Like sheer heaven…





















The prose -- "Like sheer heaven..."


Like all the previous years, I went to visit my maternal uncle’s ancestral house this Kalipuja also. In spite of all the past memories of happiness tinged with sorrow, this vacation was suffused with novelty and utmost laughter.

Sunur, a hamlet in Barddhaman district, may be called an unknown village, where his native abode is situated. If you are looking forward to be in the lap of nature truly, then you will be at the right place to visit here.

Approximately 20 km. remote from Barddhaman town, Sunur is adorned with the gliding Khari River to its south. One can view with ease that the silvery moon is like a spotlight on its quiet water.

It was the eve of the Kalipuja. My mother and I boarded the Barddhaman-bound galloping train at Howrah. Sometime later, Subhra di joined us. It was an evening full of chatting with singaras inside the train.

Approaching the station, we set out on our second journey towards the village. It was a hectic schedule indeed. However, it never seemed to be strenuous, perhaps because of the sheer delight felt while the auto being driven on the uneven paths made of red soil used to give us incessant jerks. Gradually the night became darker.

It was not totally good either. Suddenly, the thought that we might fall into the clutches of the robbers struck my ever-anxious and ever-tensed nerves. To be honest, sometimes this anxiety coupled with tension makes me recall Mrs. Bennet’s everlasting nervousness in Jane Austen’s novel. It makes me laugh at myself.

Then the so-called nervousness got astray, because I forgot that I was overtly worried. It was the time to get mingled with the cool gust of rural wind and with the smell of the dung. The howling foxes, the buzzing crickets were audible though unseen. What a heart-soothing nature!

Apart from the natural sounds, a few musical symphonies arranged for the Kalipuja could be heard, as and when the distance between the destination and us was becoming lesser gradually. Who can forget the cordial hospitality of the villagers?

As we reached the paara, all the residents of that locality came out of their cottages to welcome us. Uncle asked me, “Why did you get so late, dear?” Not knowing what to reply in extreme gladness, I had to keep mum.

“Come, pray to the goddess with folded hands for the welfare of your family. Well, don’t forget to pray for us also,” Auntie smiled and patted me.

I know the place so well since my childhood; still my cousins came to receive me, when we stood in front of the temple. After meeting for a pretty long span of time, the youngest hugged me and said, “What have you brought for me, Didi?” Giving her some toffees and two boxes of crayons, I kissed on her forehead.

To know how loving and cordial they were, one seriously needs to make a trip there. Sunur is perhaps a bit lacking in grandeur and pomp, but the heritage of its puja and the devotion of its people can excel everything in the cities. You can notice all and sundry, especially the smiling children, in their gala costumes. The most remarkable thing to remember is that these people are contented with just so little.

However, like all other places, this one too has its own shortcomings. It becomes too difficult to bear with, when the scapegoat is beheaded in front of the deity. Even though you close your eyes and put your fingers into the ear holes, you can hardly get respite from this slaughter scene. Moreover, every time we stay there, we find a great communication problem.

In spite of all these things, this village possesses its wonders also. It was evident when we all went to breathe in the fresh and open air beside the Khari River. We were forbidden to go there previously, because that side is not so secure during the night, but Mom took me there obstinately this time not heeding others. Therefore, it seemed to be an adventure. Who can forget the tranquil beauty there?
















The serene atmosphere with its crystal-clear water, in my solitude, did whisper something incomprehensible into the ears. The innocent bathing children, the verdant paddy fields, the swaying kash flowers, the dazzling sunshine and the splashing sound genuinely foster their internal potential to mesmerize whoever wants to enjoy the natural beauties to the heart’s content.

We can never blot out from our memory that I fell down into the sticky muck while walking along the narrow lanes between the green fields, which has left a permanent impression in our hearts. My sandal and my left foot got separated for a while, as it got stuck. Oh, what a mess!

“Are you hurt?” asked Rita Auntie. This time I responded, “Nope, not at all, because this is the gift from nature.”

Yes, it was the exact moment to get lost in the purity of nature, but as and when Mom regretted that we had to return to the home town on that very day, I could hardly see anything due to my glittering eyes.

We had to pack our belongings up and had to bid farewell to the hamlet. We were under compulsion. What we could carry home was nothing but lots of sweet memories treasured forever.

The only thing we could do was to say, “Goodbye, Sunur. See you next year again. Again we’ll have boundless joy and merriment, but no more now.”


It was like sheer heaven. I can still recall the divine mirth that the entire expedition gifted to all of us, not merely because of the ever-lasting novelty of the village, but even due to the fresh stimulation that I have found in course of the sojourn.









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