art. A melting pot where cultures from across the world come and merge into the Rabindrik consciousness. Many, like Mrs Indira Gandhi, came, studied and went back. Many like Ramkinkar Baij, sculptor and painter, and one of the pioneers of modern Indian sculpture, studied in Shantiniketan and stayed on to teach in its sculpture department and later head it.
Other greats also adorn the history of Shantiniketan. Like Nandalal Bose, another pioneer of modern Indian art, who with his team of artists from Shantiniketan, had illustrated every page of the Indian Constitution. He had been invited by Tagore to head the Kala Bhavan – Shantiniketan’s art school in the ’20s.
Or KG Subramanyan, the renowned artist who studied in Shantiniketan and stayed on to teach in its art college.
These are not just ramblings of a glorious past but inspirations that have prompted many to build their lives around Shantiniketan today.
Like Dr Martin Kampchen who came to Shantiniketan nearly 40 years ago to pursue his PhD but continued to stay on in this town. Over the years, with his close association with the tribal villages, he helped build a tribal school at Ghoshaldanga, some 8 km away from the campus.
Or Rahul Bose (not the actor) and his wife Kirsty Milward, who formed the Uttar Chandipur Community Society, in Chandipur a few kilometres away from the campus.
The literacy project of the society, named Suchana, was started in 2004 as a pre-school initiative for the tribal villages that surrounded the school. Now Suchana has several hundred students, a mobile library and computer literacy class.
Then there’s Keya Sarkar, an ex-Mumbaikar with roots in Shantiniketan who came back and started Alcha. This handicraft boutique showcases some of the best art and craft of Shantiniketan.
Or Lipi Biswas, the renowned potter who has made Shantiniketan her home along with her artist-architect husband Bidyut Roy who specialises in mud architecture.
Lipi and her family live in a house-cum-studio built by her husband right next to a tribal village, Boner Pukur. With the urge to create a sense of responsibility in the urban psyche towards respecting tribal arts and integrating it into the modern lifescape, she worked with village potters sharing her modern knowledge with them and learning how they made indigenous glazes from locally available material.
LIFE IN SHANTINIKETAN
Subhendu and I returned home to Mumbai after a week, in a stupor. We couldn’t wait to get back. The next six months were spent hunting for a house in Shantiniketan. Thanks to OLX, Quikr and some such, properties in Shantiniketan were regularly listed. Finally, out of the blue, we found our dream house. A beautiful ground floor apartment of a two-storey bungalow set in 28,000 sq feet area of lush greenery that included five mango trees, hundreds of flowering plants, a jackfruit tree, a bel tree, a Jamrul tree and a bamboo garden. To add to the charm was a well, safely covered with a jaali and a cosy outhouse cottage.
It has been five years now since we moved in, leaving behind a busy city life.
Life has taken a 360-degree turn. All the rats have scampered away from the rat race. Others, friends and family, felt I had hopped on to a bullock cart for the ride of my lifetime, but it isn’t as purposeless a ride as it appears. I’m not an artist, nor do I have artistic aspirations. So I can’t really contribute to the wonderful societal changes everyone around me appears to be making, but this ride is nonetheless special.
I can sit in my portico like verandah and stare into the green for hours. In Mumbai, the only birds I saw were the crow, the sparrow, the pigeon and the occasional parrot. Here I can stare, jaw slackened, at the variety of startlingly beautiful birds that come visiting. And the skies...so clear...so blue...much like what you are seeing in the cities only now, post the pandemic.
Evening drives are short...no highways here to zoom through...but into the local villages, wherein the thick shrubs and dense trees, I spot fireflies -- one, two and sometimes even a dozen.
No CCD, no McDonald’s, no Smokin Joes here, but in the darkness of Sonarjhuri woods, is a thatched mud house with the tribal boudi selling chai in kulhads and steaming hot alur chop and shingara (samosas) straight off her kadai.
Lots of street food here too. Pani Puri or puchkas are a given. The puchkawallas are known by their names. Or muri with chop. Muri is kurmura: chop is a pakoda -- the variety boggles the mind. From alu to capsicum to tomato to padwal...there is a MasterChef lurking in every nukkad.
And work? What do you do in a place like this? Is there work? Is there money? Depends. Yes, there’s work. And there’s money. After all, this is the place where creativity is like a fountainhead. Merchandisers from top brands come sourcing for their products here — both national and international.
As for us, we are doing a bit of this and that. I used to teach as a visiting lecturer in a couple of colleges in Mumbai. Here I helped the local police in their endeavour to start a bridge school in their premise to teach children from neighbouring clusters. Heartwarming and engaging.
Then there is this small group of women artisans, kantha stitch embroiderers who work with me. I started an online business, with their support. Of course, now, it’s not just Shantiniketan or West Bengal. We are sourcing from weavers across the country, but everything is brought here, embellished, and then packed and sent off. So little bit of work and a little bit of play.
Subhendu is rediscovering himself. Joined a two year Rabindra Sangeet course in Viswa Bharati, topped it and is sitting smugly. Then, taking advantage of the huge space, he has got into growing vegetables, of course, with the help of our very competent gardener Ramesh. While in Mumbai, he was deeply into hydroponics, and I had bhindis growing next to my bed. Here, though he started with hydroponics, participated in a Krishi Mela and even conducted a couple of workshops, what’s really driving him now is the hundred per cent organically grown vegetables.
The compost is made of home waste and some other gobar concoction, the details of which I’ve never asked. So every second day we harvest our own produce. Small, but enough.
GURUDEV’S BIRTHDAY
May 7 or ‘Pochishe Baisakh’ is Gurudev’s birthday. At other times, Shantiniketan would be abuzz with people. Visitors trooping in and the students and various departments of the university planning programmes and events for the day. The ‘Kanch Ghar’ or the ‘Glass House’ which is basically the upasana grih or prayer hall of the ashramites, would have music programmes through the day. This time, perhaps for the first time in the history of Shantiniketan, there may not be any such programme. But am quite certain Tagore’s song He Nutan... written by him to celebrate his birthday will resonate in the minds and homes of those who love and revere him.
(Shantiniketan is actually spelt as Santiniketan. The ‘h’ has been added to aid in the pronunciation.)
