Tagore landed in Buenos Aires, the capital of Argentina, in 1924. He was scheduled to go to Peru for its centenary celebration, on an invitation from Peru government. Nobody was there to receive the sixty-three year old poet. The poet had fallen ill from the rigour of a long journey. He was immediately put up at a hotel by Elmhirst, Tagore’s personal secretary, and Rathindranath, poet’s son.
Victoria Ocampo, a rich Spanish lady, an elite socialite of Argentina, came to know of Tagore’s predicament. She was thirty three then, married and she married her own man, a businessman. She had already read Tagore’s Gitanjali in Andre Gide’s (himself a Nobel laureate) French translation. The book drew her emotionally to Tagore. She had been waiting since to meet the poet. She rented a luxury building “Miralrio” from her cousin at San Isidro. She sold her diamond tiara to bear the expenses.
Ocampo went to the hotel Tagore was staying. She told Elmhirst about “Miralrio.” Tagore was duly informed. He agreed.
Tagore came to Miralrio. He loved the building. It had three floors overlooking a clash of colours as roses, tulips and zacoranda vied for space in the garden in front, laced by river Plata.
Under Ocampo’s care, Tagore recovered.
Tagore and Ocampo now spent their time among flowers, shared a shaded space under a willow tree, as river Plata flowed on, giving them a murmur of company.
They talked on what they could. They did not talk on what they could not. Ocampo blamed it on language gap.
If I could speak English better…. and you learnt Spanish…. Ocampo often lamented aloud.
Yes, I wish I learnt Spanish…. Tagore agreed.
The days among flowers and river came to an end after two months, like all good things on earth. Tagore had to come back to his Shantiniketan ashram to keep his compelling engagements.
Victoria booked two costly cabins for Tagore’s voyage back in an expensive Italian ship.
What’s the need for two? Tagore asked.
One for your writing. The other for your rest. Ocampo replied.
Ocampo gifted Tagore the grand easy-chair he sat on under the willow tree at Miralrio. But the chair would not get in through the ship door. She called in carpenters to broaden the door to move in the chair.
Why you left San Isidro so soon? Ocampo wrote to Tagore.
In his last days in Shantiniketan, before his death, Tagore kept on looking at the easy-chair Ocampo had gifted before his departure. Sometimes he reclined on it while writing letters to Ocampo.
Tagore taught Ocampo some Bengali words of which only one Ocampo cared to learn and remember: BHALOBASA (Love).
Did he love me? Ocampo seemed to be racked by self doubt.
How dearly I love you…I hope you know. Bijoya (Tagore’s christening of Ocampo) hoped so and wrote it in one of her letters to Tagore.
The answer was not forthcoming from Tagore.