A Transcendental Journey

Nidhu Bhusan Das :


On 13th, the second Tuesday of March 2012 in the early morning drizzle I along with my consort Bharati and younger daughter Kasturi started for Siliguri Junction to catch Kanchankanya Express train. At the station our family friend Radheshyamji received us. Kanchankanya bound for Alipurduar from Kolkata arrived on time at 8 a.m. We boarded the train. We were awaiting the moment when the train would be on its forest track. Within minutes, the train was on the track through shal and teak forests. This is the time when the trees shed leaves and the forests wear a bleak look. Yet we could smell the aroma and feel the pleasant breath of the giant trees as they stood erect heads held high in the forests stretching miles upon miles.Kasturi was so happy that she did not turn her face from the window, and even refused to have her breakfast lest she should miss the beauty for a moment. For anyone, I bet, this is a phantastic experience. The drizzle continued and, thus, added to the beauty of the forests, the gift of God.
Kasturi might have the reminiscence of her prenatal days and feeling of being in Eden. Bharati and our friend Radheshyamji were all praise for the beauty of the endless jungle. I began to think of the innocence of the savage place disturbed by the mechanical sound of the running train. The touch of our civilization split the natural forest. Once the habitat of wild animals, no such animal was in sight. Animals are scared of humans because we are equipped with technology which is the mark of our civilization. Civilization means encroachment on Nature, the cradle of flora and fauna. This thought saddened me, and in remorse I closed my eyes and went into reverie.
I was born in a village which was adorned with trees, plants, and grass and corn fields. Wild flowers would greet us when we were on roads or fields. I remember, on the day our school would go into a long summer vacation, we would garland our teachers, and the garlands were of fragrant wild flowers. We would play on the village common and had enough space to roam about. But things began to change when a jute mill was set up. People from different parts of the country poured in, a demographic and economic change brought about a disturbing change at the societal level. The traditional relations among the villagers began to crumble. Soon we turned urbanites at the cost of the simplicity of rural life, and its rusticity and innocence. I am 56. I have spent most of my time in urban centres. Yet I cannot forget the idyllic days of my childhood in my native village. I still remember my childhood friends and playmates. Some of them are no more in the world. But I cannot forget them. I fondly go back to our village where even poverty of some could not hinder the joy of living together in an atmosphere of empathy and tenderness.
Is it that savage places like the village of my childhood days and the forests through which our train runs are the abode of God? What does God stand for? Surely, God is innocence, beauty, grace and love incarnate. Kasturi is born in town. She in her own little way is tuned to the urban way of life. Yet she is happy in the world of Nature she is passing through. It is obvious this savage world is the source of joy for her. I feel I am like Kasturi, a child enjoying the presence of God in Nature. Are we animists? Call it as you like. I have no pain, no care, no fret or dizziness as I am in the midst of Nature. Here I hear the sound of wind, the rustle of dry leaves the chirping of birds and trumpet of elephants from far away. The harmony creates the primordial sound. They called me. The train stopped at Hasimara station, our destination for now. Kasturi’s smile was gone.