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22Ân nË¡hZ, 1410

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 KHOAI 

Mou Chakraborty

Nostalgia

Santiniketan and Visva Bharati were supposed to be Rabindranath’s experiment with education.  It was almost a personal dream set out to achieve and touch all those who participate in it.  While the poet himself has always been an icon of cultural and literary heritage, the university today in many ways lingers on mediocrity.  I am no education major but I think the Poet’s idea was one of total education, a complete awareness of all that is around us and an education which was supposed to be more about understanding our environment and nature, the people around us and to prepare the students to go through life with a true understanding of what really mattered.  Originally there was no conferring of degrees of any kind, however with time this changed.  
The Tagorian name lives on, the rituals and the customs linger on with some or little changes but one has to really look beyond the veneer of what Santiniketan is today to find Tagore.  

Seven years at this place and I call it my second home.  That gives me the prerogative to be critical of the place and yet love it to distraction.  Santiniketan in many ways is no different than a university elsewhere, but then in spite of those common threads there is a little something that gives the place its unique character.  Perhaps there was much more in the days of yore, I have heard every alumni vouch to say that things were well… different when he or she was around.  The truth is Santiniketan although so very insular and so very oblivious of a lot of the outer world, is also in a process of flux.  It would be weird if it were not.  It is up to you what you wish to see –the scooter and motorbikes and trendy little souvenir stalls are all there.  A stop for all the local site seeing tourist buses that promise to deliver the three “thakurs” – kali thakur at Tarapith, shib thakur at Bakreshwar and…yes the obvious.  
The santhal villages still surround the area, the salbithi still rustles in the autumn, the natyaghar houses the sharod-utsav and the teachers at least many of them are still closer to the student’s hearts than to their grades alone.  The little tykes at Ananda pathshala roam around with the teachers for prakriti path, the poetry readings at Udayan or cha chakra also continue.  The sculptures of Ramkinkar still stand sentry at the kalabhavan premises.  
Like many other places Santiniketan is also struggling to create a new identity.

I remember the first thing that I was awed by at Santiniketan was the brush with literary and cultural celebrities.  This was a place where it was all right not to aspire to be a doctor or an engineer, which was the typical dream of the good students I knew at school.  I remember a student of Kala bhavan once gave me a very eloquent defense of art in a friendly discussion about the utility and role of an artist in the society.  Lets just say it was a long discussion over many many teacups that left me mesmerized.  What I am trying to say is that this place holds validation for literature and culture and in today’s competitive world that’s a rare bird. 

I think I will get a little personal here and talk about a favorite memory.  On a sweaty and humid afternoon when we sat at Khoai – we once met mani da – subhramaniyam mani  - the well-known painter and teacher at kalabhavan.  He came up closer and stopped.  In the middle of some small talk he asked   - So  - do you come here often - what do you see? Someone piped up – nothing much, we are just chatting.  He slowly responded – yes, you are too young, when you leave this place maybe then you will see… 

We dismissed this as a casual muttering then but now I think I understand what he meant. Away from Santiniketan, I now think of those stretches at Khoai with a longing that is almost a desire for another life.  Khoai now is so alive, not just scenic and beautiful but a part of a life that breathes and seems more normal than my everyday mundane existence consumed with my own insignificance.  It’s a life that almost makes sense  - it’s the world I could have had and lost.

To be continued....

3u pwMÉ¡, 2003