The Good, the Ugly, the Bad

Five years ago, when I’ve started this blog, I was still mesmerized with Santiniketan’s natural beauty and stillness. My very own Santitown! That place where I wanted to drop my bags and settle for a while. I was still under the spell of my first Poush Mela, this picturesque event, a real time travel. I wanted to share this feeling with all. 
Five years later, just after another Poush Mela, I almost put an end to it and to my stay in Santiniketan. It’s been hard to see all the changes happening around for the sake of “progress” and “development”. Visitors kept coming. Not those nature and poetry’s lovers looking for peace and a piece of history anymore. Just packs of people unable to appreciate the real beauty of the place and to respect the past, the present nor the future of amader Santiniketan. After months of music, plastic and traffic, I got sick. Sick of it all. I did not want to become this bitter person who’ll denounce it all.
L1160871And one day, going back home crossing a familiar santali village, the magic worked once again. On the side of the road – which was still a mud road a couple of years back – I saw men building one of those huge hand-made wicker basket where they’ll keep the village’s crop. I’ve stopped for a few minutes and admired this amazing work, this beautiful craft that managed to survive to this day.

L1160876Then I knew. I still had a lot to share. The good and the bad. I’ll have to find a balance. For my sake and for Santitown’s sake. I won’t keep the beauty for myself but I won’t pretend I don’t see what going wrong.

L1170125Like those so-called “picnics” that have invaded the paddy fields, the river sides and our daily lives. Another excuse to put loud music from 8 am until late afternoon. The food will basically the same that is served at home but often prepared by hired cooks and in less hygienic conditions. The meals will be served in polystyrene plates that will be thrown a bit further along the road for the wind to blow and cows to feed.

L1170127The place will be left soiled and barren. Amader Santiniketan. The Poet’s abode of peace, spoiled for the rest of us.







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