My River

At last, I could meet my river.
How can someone meet a river? You perhaps doubt my sanity. Have I gone out of my mind?
I accept that the statement made is grammatically wrong but still,grammar has its limitations. You would claim one can see, find or at the most locate a river. Some illustrious persons used to discover rivers too but they did not leave one for me to discover. You can only meet people. How on earth can you meet a river?
The fact is, we, at this remote part of the Universe never took rivers as non-living, non-animated natural phenomena. Our poets,lyricist amd commoners,be they rich or poor ,over the years, engaged them into conversations, listened to their rumblings and asked them to take good care of us. Our oarsmen devised a mode of singing to the tune of river’s low tides and those folk songs came to be famous as Bhatiali throughout the world. The rivers remained, in our lives, as living as we all are. Some of them are mothers to us and some others, daughters.
So I am at liberty to meet any of the rivers of my choice the way I meet homo sepias.
I started listening to tales regarding this river, Padmam five and half decades back while I was yet to learn my alphabets. My loving Ma, who initiated me to the tales of the Ramayana, the Mahabharata,Thakurma’s Jhuli and bundles of ghost stories, had a fond memory and personal experience of the river Padma. She was the first one to explain that while the Ganges (Ma Ganga, as the way she referred) remains the serious caring mother to the people of our country, the Padma (Ma Padma once again) is more of a naughty, vibrant and restless daughter. But none the less she was very passionate of Padma. Ma seemed to be lost in past while talking of her childhood. She used to pick tales from her memory (her memory was as good and powerful as we have in modern day computers) and narrate in a manner which mesmerized the listeners.
She along with her family, while intending to go to Desher Bari (Ancestral House) used to board a train from Sealdah which took them to Goalando, the famous steamer port of the river. She pleasantly explained the size of those big steamers, (people used to call them Jahaj i,e ships ) and narrated the space and facilities available. Those steamers, powered by smoke emitting steam engines, used to take hours to cross the river. The passengers had no option but either to cook on board or try the eating house available in the steamer. The passengers whom I met showered praises on the mutton curry or hilsha (Ilish) they had there.Ma on her occasional visits was amazed by seeing the current, ups and downs, restlessness and prowess of the river. Padma on one hand created stretches of fertile lands and destroyed umpteen numbers of buildings and structures erected on her bank on the other. The river, thus, also famous with her other name “Kirtinasha” meaning the one who perishes human achievements.
Ma talked of the sporadic villages consisting of series of hutments and lush green coconut and banana trees covering the bank of the rivers. They could only be viewed while the steamers were approaching the shore. While the steamer drove through the mid-river and shores were far off, big passenger boats, named “Goinar Nouka”(decorated large boats) and fishermen on boat busy in arranging their catch of fishes were came to view.

Afterwards while compelled to read poems of Rabindranath in my early years, I found that Bangsibadan, the potter, along with nephew Madan in his bullock cart full of potteries preferred to head towards the weekly market located at Bakshigaunge,on the bank of Padma. I visualised the vast expand of the river , the greenery of it’s bank and the assembly of the rural crowds negotiating necessities. I felt envious of Madan, perhaps of my age then,who was so fortunate to stand so near to my river.
No way, I must meet my river, I resolved .Subsequent reading of the legendary novel, “Padma nadir majhi”( Manik Bandopadhaya) or listening Sachin Dev Burman’s cry “Padma’r Dhew rey…,only cemented by early resolution.
I am referring to mid fifties while people in general never planned to visit the eastern part of Bengal which just had been segregated from Bengal and became a part of Pakistan. In late seventies Bangladesh came into exist as a new nation and movement started.

Quite a few of my colleagues went to Bangladesh on business trips but I never had an opportunity. With the passing years while I was about to accept that my river would remain a distant dream two my elders took the initiative to visit Bangladesh.Both of them were born in that land while it was known Purba Bangla.(East Bengal).

Instantly I volunteered to be a sidekick.