When I am writing about one of the authors whose works have contributed a significant role in shaping the woman that I am today, and also one of the authors whose works I have been reading since my childhood days, let it remain honest and genuine to its best.

As a student of Bengali Medium, I read Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay’s works extensively during my school days. However, I remember very little about his works that were included in our academic syllabus, because I read his works mostly from our home library which was a repository of Bengali classics.

So, the first book of Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay which was gifted to me by my grandfather, was a collection of children’s stories from the famous ‘Lalu’ series. Lalu was one of my favorite characters in childhood because I read all of his stories from our home library books and I so loved reading his stories that I kept re-reading those books over and over. I almost memorized every line and every word of those stories.

Among them, one story was my all-time favorite. In that story, Lalu witnessed a man waking up from his deathbed. When all the neighborhood people of the dead body gathered at the cremation ghat, suddenly it started raining. All of them along with Lalu started getting drenched in the heavy downpour and thus, they scattered in the premise in search of shelter.

Although Lalu was scared of the cremation ghat’s eerie ambiance, he kept his eyes on the dead body. Suddenly, he saw the dead body waking up from his death bed and wrapped in the white bedsheet, slowly, it approached him. By then, Lalu reached his extreme point of courage, and seeing the white shadow (or whatever he thought at that moment!), he broke the threshold and screaming loudly, fainted.

After some moments, when he opened his eyes, he saw his friend (I forgot his name; was it Indra anyway?) staring at him and putting effort to regain his consciousness. When Lalu finally gained back his consciousness and asked his friend about the matter, his friend burst into laughter. Next, it was revealed that due to the sudden downpour, all the people went to take shelter and left the dead body alone. But it was Lalu’s friend, the bravest and the kindest of all, who stayed there with the dead body despite being drenched. Lalu’s friend proved his honesty and humanity by standing there all along the rain. He proved to be the most sensitive person of all.

So, this story was my all-time favorite for some unknown reason. However, I loved reading about Lalu more when my grandfather told me that Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay created the characters of ‘Lalu’ and ‘Srikanta’ to retell his own story in the guise of these two boys. My grandfather also told me that in some senses, both the boys were stringed together and they behaved like the person whom Sarat Chandra resembled the most.

I loved to read his stories in my school days because of two reasons. Firstly, his books had vibrant covers that attracted me to grab them without thinking twice. Secondly, his writing style. His subtle art of storytelling through simple yet poignant characters and easy-to-understand language made me fall in love with his works instantly. Mejodidi, Ramer Sumati, Panditmashai, there were many books available in our home library and that I kept reading and re-reading.

Sometimes, I felt an attraction to the library with the aim of discovering more of his gems. And one such discovery led me to enter a new world.

One day, while searching for a new book by Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay, I stumbled upon a collection of short stories authored by him. The book seemed to consist of a deeper level of stories than the ones I had read so far. Abiding by the rules of borrowing a book from our home library, I asked for my grandfather’s permission. Seeing the book in my hand, he waited for some moments and then finally, gave me permission to read it.

As soon as I started reading the stories, I fell in love with the book. Meanwhile, I reached a story titled ‘Adhare Aalo’, which means ‘a beam of light’. As soon as I started reading the story, I could feel myself transcending to the world of the protagonist. I could visualize everything in front of me, that was happening in the story.

But it was just the beginning.

Slowly, as the hero entered the house of the woman he fell in love with, I started envisioning the house as well. And then, it was revealed that his lover was actually a courtesan.

I can’t remember whether I had read about Notee Binodini first or I had read ‘Andhare Aalo’ before reading about her, but I still remember the day when I first read the story of ‘Andhare Aalo’ and my experience of envisioning the courtesan’s house.

I was transcended to the world of courtesans while reading the story, and till now, whenever I read this story, I always find myself in the house of the courtesans.

Maybe, his story was one of the biggest contributions to kindle the passion in me to know more about the world of tawaifs. Since childhood, I have been an admirer of their world, their lifestyle, their charisma, their music, their dance, their stories, and most importantly, their lineage.

While growing up, the more I came to know the fact that the world of courtesans was an isolated one than the so-called ‘Bhadra Samaj’ or ‘the society of decent people’, the more I was attracted to the ‘Baiji Mahal’ or ‘the world of tawaifs’. And the story ‘Andhare Aalo’ was the sole inspiration behind my consistent seeking.

I owe Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay for being one of the inspirations behind creating my first fictional character in my childhood. Reading about his character Indra da made me crazy. My father used to tell me the stories of Indra da while teaching me lessons in Bengali, my first language in school. I was in awe of the unbelievable bravery, the nomadic attitude, the rebellious actions, and the unique blend of humanity, honesty, curiosity, indifference, loyalty, and so many things in one character. I admired Indra da so much that when I created my first fictional character at the age of eleven, I named him ‘Indra da’.

However, Srikanta’s Indra da was his friend, philosopher, and guide, and in some sense, his true companion in exploring the myriads of shades of boyhood. But my Indra da (I have created him so I have the right to call him mine) was a young detective who went on adventures with his small gang of cousins.

Another nice experience of growing up reading Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay is we got to read his works in school. In such an academic syllabus, we had an excerpt from his novel ‘Srikanta’ included. The chapter began with the description of a rainy evening in a Bengali household. Oh, the imagery was engraved in my mind to such an extent that till now, in my early thirties, whenever I experience rainy days, I take myself back to that specific part of ‘Srikanta’ novel and read and re-read those lines to feel the nostalgia of a rainy day.

So, this way, Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay and his works contributed a significant role in my reading experience of childhood.

As a grown-up, I don’t need to borrow a book from our home library or ask my grandfather for his permission before borrowing a new book, as both of them have vanished to the passage of time many years ago.

But whenever I read Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay’s stories or novels or any of his works now, I rediscover the child reader in me, and through the words of the author, I also rediscover the person behind the immortal creations of ‘Datta’, ‘Boro Didi’, ‘Devdas’, ‘Parinita’, ‘Biraj Bou’, ‘Pallisamaj’, and many more, in a new light.

(This is a tribute to the author who was among the ones whose works kindled the love for reading in my heart when I was a child. This post is inspired by my fellow blogger and writer friend’s blog post on Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay.)

(This post is part of the Bookish League blog hop hosted by Bohemian Bibliophile.)