The last time I went to Shantiniketan during Holi is going to be ten years. A huge procession greeted the visitors as it danced across the ashram ground to the main stage in the morning.
Ore grihobasi, khol dwar khol laglo je dol — the processionists danced to the song sung by a group of singers from the dais non-stop for close to two hours.
The main programme, Vasontothsab, started after the procession ended. Towards the close of the programme, the skies got coloured as the audiences threw coloured abir sky-ward.
Later the audiences broke into small groups and sang and danced themselves under numerous trees dotting the ashram ground. I was taken in one such group.
Sahosa dalpala tor utola je o chanpa o karabi — I sang. A girl danced.
Yesterday as I got into my scheduled compartment, behind the vendors’, in the Burdwan-Howrah local from Gangpur and took my seat, an unknown lady sitting opposite smiled at me. I smiled back askingly.
“You sang and I danced in Shantiniketan.”
“Oh! You’re a girl then, now you’ve become a lady. You’ve changed a lot.”
“Yes. It’s what Time does.”
The local slowed to a stop, short of Shaktigarh station, near a crossing, for want of a green signal. I looked outside the compartment window. A Karabi tree turned pink in a courtyard of a house. The flowers seemed to outnumber its branches.
The boughs of chanpa and karobi stir up suddenly. Time springs a spring. I told her.
She did not respond. She put her cell phone on a high volume.
Rangie die jao jao jao go ebar jabar age — the voice of Kalikaprasad came through amidst harmonium bellowing.
Kalikaprasad, who died in a road accident after his car crashed into guard rails repeatedly on a national highway before falling fifteen feet down on a ditch some days before, pleaded with the hearer to colour his life before he left him.
“Yes, Time can change everything. Quite unforgiving.” I agreed.
Meanwhile, Memari, my station, came and I got down. I opened my umbrella as it rained briskly and walked past the rain-ridden Shimul flowers fallen here and there, uncared for, mostly crushed under the hurrying feet, over the platform.