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 Subhashis Choudhuri Agartala, Tripura Contents | Binki had been to Assam several times before. She had to, because that was where her grandmother lived, in Guwahati. Back then, the entire extended family lived together in a huge joint household in Jalukbari. The grandmother was actually a distant relative on Binki's mother's side, her mother's paternal cousin's mother-in-law. Binki had only recently managed to understand such complicated family relationships after passing Class Nine and moving up to Class Ten. She had gone there that time for one of her aunts' weddings. There is a popular Bengali saying: "A visit to your maternal uncle's home is all fun and no scolding." It was exactly the same in Binki's case. Their house was always full of people. Whenever she visited as a little girl, every older person in the family was either an uncle or an aunt to her. Once her parents brought her there, holding her hands, she hardly needed them anymore. The rest of her stay was spent happily being passed from one loving lap to another. Sometimes she would not even see her parents until bedtime. Amid such a large gathering, she was the only child, while everyone else was an adult. She visited a few more times for the weddings of her uncles and aunts, but those occasions too came to an end while she was still young. As the years passed, her studies became more demanding, and family trips grew less frequent. Visits to that house gradually stopped until there was a gap of nearly five or six years. Even so, she had travelled with her relatives to many places in Assam, including Kaziranga, Duliajan, Tinsukia, and Jorhat. Since Kamakhya was the nearest railway station to their home, visiting the famous temple there had become almost a routine for her parents. They never really considered it a sightseeing trip. No matter how many places she visited, the Brahmaputra gradually became very dear to her as she grew older. Whenever she stood beside the mighty river, she felt an inexplicable pull towards it. During her teenage years, one question often occupied her mind: Why is the Brahmaputra called a "river" in the masculine sense? Although her geography textbook explained why it was referred to as a nad rather than a nadi in Bengali, the explanation never completely satisfied her. Was it considered masculine because of its immense length, powerful current, and awe-inspiring breadth? Was the Ganges, despite being equally long, regarded as feminine simply because of its gentler flow? Perhaps. Or perhaps the name came from its association with Brahma-putra—the Son of Brahma. The older she grew, the more logical her thinking became, yet her imagination remained just as alive. Her grandfather often told her, "My child, if your mind has no colours of imagination, you'll end up becoming a robot. Of course you must study your schoolbooks, but if you never read stories and poems beyond your lessons, if music never fills your heart, you'll never truly grow up. One grows not in body but in mind. Otherwise, why would a prince ever come looking for you?" Though Binki would blush whenever he teased her like that, his words quietly filled her heart with dreams. Whenever she visited Assam now, she loved sitting on the banks of the Brahmaputra, letting the breeze carry away her thoughts. She often imagined how wonderful it would be if someone gave her a boat of her own, one that would sail wherever she wished without the help of a boatman. Did such a boat ever really exist? A boat that could carry a lone traveller across distant lands? Another of her grandfather's words came back to her that day. "My child, wherever you travel in this country, always make an effort to visit the local museum. That's where a place preserves its history; its past lives there. Museums may not interest everyone, but they are important. You won't always travel with me. Whenever you go with someone else, or even by yourself someday, be sure to visit them." After finishing her secondary school examinations, she had once gone to Jalukbari again for another aunt's wedding. One day, she accompanied one of her maternal uncles to the banks of the Brahmaputra. Her uncle was a schoolteacher. During their conversation, he told her about a magnificent Mayurpankhi, or Peacock Boat, in which large groups of people would sail into the middle of the river on Ekadashi during the month of Bhadra, singing devotional songs together. When Binki asked why, he explained that they performed rituals and offered prayers for their departed ancestors while carrying out pind daan. Those who could not board the boat stayed on the riverbank. A grand fair used to be held on that occasion. "I've heard wonderful stories about it," her uncle had said. "But I've never actually seen it myself." Binki sighed to herself. If only I could see that boat just once! I'd capture it instantly on my phone. Soon after the wedding, she returned home to Agartala with her parents. Her secondary examination results were announced, and she enrolled in the Science stream. The next two years were exhausting, filled with school, private tuition, and endless studying. After that came a long series of entrance examinations. One of those examinations was held in Guwahati. It was also the last entrance test she had to take. After the exam, she went to Jalukbari once again. Much had changed. By then, the grandmother, her own grandfather, and several of the elders in the family had all passed away, leaving behind only memories. This time, she found only one uncle and aunt still living there. Everyone else had moved away because of their jobs. A strange loneliness settled over her. Her uncle and aunt sensed it. Her father looked at her and said, "Come, I'll take you somewhere." When she asked where they were going, he simply smiled. "You'll see when we get there. I know you'll love it." The next morning, at around eleven o'clock, they took an Uber straight to the Assam State Museum in Guwahati. After buying their tickets, Binki stepped through the gate and paused for a moment, gazing at the imposing building before her. The words Assam State Museum were prominently displayed in English, with the name also written in Assamese. As soon as they entered, they accidentally walked into a room on the right instead of the main museum gallery. Realising their mistake, they were about to leave when a museum staff member smiled and said, "Since you're already here, why don't you have a look?" The moment Binki entered, she stood frozen in amazement. There, filling the room, was a magnificent Mayurpankhi, or Peacock Boat, adorned with exquisite carvings. It looked as though it had been waiting just for her. Everything her uncle had told her was written on the information plaque beside it. Unfortunately, he himself had never visited the museum and so had never found it. Nearly 55 feet long and 6 feet wide, the boat was spacious enough for groups of people to sit in the middle and sing kirtans as they floated down the river. The craftsmanship was breathtaking. It was impossible to take one's eyes off it. Before she realised it, Binki's imagination had already set sail. In her mind, the grand boat was gliding across the vast waters of the Brahmaputra, carrying her away. She stood there, completely absorbed, gazing at it without blinking. With the museum's permission, her father quietly took photographs on his phone. Only when he called her name did she return to the present. Following the directions of a museum employee, they then entered the main gallery. Wandering from room to room, Binki felt as though she had discovered the entire history of Assam gathered under one roof. Almost every time she had travelled to Assam, she had arrived by air. Each visit, she would notice the sign reading Lokpriya Gopinath Bordoloi International Airport and wonder, Who was this man? She had often wished she could see what he looked like. School textbooks do not tell everyone's story, and even the internet does not always provide complete answers. Here, at the museum, she finally found him. History seemed to come alive before her eyes. She learned that Gopinath Bordoloi had been the first Chief Minister of undivided Assam, serving from 1946 to 1950. He was not only a political leader but also a teacher, a writer, and a freedom fighter. Assam's Governor, Jayram Das Daulatram, had bestowed upon him the honorific Lokpriya, meaning "Beloved of the People." In 1999, nearly half a century after his death, he was posthumously awarded India's highest civilian honour, the Bharat Ratna. What astonished Binki most was that he had passed away as early as 1950. So engrossed was she in exploring the museum that she never noticed morning turn into afternoon, and afternoon quietly slip into evening. At last, father and daughter stepped outside. They treated themselves to her father's favourite masala dosa, then hailed another Uber back to Jalukbari. As the car rolled along, Binki found herself thinking about everything she had seen that day. She was delighted to have discovered so much about Assam's past, yet at the same time she felt a pang of sadness as she remembered her grandfather. Her father had always been busy with work. Had she been able to visit the museum with her grandfather instead, she might have experienced all of this much earlier. Then she smiled to herself. After all, it was still a precious discovery. When she returned home, she knew she would have a wonderful story to share with her friends—the story of the magnificent Mayurpankhi, the Peacock Boat. |
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