Robin Banerjee. Picture by UB Photos

Golaghat, Aug. 7: Young Robin lost his beloved Anne to the war in 1945. Years later, his love helped him find her spirit again — in a piece of driftwood that resembled her in the pose of a ballet dancer.

Since that “beautiful moment of discovery”, the pared and polished driftwood has enjoyed pride of place on a mantle in the living room of Robin Banerjee’s bungalow here.

A day after the conservationist and wildlife filmmaker’s death, his associate Indrakshi B. Choudhuri recalled how important that piece of driftwood was to Banerjee.

“During dinner, he would always sit opposite the mantle and gaze at the driftwood, lost in his thoughts. Those, I think, were the most precious moments of his life,” Choudhuri, curator of Uncle Robin’s Natural History Museum, said.

The story of how the duo met and fell in love aboard a ship is the stuff of fairytale romances. The year was 1937. Banerjee, then young and handsome, was the resident doctor on a British Royal Navy ship. There he met Anne, a blue-eyed, blonde nurse from New Zealand, and the two got along like a house on fire.

Romance bloomed on the deck of the ship and Banerjee’s “most wonderful moments” were when Anne, a good ballet dancer, entertained him with her graceful performances.

Love grew deep and strong and the couple planned to get married and settle in Anne’s country. As New Zealand law forbade a foreigner from buying land, Anne bought acres of farmland to set up a home.

During a visit to Belgium, Banerjee bought Anne a beautiful diamond-studded ruby engagement ring.

Destiny, however, had other plans. Before the lovers could give shape to their dreams, they were caught in the midst of World War II.

During the course of the war, Anne was transferred to serve in a hospital in Burma. The ship on which Anne travelled to that country had docked at the harbour and a Red Cross jeep was waiting to take her to the hospital.

As was perhaps destined to happen, a bomb exploded on the convoy, snuffing out Anne’s life and leaving Banerjee benumbed. Ironically, the war ended three days later.

The flame that Anne had lit in Banerjee’s heart, however, remained aglow all his life. Like “Shiva without Parvati”, as he used to say, the good doctor visited concentration camps in Europe and saw the misery of those incarcerated there.

Disgusted by the scenes of torture, Banerjee wandered around and finally found peace in Assam.

Yesterday, as Banerjee’s body lay in state, an old red shirt — a gift from Anne — lay by his side. “He loved Anne more than anything else in the world. Everything she gave him was precious and I think he would have liked to take this shirt with him,” Choudhuri said.

The doctor had remained a bachelor, albeit complete with memories of the woman he loved and lost.