The Eternal Sun

Rabindranath Tagore

Shantiniketan Express left from Howrah Railway Station. I felt like flying in ecstasy for uniting with much awaited holiday and besieged by ineffable delight for the eternal personality through whose expressions I witness a golden tryst with my incipient age. He is Rabindranath Tagore or the Sun with his galore of gleams, we are indebted daily.
                                             “Let my name be known
                                              That I am a man of yours.”

The Bauls

It was my trip to Shantiniketan and travelling through the landscape of wide spread golden fields with busy farmers harvesting their yield made the journey unforgettable indeed. A splash of refreshing wind, swept away the last memory of my hackneyed routine. The folk songs of the “Bauls” were a bonus in the train till we reached at Bolpur Station.

Gitanjali museum opposite to the Bolpur railway Station

My Shantiniketan tour began with the museum “Gitanjali” situated exactly opposite to the Bolpur Railway Station. I was like experiencing the life portrayal of Rabindranath Tagore in their interminable collection and decent display of rare photos, furniture of the great poet or his family, rail coach on which Rabindranath Tagore once travelled. It was a rare opportunity to ensemble the gallery that framed many colours and numerous shades of life of the great litterateur.
Now for the pivotal attraction, we headed for Shantiniketan or the abode of peace where we went through series of houses, garden, artworks, and finally it was the museum of the god of literature. I felt the hefty waves with roaring sound were rising in my heart and sometime was feeling like standing at the shore of an ocean that colour our emotions, enrich our existence, rejuvenate our soul and a constant source of inspiration in our daily life. It was indeed the most valuable experience for my entire life time, revisiting my affection towards him. I bent down to shower my deepest respect for the great man, through whose eyes we began dreaming.

                             Where words come out from the depth of truth;
                      Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
                                      Where the clear stream of reason
                      has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;

Prayer hall at Shantiniketan