Tithi, my strong but silent friend, is now still forever

Her trademark smile: 18.6.24

A tribute to my dear friend Tithi (Monjari Barooah) who passed on the 3rd July 2025, after a 14-month struggle with a deadly disease.
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A lesser known version of Rajasthan

The most touristy thing we did on this trip

Our annual road trip this time was to  Rajasthan -- yes, it was in Jan-Feb this time and  not in November and yes, it was much shorter than the usual three weeks, we did what we could, but at the end of the two weeks we had covered 3342 kilometers which is about the same if not a little more than what we had done in our annual forays lasting about three weeks in previous years. We drove a lot but all that driving was enough only to discover a very tiny part of that large, beautiful, colourful and extremely attractive state. 

There were essentially three cities we planned our trip around this time -- Bikaner, Jaisalmer and Jodhpur. But we also got to experience some parts of Rajasthan that tourists normally do not have time for. We saw many imposing but abandoned hawelis, huge but deserted villages, breathtakingly beautiful architecture and exquisite frescoes, pretty lakes, vast desert landscapes and much more... Also, it was the first time I felt that while on a road trip, the journey itself is what was special, much more than the destination. Looking out of the window of our Kia Seltos into the endless desert sand dunes and the scruffy green-gold landscape filled with low bushes and thorny shrubs, one could experience not just the magnificence of it all, but also the pettiness and meaninglessness of so many of our earthly ambitions...

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Back again in Germany at springtime

I don't have a lot to say right now....because just as I was planning to write a happy post about the lovely things I saw during a forest walk in the Eifel the other day, terror struck in Pahalgam and killed so many innocent people that I am terrified, terrified even to be happy. Terrified to say that this world is in order because my world back home is not in order. How could it be when so many people were killed needlessly by a bunch of terrorists who have no religion, no country, no God, or perhaps that is wrong, perhaps hate is their religion, their country, their God... who can say...

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Reckoning with death

Two deaths in the last days have shaken me up. The first was the death of my teacher from Gauhati University Professor B.P. Chetiya and then a day later Biren Datta Sir's baideo. I was not in direct contact with either of them in recent times. They were both ailing for some time. So the deaths were not unexpected. But still these two deaths have affected me in ways that I cannot explain at the moment. Let me try to put the facts down here and try to understand what happened.
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Travelling in God's own country

The three of us at the Padmanabha-
-swami Temple in Trivandrum

Kerala has been on my bucket-list for a very long time. So when Jaynee, my British friend from Leeds, UK, mooted the idea of travelling to Kerala and doing a trip together of the main sights, I was excited. Yesssss! Here are some thoughts on the 10-day trip that Jaynee, her husband Dugald, and I did starting at Trivandrum and ending at Cochin on Diwali day 2024. Our actual travel itinerary* is at the very end. 
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A weekend trip to the Land of the Thunder Dragon

These days it takes less than three hours of driving to get to Bhutan from Guwahati, yet I had never been there. So this weekend, Prabin da, Manjushree bou and I set off to Sangrup Jhonkar, which was supposed to be a very pretty place in the Bhutan hills. And since we wanted to make the most of the two days on hand we decided to take a long detour to Sangrup Khonkar and go via the scenic spot of Daragaon on the Diring river beyond Mushalpur and Nikashi. Here is the account of our trip.

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A dark week that only got darker...

Has it happened to you too? Everything is fine, till suddenly one by one, bad and worrying things start piling up, and before you know it, you are neck deep in sad and painful things....everywhere you look there is trouble lurking... and when you shut your eyes the only colour you see is black...

Over time some problems get resolved, but then new ones take their place... the general darkness takes a while to lift...

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My personal journey: existential questions

Last of the seven part story about my life in Germany and in India

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Easter festivities in Wuerzburg

In part 5, I write about the expereince of again being in Germany in spring, after a gap of a few years.

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Handwork in Germany/India

The second full day in Germany, handwork musings

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Indologists and friendship

The first full day in Würzburg after getting back. Anna calls, Cornelia drops by..

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Geeting used to being in Germany again

The first few hours after getting back to Germany this spring...

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Some days are charmed

If something goes right first thing in the morning, or there is some good news when you first look at your messages, then there is bound to be more good news before the day is over. Yesterday was one such day.

It began with the news that Apurba Sharma Sir had agreed to be the Chief Guest of the next 'Bhal Khoboror Din' on 1 Jan. 2024. He had kept us waiting for nearly two weeks and we were a little worried about how we would find another speaker in case he turned down our request. So his confirmation came as a huge relief. And I told myself -- today could be my Bhal khoboror Din -- and that is what it turned out to be.

First I finished writing my travel blog that I had been working on for the last week. But I realised that we had no photos of the amazing claypot restaurant we had eaten in in Thanjavur. So I wrote to the owner. And low and behold, he replied almost immediately -- yes, he did remember 'the two brave ladies' [his words], and of course he would send me some photos of his restaurant once the lunchtime rush was over. And he did.

Next stop at the tailor, and contrary to usual practice, she had everything ready on time! How unusual! 

Nothing very big, but it is these small things that make so much of a difference.

I wsa dreading the next step as I was having trouble with a shop-tenant and had to go to the local police station to discuss what to do with the police. I had imagined they would make me wait and would be rude and brash as ever, but no, we did not have to wait and the person I spoke to was polite and helpful and gave me good advice. What a dream run I was having...

Once you have had it so good till mid afternoon, you imagine that your luck would slowly run out. So I was worried about driving to Kalakhetra in the evening to watch a play. The play, directed by the renowned Nayan Prasad and the text based on Dr. Bhaben Saikia's translation of the famous 'An Inspector Calls' by J.B. Priestley, was a real treat to watch. I am usually a little diffident about driving in the dark and about being able to park and reverse my car in crowded placed. But today everything worked nicely. The rest of it worked well as well -- there was not much traffic, we got a good parking space and also good seats, and the play itself was excellent. In the end it turned out to be a very pleasant outing with friends. 

I drove back towards Panchabati, and thought it best not to stop as it was getting late. But what was that -- I saw the shutter of the shop with the troublesome tenant open although it was past nine in the evening. What was going on? I stopped the car and went towards the shop. What could be happening? Maybe the defaulting tenant was back again and making trouble. But no, that tenant was not in sight. It was my caretaker and chowkidar; the tenant had given them the keys to the shop a little earlier, they had tried the keys and opened the shutters to check that everything was fine.  Then they proceeded to lock the shop with our own locks. The shop was ours again! So a problem that had persisted nearly all the time since Ma left was suddently over. The fellow had about 2 lakhs in rent still to pay, but at least the shop was back in our hands again. What wonderful news!

I was humming lightly as I drove back to Kharghuli. It was past nine-thirty, my normal bed-time. As I looked at my phone (which had been on silent all the while since the start of the play). There were three missed calls from Arupa Baidew. Was it too late to call back? I would take a chance. She received my call and told me that she had called only to tell me that she was dedicating her latest book to me! I did not know what to say...felt like crying in joy...

That was a description of a Bhal khoboror Din for me...

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Chatting with Jayantada

Excerpts from my Whatsapp conversations with Jayantadada since the 2020 Covid lockdown. 

Photo taken by Bisheshwar Das in Jayantada's home 'Chandrabhaga' in Tinkonia Bagicha, Cuttack on 9th April 2023, my last meeting with Jayantada.

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Four summer months spent with friends in Germany

Lyubov and me in Limerick

These last four months in Wuerzburg this summer went by very quickly, almost too quickly. What is more, many things -- both good and bad -- have happened in that time, and have left me rather out of breath. But I have realised, all over again, that I am very lucky in my friends. More about all that below:

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To Jayantada, from Dublin, with love

Photo credit: Bishweshwar Das

Jayantada (the renowned poet Jayanta Mahapatra) left us for ever on the evening of Sunday, 27th August 2023. I was in Cork then. I went numb. My flight back to Germany on Monday the 28th August was cancelled and I suddenly found myself in Dublin on Tuesday, the 29th August, with nothing else to do but wander around, while waiting for the flight rescheduled for Wednesday. This is what I saw that day, in the company of a lovely Finnish woman, whose flight was also rescheduled. I wrote the poem at 2 a.m. on the night between Tuesday and Wednesday... Talking to Jayantada helped.... here it is...

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Beauty that heals; and some thoughts to ponder on

As luck would have it, I have been to a few places in the last few weeks that have filled my heart with a kind of joy that only naturally beautiful and old places and objects can give... First I spent a wonderful day in the beautiful north German town of Lübeck where the exquisitely beautiful hofs (inner courtyards) of many old but newly restored apartment complexes made me jump with joy... 

Following closely on that trip came a visit to the quaint little city of Hannoversch Münden, where the rivers Fulda and Werra join to become the river Weser. The beauty of the half timbered houses of that ancient city and the natural beauty of the area around the 'Weserstein' (the Weser Stone on which is inscribed a lovely verse about the rivers, more about that later)  are unparalleled. I have to write about those two places if only to show you some photos to prove my claim.  

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They don't come any fairer!

I had not finished saying farewell to my lovely friend Srutimala Duara when disaster struck again, and this time took away from us our beloved Deepika Phukan baideo. If the too early departure of a bright, beautiful and vivacious human being that Sruti was has stunned and numbed me, Deepika Baideo's going was perhaps less unexpected but has left me feeling like an orphan, all over again.  And now, as I sit at my desk trying to make sense of these goings, I understand more clearly than ever before our transience in this world we temporarily inhabit. Nobody is a survivor, Sruti had rightly said, for in the end nobody will survive the condition of being alive. 

 But then why is it so hard to say goodbye?

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Too many deaths

There has been too many deaths these last months of people who I was close to -- it began with Neelda's going last October. Then  Nilmoni Phukan khura in January, followed by Srutimala Duara, and Deepika Phukan in February and March... among many others...Some were sick and ailing, some were old and frail, but still...

Why is it so hard to say goodbye?

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From Goa by road through Karnataka

 Hema and I had done a similar 3-week long road trip before, in November 2020, through Central India. This time our stops   were Goa (1N), Dandeli (1N), Hampi (4N),   Chitradurga (2N), Shimoga (4N), Chikmaglur (4N),   Udupi (3N), Kumta (2N) and Goa (3N). But    this 24-day trip (covering more than 3500 kms) through western Karnataka north of Mangalore,   starting and ending at Goa, was different. 

 For one, there was no Covid which made its presence significantly felt by its very absence. But still. we made a few rules for us, and tried to keep to them -- no driving at night as far as possible, and trying to avoid big cities, and staying in homestays rather than hotels, wherever possible. 

Without the fear of Covid looming large over us, the logistics was much easier this time.  Everything was open, the roads were full, the towns and cities were bustling with activity. But precisely because of that, we knew that driving around would be a bigger challenge than last time. So we chose a much shorter route, so that no single journey from one stop to the next was more than 200 kms. But we had not factored in the many long and winding day trips we made at each halt. So in the end we landed up having driven more than 3500 kms, almost 1000 kms more than last time. Like last time, 24 days; like last time, Hema drove, but this time the car was different. This time we had a Hyundai Creta that Hema's son Shamir very kindly lent us. And that car held up and did not let us down, even once. No punctures, no getting stuck in the mud, no refusing to start, although we made it do some pretty tortuous journeys and although very often the road we were on was nothing more that deeply pot-holed mud tracks.

And  what a revelation that part of India was for us.

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