An idyllic Santiniketan pathway;

Shortly before coming to India, I had a conversation with my paternal grandmother, a former doctor, about an old friend of hers from medical school that she had lost contact with. He was from Calcutta. She told me that a large part of the inception of their friendship resulted from their mutual love of Rabindranath Tagore. I’m embarrassed to say that at that point, I didn’t know anything about the poet, but when she explained who he was, I was fascinated to find out more. So, as a friend announced a trip to Santiniketan last weekend, I jumped at the chance to venture to the town and university so strongly connected with Tagore.

The weather was disappointing the weekend we visited, but this failed to detract from my enjoyment of the calm, enchanting town. In fact, as we walked around the Viswa Bharati University grounds, the rain and darkness gave it an eerie and mystical quality, as if we had stepped back into one of Tagore’s poems. This effect was amplified by the deserted nature of the campus, in part a result of it being Republic Day.

After visiting the university, we were taken to a small forest by cycle rickshaws; the rickshaw-wallahs suddenly stopped and gestured us to get off and walk into the trees. Confused but admiring the natural beauty of this place, we followed these instructions till we heard music. Following this, we came across a fairytale scene — three musicians, the wandering Baul minstrels — sitting on the ground, with a small market behind them. The handicrafts at this market were charming and innovative.

Bauls near the Viswa Bharati University. Pictures by the author

Our ride back to the hotel in the cycle rickshaws was incredibly exciting, journeying through the middle of nowhere in the absorbing darkness.

The next day, as we walked around the Kankalitala Temple, where Sati’s hip bones are said to have landed, the peace I felt was sadly spoiled by other tourists; a big, noisy family group who seemed uninterested in respecting the sacred site. It was also frustrating at the Tagore Museum that I was denied the time to read the information about his life, or observe the photos in any great detail, by the persistently moving queue of people.

The surrounding gardens were idyllic, however, particularly as the sun reappeared. I had thoughts of my grandmother with her small garden plot that she tends to in England and how much she would love to visit Santiniketan, a most inspiringly beautiful place. It was not hard to understand why such poetry was written in such an environment. The serenity of it is perfect to clear one’s mind and focus on the important things in life.

Have a favourite holiday to share? Tell t2@abpmail.com