Just like many of us, I was first introduced to Rabindranath Tagore
during the early school years. Tagore - the poet who penned our
National Anthem.
As I progressed to
the higher classes, I got another glimpse of Tagore in my history text
books, as one of the leaders in our struggle for independence. Every
academic year as I read and studied about him, his stories and his many
poems, his Shantiniketan, where students were freed from the confines
of a classroom to study under a blue sky, in the shade of a
tree........he made a place in my heart. The image of him - of the
affable grandfatherly figure, with his flowing hair, a flowing beard ,
attired in a flowing robe - only added a liberal dose of affection to
the admiration I already had for him.
That year, the spouse had a busy work schedule and he was travelling a lot. A family vacation seemed like an impossible thought. So we thought of making the best of a worst situation and decided to travel with him. A business cum pleasure trip...business for him and pleasure for us. The thought took root and it felt just right.
That year, the spouse had a busy work schedule and he was travelling a lot. A family vacation seemed like an impossible thought. So we thought of making the best of a worst situation and decided to travel with him. A business cum pleasure trip...business for him and pleasure for us. The thought took root and it felt just right.
He
had to travel to Bhubaneshwar and Kolkatta, that week... 3 days in
Bhubaneshwar and 2 in Kolkatta. I had been to Bhubaneshwar before, but
never to Kolkata. The daughter hadn't been to either. Bhubaneshwar and Kolkatta beckoned!
I
listed all the 'must see places', and the 'must do activities' I had
read about on travel and food blogs and had bookmarked for Kolkata....a
metro ride.. a tram ride..The Museum, Dakshineshwar, Kalighat, the
Marble Palace, Victoria Memorial, Howrah bridge, Bankura, Vidyasagar setu,
terracotta temples of Bishnupur, Shantiniketan.. I had to visit
Gangurams'and K C Das to gorge on rosogullas, chamcham, singada,
koraishutir kochuri... Flurry's for the pastries. Jhalmuri. and puchka
from a stall outside Dakshinapan. Gariahat and Dakshinapan to buy a
couple of tangails, jamdani and kantha... I had it all planned. And
yes, now that I was visiting Kolkata, I had to visit the Thakurbari -
Tagore's residence in Jorasanko.
Two
days seemed too little a time to tackle my list, yet we managed to
tick off quite a few items off it. The rest, I reserved for another
time.
In
Kolkata, while the husband went out on his official engagement, the
daughter and I set out on our own. Jorasangko was our first
destination.
Kolkata's
yellow ambassador cab fleet is a delight when compared with the Kaali
Peeli of 'aapli' Mumbai, where you hail and request half a dozen cabs,
till you find the one 'bhaisaab' who will agree to take you to your
destination. In Kolkata, we just flagged down a passing cab and gave
him our destination. Simple it was !
Jorasangko
was about 20 minutes away from our hotel. The roads we took, reminded
me of the streets of old Mumbai..Lower Parel, Charni Road and even
Kalbadevi. Driving past a few lanes and by - lanes, we found ourselves
outside the imposing Thakurbari. A red structure nestled amidst the
greenery.
Thakurbari which was home to Rabindranath Tagore is now the Rabindra Bharati Museum.
Towards
the left of the building is an office where you buy the entry passes
and also lock away your bags, phones and cameras in a locker. For a
while I was upset with the No Photography rule.. but later I was to
realize that there is so much you notice and remember in your mind's
eye, the camera is almost rendered redundant.
As
we entered the office...we could hear the strains of Rabindra
Sangeet. Melodious, with an underlying note of melancholy, a longing.
Something tugged at the heart.
We
left our slippers outside the office and ascended the staircase leading
to the first floor. It was the hallowed precincts of the Tagore's
home, I was stepping into a rich past... a history !
For
a bari which is really huge, the rooms inside seem pretty small to
me. The bari is now empty and silent and I could only imagine it
bustling with life... teeming with the family members.... their joys,
their sorrows as they went through the routines of each day.
A
wide verandah runs outside all rooms on both sides. One, overlooks
the street beyond the garden and another verandah running outside the
same rooms on the other side, overlooks the courtyard nestled below.
The ceilings are high. Green slatted shutters keep out the harsh
sunlight in the verandah, while the lattice work on the railing adds a touch of the delicate to the otherwise sturdy structure.
The
Rabindra Bharati Museum is a treasure trove of moments associated with
Tagore...photographs, paintings, personal items. There are innumerable
unseen picture frames of him as a child, as a wiry young man in western
formals and then the gentle looking paternal figure we remember him
as. Also pictures of him with his parents and siblings and then
pictures of his as a family man, accompanied by his wife and his
children. One has rarely seen these images and for most of us these
are facets of him which we are not very familiar with.
There
are rooms where Tagore's robes as on display in a glass cabinet..the
Tagore family dinnerware in another. There is a maternity room, on one
side, where a new mother and her newborn probably spent their time in
confinement. At various places in the verandah and inside the rooms are
placed little placards with extracts from his Reminiscences. It gives a
feeling of Tagore personally sharing an anecdote or a sentiment with
you.
There is a gallery which houses
several paintings in a controlled environment. There are the
oils..portraits mostly, framed in huge gilded frames. There are
paintings made by family members. On display in a glass cabinet are a
painting palette - aesthetically shaped like a flower, brushes and
paints used by the artists in the family. The little tins of
watercolors - an Indian Red and a Vandyke Brown, bear the name of the
company Winsor Newton Ltd, Rathbone Place, London
There
is a particularly beautiful watercolour by Sushil Sen, depicting the
immersion of Devi after the Pujo. The idol is mounted on 2 boats and
is being taken into the water. Among the details painted in the frame
are the dhakis , the crowds, an idol seller, a vendor selling the
kitchen equipment.. cutting blades, ladles.. There is a delicate
transparency in this water colour.
Rabindranath
Tagore, it is said, took up painting late in his lifetime, and yet
produced an impressive body of work. Of his art and about his
paintings, he writes, "People often ask me about the
meaning of my pictures. I remain silent even as my pictures are. They
have nothing ulterior behind their own appearance.for the thoughts to
explore and words to describe and if that appeanrance caries its
ultimate worth there they remain otherwise they are rejected and
forgotten even though they may have some scientific truth or ethical
justification."
A
huge room, displays photographs of Rabindranath Tagore with eminent
personalities of the time like Einstein and the very beautiful Hellen
Keller. There are other pictures of him with Netaji Subhashchandra
Bose, Khan Abdul Ghafar Khan, Sarojini Naidu, Sarat Chandra
Chattopadhyay, W C Bannerjee Firoz Shah Mehta, J C Bose. These
photographs which portray their interaction and engagement with each
other, somehow make the people in these images come to life, make them
feel more real. One has been so used to seeing their one dimensional
staid pictures in academic books....these pictures bring the people a
notch closer to the observer's heart.
Tagore's study, is a corner room, shaded by the trees outside. The comfortable, lived in wooden furniture adds to the cosiness of this room. The marble top of the writing table has dark marks of lead all over it. I wondered , "so this is where he wrote and sketched !"
Another smallish room is the living room of Mrinalini Devi, wife of Rabindranath Tagore. A mirror and a dark Neelambari saree which once belonged to her, now left behind in that room.....it is an almost eerie feeling.
The exhibits in this room portray Tagore as the much married man. He married Mrinalaini Devi on 24th August 1883 and had penned his own wedding invite on this occasion. There are photographs of him with his coiffured hair, posing with his wife and pictures of the couple with their children - Samindranath, Madhurilata, Renuka, Mira and Rathindranath.
A postcard addressed to Mrinalini Devi by an excited Tagore from atop the Eiffel Tower in Paris, is displayed on a wall. The stamp shows the date as September 1890. The post card in his handwriting is addressed to
Mrs R Tagore
6 Dwarkanath Tagore's Lane
Jorasanko
Calcutta
India
Tagore's study, is a corner room, shaded by the trees outside. The comfortable, lived in wooden furniture adds to the cosiness of this room. The marble top of the writing table has dark marks of lead all over it. I wondered , "so this is where he wrote and sketched !"
Another smallish room is the living room of Mrinalini Devi, wife of Rabindranath Tagore. A mirror and a dark Neelambari saree which once belonged to her, now left behind in that room.....it is an almost eerie feeling.
The exhibits in this room portray Tagore as the much married man. He married Mrinalaini Devi on 24th August 1883 and had penned his own wedding invite on this occasion. There are photographs of him with his coiffured hair, posing with his wife and pictures of the couple with their children - Samindranath, Madhurilata, Renuka, Mira and Rathindranath.
A postcard addressed to Mrinalini Devi by an excited Tagore from atop the Eiffel Tower in Paris, is displayed on a wall. The stamp shows the date as September 1890. The post card in his handwriting is addressed to
Mrs R Tagore
6 Dwarkanath Tagore's Lane
Jorasanko
Calcutta
India
Mrinalini Devi passed away in 1902, their daughter Renuka in 1903 and son Samindra in 1907.
Another
room, a bed occupying much of the space, the mattress covered with a
white sheet... Photographs of a very frail Tagore in his bed, ailing , and then a picture of his last journey. On the wall, a
placard bears the words :
“When I leave from hence let this be my
parting word that what I have seen is unsurpassable. I have tasted of
the hidden honey of this lotus yonder that expands on the ocean of light
and thus am I blessed, let this be my parting word. In this playhouse
of infinite forms I have had my play and here have I caught sight of him
that eludes all forms. All my living body and limbs have thrilled with
his touch who is beyond touch-and if the end comes here let it come-let
this be my parting word.”
I couldn't hold back my tears.
This
then is the Thakurbari, of the Thakurs of Jorasanko , where
Rabindranath was born on 7th May 1861 . This is where he lived and
this is where he breathed his last on August 7 1941. This is where we
acquaint ourselves with the person he was.....in the intimate
environment of his home.
Thakurbari...A living museum.
