Books
AMADER
SHANTINIKETAN by Shivani (translated
by Ira Pande). Vintage Books, Penguin, Delhi, 2021.
Amader
Shantiniketan
is not a book to borrow and return. It is a book to be kept within reach and
revisited frequently, such is the magic and charm of its narration. The text
has been arranged like a diptych. The first part contains the reminiscences of
translator Ira PandeÕs mother, eminent Hindi writer,
ShivaniÕs years spent in Shantiniketan (1935-1944);
while the second is a collection of tributes dedicated to some of her ashram
contemporaries. The shared experiences bind the two sections together.
The
importance of this slim volume is totally disproportionate to its size.At one level, it is the voice
of a naive and innocent girl, who was admitted into the Patha
Bhaban or primary section of Rabindranath TagoreÕs phenomenal recreation of the
gurukul in a remote corner of Bengal. At another, it is a first hand and
authentic documentation of a unique experiment in pedagogy, cosmopolitanism,
Ōcultural cross-pollinationÕ and social equality. Yet it is neither heavy nor
pedantic. It reflects a childÕs bemusement and the intimacy and warmth of the
tone suggests letters from a friend allowing entry into what appears to be an
almost Utopian world. Every image is evocatively imbued with delight and
immediacy.
There
is no strict chronological timeline; the reader follows ShivaniÕs journey from
twelve to twenty one. There is an almost cinematic quality to the way she tells
her story. We can actually hear the melody of a Santhal flute or see a squirrel
scamper across a branch.
Shivani
is mischievous, intelligent, outspoken and always ready to embark on a new
adventure. There is a hilarious account of an uprising against the ubiquitous ŌpotolÕ (pointed gourd) in the student mess with posters
painted by Jaya Appasamy, the problem being finally
resolved by Tagore himself. Another is her response to a chauvinist matrimonial
ad in the Tribune; or her coaxing of Tagore to write an appreciation of
a poem by Keats which fetched a dismal four out of ten from the English
teacher.
GandhiÕs
birthday was a day of reverence and reflection at the ashram.The
support staff was given the day off and the children cooked, swept and cleaned
the toilets. In the evening, kabaddi and khokho
matches were arranged for the staff.
Shivani
paints outstanding portraits of her teachers. They were not merely intellectual
giants, but they believed in TagoreÕs ideal of simple living and universal
learning. Thus, the Hindi scholar, Hajari Prasad
Dwivedi, would assemble the children and point out the marvels in the sky, the
Great Bear and the Milky Way. There was deep trust and love between the
students and teachers. They chided Hajari Prasad when
he grew a beard, caring little for his protests that he had painful boils on
his face. They enjoyed freedom, but it was this very freedom that taught them
self-control and discipline.
There
are sensuous descriptions of all manners of food. The simple act of making a
duckÕs egg omelette at a rural market becomes a story
in itself.
If
you did not know that Shivani was a writer, you could almost believe that you
were reading the memoirs of an eminent singer. Music infuses the book, it finds
its way on every page. Even the cook from Chhapra, Sarju Maharaj, would finish making dinner at 5 pm so that
he could join the rehearsals of TagoreÕs famous dance dramas. Kshiti Mohan Sen prophesied a great future for her as a
singer, but life took her in another direction.
It
would, perhaps, help this part of the book to have a dramatis personae of the
various featured characters. RabindranathÕs son, RathindraÕs
wife was called Pratima. She was his only daughter-in-law and was known
universally as Bouthan in the ashram. Shivani,
however, refers to an Amitadi as his daughter-in-law.
Amita was the daughter-in-law of Dwijendranath
Tagore. Later in the book, Shivani reverts to the name Pratima. The
granddaughters were Pupe (Nandini) from his sonÕs
side and Nandita from his daughter MeeraÕs side.But
since these clarifications are not made, the reader may find it difficult to
make the necessary connections.
Friends
and Others in Part II has a far more sombre, almost
melancholic note. Satyajit Ray is the most famous subject, but it is her
accounts of Bhagwati Dwivedi and her older sister, Jayanti that stand out in
the wealth of the descriptive details of their various interactions. BhagwatiÕs
portrayal powerfully brings to life the disillusionment suffered by these
stalwarts once they stepped outside the gates of Shantiniketan.
Much of the essay on Bhagwati deals with the bureaucratic shackles that bound
and finally snuffed the life out of her husband, Hajari
Prasad. There are others in Part I, such as the once-powerful figure of Rani
Chanda, sitting Miss Havisham like in her dusty sitting room, waiting for death
to claim her. It is this fearlessness and philosophy that gives ShivaniÕs book
profundity and permanence. She does not shy away from loss but points to the
beauty of renewal.
The
translated language is so fluid and lilting that you forget it is not the
original language of the text. Shantiniketan inspires
the reader to return to Ira PandeÕs previous
translations of two others of her motherÕs works.
We
live in an increasingly divided world of a cynical mockery of TagoreÕs values
of secularism and respect for difference.This book
could not have come at a better time as a reminder of a lifelong commitment to
humanity and inclusiveness. It deserves to be read and recommended widely and
could well become the starting point of a discussion on whether education could
not be made more liberal and emancipating again.
Behula Chowdhury
Former Senior History Teacher
La Martiniere for Girls,
Kolkata