Abstract
The year was 1984. I used to teach in Burdwan University in those days. I had just submitted my doctoral thesis, and, that monsoon I went with my little son on an unplanned vacation. It was quite an aimless trip in the Chota Nagpur areas of Bihar, as the state was still called. The forest-clad undulating land dotted with tribal villages and barren hillocks kept us enchanted, and so the days turned into weeks and eventually months as we would find out. We stayed on at a place only if the name was pretty or unusual. And indeed, what beautiful names these were—Patratu, Palamau, Mahua Milan! Having spent my life in a small town in West Bengal and the cramped metropolis of Calcutta, with only occasional forays into touristic places, the junglescape seemed extraordinary. And then, one sultry afternoon, a crowded passenger train brought us to a tiny little red-brick station without a platform that said: McCluskiegunge. Finding a place with such an intriguing hybrid name—a mix of an English name with a Hindi suffix gunge was quite unexpected in its curious mixture of the indigenous and the exotic. The name was a strange imposition, for the railway signboard also said, in small letters, ‘Lapra,’ indicating perhaps, its ‘native’ past and present. I was fascinated at once, and jumped out onto the platform.
Original language | English |
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Pages | 114 |
Specialist publication | Outlook Weekender |
Publication status | Published - 2023 |