(From Shabda Cayanika -1, Áṋka to Ád́hya (Discourse 4))
That day there was a strong, sweet breeze coming from the forest behind me and blowing out towards the mountain in front. I started feeling a little drowsy, having worked more than normal that day.
I started nodding off but after a time I heard what sounded like someone approaching me from behind. I turned around to look and saw a fair-skinned person wearing western clothes. I was somewhat surprised, for three reasons. First of all, it was extremely unlikely that anyone would be in that area after the sun went down. Secondly, though there was a lot of forest, even thieves would not dare come to cut wood for fear of wild animals. Thirdly, in those days western clothes were completely out of place there.
Though this was the time of British rule, everyone knew that Westerners never came anywhere near such places. I asked him in English: “Who are you?” Looking at him, I could see that he was a real gentleman but he approached me without replying. He started looking around in all directions until his eyes came to rest on the valley in front of us. This time I asked him in Angika who he was and what he was doing there so late at night in such a deserted place. In those days such places were not completely safe. Then he answered me in a very soft and sweet, but unnatural, Bengali. “As long as you are here I’m not at all afraid.”
I was speechless. At any rate, his face bore the stamp of a gentle, courteous soul. As best as I could see in the moonlight he looked to be about twenty-three or twenty-four years old and from a good family. I invited him to sit down on the rock next to me. He thanked me politely and sat down. As he sat, I felt a change in the environment around me, as if someone had fashioned a dream world out of the power of máyá.
“I am very near and dear to you,” he said. “You know me but perhaps nowadays you’ve forgotten me.” I gazed at him and noticed his unblinking eyes. It was as if all the wonder in the world, a fathomless magic collyrium, was contained in those eyes. My ears pricked up to hear what he had to say and I looked at him carefully. His body did not seem to be of this earth. Somehow it seemed to be made of light and shadow… as if I was watching a talking picture.
Seating my guest near me, I asked him in Angika: “Are you one of our Angadesh boys?”
“No,” he replied, “but I have been here so long that I have become one with the soil. I love Angadesh with all my heart.”
“Why have you come to this solitary wilderness so late at night? By looking at you it seems to me that you’ve been here before.”
“You are quite right. I often come here; rather, you can say I come here daily.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you’ll give me a few moments of your time,” he replied, “there are a few things I’d like to say. If I start bothering you, please let me know and I’ll stop.”
Then my visitor continued speaking. “This happened a long time ago, at the end of the Mughal Period when the kingdom was in disarray. At that time the capital of the Province of Bengal (Bengal, Bihar and Orissa) was Murshidabad, and there was a zamindar in Singur (Hoogly district – at that time Burdwan district) by the name of Virendravijay Vásumallik. Although he was a small zamindar he was a man of strong and independent thought. While the other zamindars were indulging in addictions and luxuries, he was not. He was directing all sorts of efforts to preserve the freedom of Bengali culture, civilization, and way of life.
“He was quite dissatisfied with the character and comportment of weaker-minded men like Nawab Alivardii Khán. The nawab should have made the governmental machinery strong by making sure the commander-in-chief and the subedars(1) did their respective jobs properly; on the one hand to develop Bengal’s military prowess and on the other hand to firm up its economic structure, but he failed to do this. While it is true that he was a man of good qualities, and his character, as such, was unstained, still, in matters of character and comportment he was prone to weakness at every step – something which his wife, Lady Sharf-Un-Nisá, was unable to check or hold together despite much effort. He used to hide many things from his wife.
“At that time the Marathas of the Bhonsale family used to attack quite often. Those attacks, which were under the leadership of Bháskar Pańd́it, were extremely bloody. The nawab was unable to make any provisions to resist them. This conduct of his was completely unpardonable. Rather, in order to avoid war, he was somehow able to strike a truce with the Marathas by giving them one fourth of the collected state revenue. When the Marathas arrived in Katoya, throwing Rarh into complete disorder, Alivardii Khan became aware of the danger but the nawab was not able to mount any resistance from Poŕahát (Seraikelá-Kharsoán) to any part of Katoya. This weak conduct of the nawab continued to afflict the mind of the Bengali people.
“Many of those who were wealthy took shelter in Calcutta and in Angadesh out of fear of the attacks of the Marathas. While the Marathas were skilled in land battle they were not known for their naval skill. Thus, to save Calcutta from Maratha attack, a ditch was dug to the northeast of Calcutta – today it is known by the name ‘Maratha ditch’. Seeing that he was being routed by the Marathas, the nawab committed yet another blunder. He took four large districts, Burdwan (what is today Burdwan, Hoogli, Howrah, and Jamtara), Midnapur, Chittagong, and the 24 Paragana, formed from the the eastern portion of Nadia-Chakla, and delivered them into the hands of the East India Company with the condition that the East India Company would help the nawab turn back the Marathas. The people of Bengal did not like this behaviour of the Nawab – the freedom-loving Virendravijay Vasumallik was completely against it.
“Seeing the bad condition that Bengal was in at that time, Shobhá Singh, the king of Midnapore’s Ceŕiyábeŕiyá came forward. Shobhá Singh was as brave in character as he was firm. Most of the people of Bengal wanted him to be king of all of Bengal. The British also secretly wanted this and thus supported him from behind the scenes. Shobhá Singh saw that the British had come to his country to do business and realized that if they were afforded convenient business opportunities their friendship could be won, but two people were thorns in Shobha Singh’s path. One was Maharaja Bahadur of Burdwan. He was not a man of strong character but he was Bengal’s biggest zamindar.(2) In a secret corner of his mind he felt that he had the greatest right to be Bengal’s king. The second thorn in Shobhá Singh’s principled, strong-charactered path was the king of Mallabhúm (Biśńupur of Bánkurá district) – Raghunáth the Second (There is some difference of opinion in this matter).
“Raghunáth was a man of vacillating character, a symbol of poor conduct. Forgetting his family’s illustrious tradition, he became infatuated with a certain Persian dancer by the name of Lalbai(3) and made up his mind to marry her. This fueled a dispute with the queen and with his ministers. Finally he met his death at the hands of the queen (Shobhá Singh’s daughter). This Lalbai was probably killed at this time.(4) Anyhow, as a result of his own conduct Shobhá Singh came into conflict with Raghunáth the Second.
“The king of Singur, Virendravijay, helped Shobhá Singh in many ways. He was not afraid of incurring the Nawab’s displeasure for this but Shobhá Singh was stabbed and killed unexpectedly by the Princess of Burdwan.(5) After the death of Shobhá Singh, Virendravijay was wondering what path should be taken to save Bengal. After the death of Alivardii Khan, his immature grandson became the nawab of Bengal, taking the name Miirza Mohammed Siraj-Ud-Daola.(6) In addition to his young age, he had many kinds of defects in his character and conduct. Virendravijay did not like this at all.
“At the time the East India Company was encroaching like a cat extending its claws, trying to gain control of the throne of Bengal by any means possible. On the other side, the public was divided into three camps. One group was vocally against the conduct and character of Siraj. Directly and indirectly, they supplied help to the East India Company.
“A second group supported the nawab regardless of his faults, following the policy of nun khái yár gun gái tár [if you eat someone’s salt then you have to praise their virtues]. Miirzafar, Jagatsheth, and Umichand(7) fell into this category. Among them were also a few men who recognized the faults of the nawab but who did not want to allow the administration of Bengal to pass into the hands of the East India Company. For this reason alone they supported the nawab.
“The third group consisted of those who could not support the bad behaviour of the nawab but who also did not want to allow the East India Company to gain political control over Bengal. They supported neither side. Queen Bhávanii was of this mind. Her relationship with the nawab was extremely bitter. Yet, when she was asked to help the East India Company against the nawab, she said: ‘I do not want to dig a canal to bring the river crocodiles into my backyard pond.’ Because of this the East India Company was quite displeased with Queen Bhavánii. Virendravijay was of the same opinion as the queen. Thus it was impossible for him to do anything either for or against the nawab.
“There was one more thing worth mentioning about these last days of Mughal political dominance. The Bengali people were unable to consider the family of the nawab of Murshidabad as their own. No matter how much fuss and bother the writers and historians of today make over Siraj, the family of Murshidabad’s nawab were very distant from the common people of Bengal. It was not only that they were Urdu-speaking immigrant Shiahs;(8) though they had settled in Bengal and were Bengalees in the eyes of the law, they did not think of themselves as Bengalees. They called the Bengalees ‘rustics’ or ‘Muslim rustics’.(9) Of course, they learned to speak Bengali, more or less, so that they could communicate with these Muslim rustics, but at home they spoke Urdu or a corrupted form of Urdu that was mixed with Bengali, and put on airs that they were not out-of-fashion Bengalees. This mental attitude kept them quite removed from the common people.
“If a person is great, if their mental arena is very large, then people lose sight of their worldly identity. Because Siraj’s character was not very expanded there is no scope for people to forget his worldly defects. It is true that most people accept that he was broad-hearted and generous, but this was not enough for him to gain a seat in the heart of the Bengali people. And he was the nawab for how long!
“Most of the people who supported the nawab were senior Hindu officers. The East India Company put forth their best efforts to try to please the Hindus so that they would withdraw their support from Siraj.
“Virendravijay died shortly after the battle of Plassey. At the time of his death he told his only son, Vireshvijay, that he should dedicate himself wholeheartedly to the task of strengthening Bengal’s culture, unity and economic situation, and asked him to use both his intellect and his courage rightly in this matter. At the time Vireshvijay was a boy of eighteen or nineteen. Vireshvijay carried out the instructions of his father and became well-versed in the martial treatises.
“Neither Virendravijay nor Vireshvijay could support Mirzafar. Mirzafar was an indisciplined, power-hungry, spineless drunkard. His main preoccupation was to keep his nawabship intact by whatever means possible. For some time after his death the throne of Bengal was thrown into confusion. Thereafter Miirkashim became the nawab. His conduct was spirited, his behaviour showed individuality, and he was a man of strong character. Vireshvijay came into contact with him and Miirkashim befriended him, touched by his sincerity.
“In those days the throne was the nawab’s in name only. The power was in the hands of the East India Company; the administration was in the hands of the nawab but the economic power was not. Moreover, if one was to repel the East India Company, it would not be possible to accumulate power by sitting in Murshidabad because Murshidabad was right next to the East India Company’s chief outpost. Vireshvijay advised Miirkashim to shift his capital from Murshidabad to Monghyr. He did not advise him to remove his capital to Azimabad (Patna) because Azimabad was, to some extent, a centre for the East India Company.
“There were one or two other reasons for making Monghyr the capital of Bengal. During the time of the Mahabharata, when Angadesh was first accepted as an independent kingdom, Duryodhana made Karna the king of Angadesh and rather than consider him a vassal, he allowed him to wear the crown of a sovereign king. Since ancient times the Anga region was not considered part of northern India. Neither Anga, Vanga, nor Kalinga were considered part of northern India. Starting from this time, Anga was declared an appendix or auṋga of northern India and hence its name became Angadesh. Vanga remained outside of northern India. Kalinga gained acceptance as a part of southern India. Thus, even today, Oriya Brahmins are sometimes known as Dakśińátya Vedic Brahmins in Bengal. At the time of Karna the capital of Angadesh was Champakanagar.(10) Karna also founded an auxiliary capital in Mudgagiri, on the western border of the kingdom of Anga. Hence Monghyr has a tradition as a capital.(11)
“When Gujarat’s Rastrakuts [a royal dynasty] defeated eastern India then Angadesh came under their jurisdiction. The Khirkhiriya Hills that we are sitting on were the eastern boundary of the Rastrakut kingdom. Thus they established a capital in their border city of Mungagiri. So we see that Monghyr became a capital more than once. At that time the road system of Bengal, as well as India, was not at all developed. The long highway Shershah built that extended from Suvarnagram in Dhaka District to the city of Át́ak in western Punjab via Teota (Mańikganj subdivision) and Howrah-Burdwan, and passing by Calcutta, did not afford much convenience to Murshidabad, Monghyr or Patna but Monghyr’s water-route transport system was good. The waterway worked well all the way from Dhaka to Benares/Allahabad passing via Narayanganj, Teota, Rampur, Boyaliya (Rajsahii), Lalagola Ghat, Godagarii Ghat, Chapaghati, Rajmahal (At one time Rajmahal was the capital of Bengal), Bhagalpur, Monghyr, and Azimabad. Benares and Allahabad used to be helped out by the Shershah-built Badshahii road. Thus, since Monghyr was marked as an important centre of water transport, the capital could be established there without there being any communication problems as such.
“Miirkashim accepted Vireshvijay’s reasoning and moved the capital to Monghyr. On Vireshvijay’s advice, the nawab set out preparing the capital in Monghyr with great speed and began constructing his armoury. A great fortress was built in Monghyr as well as a munitions factory, heavy-weapons arsenal, huge parade grounds (Karheya Maidan or Kora Maidan), and a new cultural centre, Kasimbazar. The East India Company recognized the danger. Seizing on various small pretexts they declared war against Miirkashim. They had economic power and were prepared for war – the nawab had nothing. He had just begun organizing. On the other side, the East India Company had concentrated their power at Fort William in Calcutta and in Alinagar (present-day Alipur, now a part of Calcutta).
“The first battle was a trifling affair; it took place in Katoya and the nawab was defeated. The second battle took place in Gheriya and there also the nawab was defeated. The third took place in Udhuya or in the Udhuyanala. The East India Company advanced along the Ganges in the direction of Monghyr. A great battle took place in the Dakra canal. With his finger my visitor pointed out to me the Dakra canal which originated on the western border of the Khirkhiriya Hills and joined the Ganges a little to the west of Monghyr. In reality, the Dakra was not a canal but a river. In the East India Company records it is mistakenly called a canal. At the time of the monsoon deluge, the water of the Ganges goes upstream through the Dakra River and floods a wide area in Monghyr District. At the time my visitor pointed out the Dakra canal there was heavy flooding.
“When the nawab was defeated in the battle of Dakra canal he started heading by water for Azimabad. The map and plans of the next battle site remained in the hands of Vireshvijay. The planning of how the next battle in Buxar and on the banks of the nearby Karmanasha river could be fought was not in the hands of the nawab. All he knew was that there would be a battle fought in those places. Vireshvijay got separated during the fighting and fell back a little south. He was not able to reach the banks of the Ganges and go upriver to Azimabad. But the warplans and maps were in his hands so he took shelter in the jungle of the Khirkhiriya Hills.
“Another of the nawab’s chief difficulties was his severe lack of economic resources. Vireshvijay knew that King Karna’s huge treasury was secretly preserved in a cave in the Khirkhiriya Hills. He set about searching for that treasure thinking that if it came into his hands he would much better be able to help the nawab.
“At this point I should say something about the history of Angadesh’s terrain. In Karna’s time the north of Angadesh bordered on the Himalayas.(12) The southern border was the source of the Chandan river, a little to the north of Deoghar. On the western border was Ramdiri and Shamhodira (Samidha), near Beguserai, and the eastern border was the Rajmahal Hills near Sahebganj where they approach the Ganges. The Rajmahal Hills range occupy a large area in eastern Angadesh. Their eastern branch stops abruptly near Sahebganj and the Ganges; its western branch ends near Monghyr by the side of the Ganges. The western branch’s Sanskrit name is the Kśirakśirika Hills. In Angika they are called Khirkhiriya Hills and in English the Kharagpur Hills. These Kharagpur Hills are a branch of the Rajmahal Hills.
“Southern Anga’s chief river is the Chandan which has two companions, the Baruya and the Chiir. In this Chandan-Baruya-Chiir river basin(13) one finds the Kalhan Hills (near Kahalgaon, named after Maharsi Kalhan), Ajagavii Hills (near Sulatanganj), Mandar Hills(14) (a little north of the railway station), and these Khirkhiriya Hills on the western border where one can find, scattered here and there, innumerable examples of the culture of ancient Angadesh. Like the Angika culture, the language also belongs to this place.
“Those who think that the Khirkhiriya Hills are the western border of Angadesh, however, are mistaken. To the west of the Khirkhiriya Hills lies the Dakra river basin. This Dakra river basin is Anga’s final western border. Beyond the Dakra river basin lies the Kiul river basin where one can find many examples of Magadha culture, that is, it belongs to the land of Magadha.
“The Angika language has three chief dialects: Dharamapuriya, Champanagarii or Chekachekii, and Mangeriya. The Dharamapuriya dialect is spoken on the north bank of the Ganges. The Chekachekii dialect is spoken in far eastern region where the Rajmahal Hills approach the Ganges near Sahebganj, and in the western border area where the Khirkhiriya Hills stop near the Ganges. Miirzachauki, near Sahebganj, was at the border of the provinces of Bengal and Bihar during the time of Akbar. Miirzachauki was a busy checkpost. It occupied a narrow strip of land between the Ganges and the mountains and thus was an ideal spot for a checkpost. The Mungeriya dialect is prevalent to the west of the Khirkhiriya Hills in the Dakra River basin.
“Besides these, there are also two mixed sub-dialects of Angika: The first is the Shriipuriya sub-dialect which is used in the region lying between Purnia and Kisanganj. Purnia’s language is Angika, and Bengali is the language of Kisanganj. The Shriipuriya language that is spoken in the interlying areas is a mixture of Angika and Raunapurii Bengali (Súryapurii). The second sub-dialect is the Northern Khotta dialect which is used in the region between Katihar and Maldah. The language of Katihar is Angika, and in Maldah, Bengali. In certain places between the two one can find this Northern Khotta sub-dialect. It is a mixture of Angika and Shershahabad Bengali. In Mungeriya Angika one can find some influence of Magahii. Similarly, in the Magahii of the Kiul River basin there is some influence of Angika.”
“As I was saying,” my visitor continued, “I hope I am not annoying you by talking for so long. Earlier I told you that I loved Angadesh with all my heart. So when the topic of Anga comes up, I start going on without any hesitation. Then afterwards, I think to myself that I hope I haven’t annoyed whoever I’ve been talking to.”
“Why should I be annoyed,” I replied. “Rather, I’m quite astonished; I wonder how you came to know so much at such an early age.”
The light and shadow body of my visitor trembled as he spoke. “These are all your own thoughts. Earlier I said that I am in your mind. So your thoughts are coming out from my mouth.”
“Yes,” he continued. “Vireshvijay started searching the forest of the Khirkhiriya Hills for Karna’s ‘treasury’ in order to save it from the hands of the East India Company. Do you know,” he added, “when I visit these hills I feel as if my entire being is overwhelmed by that Vireshvijay. It feels as if I am also searching someone in these hills and in this forest. Shall I say one more thing?… Please don’t mind. Please say you won’t mind.”
“No, I won’t mind,” I replied. “Go ahead.”
“Now,” he continued, “it seems to me as if I have come searching for you.”
I stared at him, speechless. There was the whisper of a smile on his guileless face.
“After a few days’ search, Vireshvijay came across one of his faithful followers. He entrusted him with the secret plans and maps as well as various urgent matters and sent him to the nawab in Buxar. It was impossible for him to go himself. It would not have been so bad if he himself were caught, but it was essential that the war documents not fall into the hands of the Company. But to the good fortune of the East India Company and the misfortune of Bengal, his follower was caught by the Company near Surajgara. He was killed and the Company learned of the movements of both Vireshvijay and the nawab.
“The Company dispatched a large advance army to Buxar and the bank of the Karmanasha River where they laid in ambush waiting to draw up battle formation. Needless to say, Miirkashim lost the battle of Buxar and was completely routed in the battle of the Karmanasha. He had neither manpower nor economic resources. Disheartened, he went first to Zamaniya, then later to Gazipur. At the time Gazipur was under the control of Agra Province. The East India Company’s direct rule had not yet been established there. In poor health and with a broken spirit, Miirkashim breathed his last in Gazipur. The nawab of Bengal, Bihar and Orissa, Miirkashim, died like an ordinary man, or not even, since no one dared to give him a proper burial for fear of the East India Company. Simply a hole was dug and he was thrown in. Even this was washed away and vanished when the Ganges flooded.
“When he received news of the nawab’s death,” my visitor went on, “Vireshvijay became very sad but he didn’t fall apart. He decided to leave the Khirkhiriyá valley and head for Rarh. There he thought to build a new army with the help of the Bágdiis [a fighting community belonging to the lower strata of society].
“In fact,” he went on, “Vireshvijay was sitting and thinking in the very spot where you are sitting now, thinking and thinking.
“I was telling you about Gazipur City. Lord Cornwallis introduced a permanent land settlement for the landed property of Bengal Presidency. Before introducing the land settlement in Bengal, he went first to Gazipur District to make the same arrangements for the province of Agra.(15) Gazipur was at that time a huge district. Later, the eastern portion of this district was separated and a new district was formed called Baliyá (Bahlik). When Cornwallis arrived in Gazipur city he fell ill and died there. His tomb is still there today.
“Yes, since Mughal times, the city of Gazipur has been famous for rosewater and attar. This fame still continues to some extent. Rabindranath Tagore’s elder brother, Satyendranath Tagore, was the District Magistrate of Gazipur city. It was in his government residence that Rabindranath wrote his book Naokád́ubi [The Wreck].
“Talking about Gazipur reminds me again of Monghyr. Shahjahan’s son, Suja, had the same kind of relationship with Monghyr that Miirkashim had with Gazipur. He fled the country from Monghyr for fear of his life during the Aurangzeb’s invasion. People today still call the wharf that his barge left from, Sujiighat (Sujá-i-ghát́). Of course, Suja stopped for one night while passing through the city of Bhagalpur in order to draw up his next plans. After that he went to Akiyab, the capital of Arakan, to take shelter with its king. But he disappeared into oblivion there – whatever happened there is still a mystery today.
“After Vireshvijay’s messenger fell into the hands of the East India Company in Surajgarha, they knew that he was holed up in the Khirkhiriya Hills. The Khirkhiriya Hills were then part of the zamindary kingdom of Dvarabhauṋga. Badshah Akbar had given them to Mahesh Thakur as a feudal estate. During Miirkáshim’s time the Khirkhiriya region was controlled by the king of Dvarabhauṋga from his residential offices in Khaŕagpur.(16)
“At the time that Vireshvijay was wandering in the Khirkhiriya Hills, the director of the Kharagpur Zamindary offices was his maternal uncle, Mohankrisna Mitra. The East India Company didn’t know that Vireshvijay was Mohan Mitra’s nephew. Mohan Mitra was well-aware of the steely character and fiery behaviour of his sister’s son. He also understood that his nephew was carrying out the instructions of his father. So despite the fact that Vireshvijay was the same age as his own son, he showed him the greatest respect and helped him in every way possible.
“The East India Company surrounded the Khirkhiriya Hills with their troops in an effort to trap Vireshvijay, who got word of this through his uncle. Through similar means, Vireshvijay discovered the cave where King Karna’s treasure-store was hidden, however the treasure was no longer there. Someone, it seemed, had emptied the cave of all its wealth after King Karna had left. Vireshvijay was only able to get a hold of three Siinaks [a gold coin].” Then my visitor pointed out the cave to me with his finger. It was very close to where I was sitting.
“It is a very small cave,” he continued. “A few miles to the southwest of this hill is a cave with paintings from the Buddhist era, and to the east is Rśikuńd́a. Nowadays people have forgotten its history, so they say that it is the ashram of the Rśyashrnga Muni mentioned in the Ramayana. Actually there was Buddhist monastery here during the Buddhist era. On the western edge of these mountains you will find the grave of Jamal Minya. Jamal Minya came here from Rajnagar in Birbhum and was the first to propagate Islam in this area. This place was named Jamalpur after him.
“Yes, I was talking about Rajnagar. Rajnagar is now a very small city but at one time it was the district headquarters. During the Mughal era, certain districts in the Province of Bengal were extremely large (Monghyr, Silet, Birbhum, Mymensingh, Purnia, etc.). In many districts the district administrator was called the Jilá Hákim but in Birbhum and Purnia he was called the Baŕá Hakim or governor. The governor of Birbhum used to live in Rajnagar. The last governor, Alinakhii Khan II, only ruled Birbhum for a short time, and Purnia’s last governor, Shaokatjang,(17) after being defeated in the Katihar war by Siraj-ud-Daola, was removed from the post of Purnia’s baŕá hákim.
“Anyhow, this Jamal Minya came from Rajnagar. Later the area of Birbhum district was reduced and the district headquarters was shifted from Rajnagar to Suri. Various cultural artifacts are scattered throughout our Angadesh but who is there to point them out? Angadesh’s condition is like that of an orphaned child. What to speak of Angadesh, a great part of India is in the same condition today. Where will the historical materials come from if we continue to neglect these cultural artifacts? Nearby, for example, near Kahalgaon (Áńt́ichak) was the Vikramshila university from the Buddhist age but how much research has been done on it? Yet, nowadays thousands of universities are springing up like mushrooms.”
My visitor paused for a moment, then said softly: “I am talking a lot, quite a lot. But you don’t seem to be annoyed at all. Of course, these are all your thoughts. They are only coming out of my mouth.”
Then he continued. “Vireshvijay began to worry that the Company had picked up his trail and might capture him at any time and persecute him. There was also the danger that they would learn about the work he had just begun with the help of his followers among the Bágdiis in Rarh and make them suffer greatly for it. One cannot bear to think about it. What kind of a future would Bengal have? Would Mother Bengal pass her days crying? Would the time he had spent on the earth go in vain? This is what Vireshvijay was thinking that night, seated in this very spot around 8:30 in the evening. Perhaps the next morning the Company would catch up with him. Vireshvijay slowly made his way down to the rain-swollen falls and plunged into its waters. Within moments his body was swept up in the current and carried down into a deep cavern, from there to a lake, then to the Dakra river and finally to the Ganges. There was no one to attend funeral services for this twenty-three year old, ideologically-dedicated young man. No one even knew his history.
Ye phul náphut́ite jhareche dharańiite
Ye nadii marupathe hárála dhárá.
[That unbloomed flower that has been cast off in the world.
That river whose current loses itself in the desert.]
My visitor looked at me for a short while and then said: “I think you also feel something for Vireshvijay.”
“What do you mean, ‘something’. My mind is filled with sorrow for him.”
“This is what I thought, and exactly what I wanted. Now your watch is showing 8:27. Please sit here for another three minutes, that is, until 8:30. I know you’ll be late returning home, but I beg you to please stay another three minutes. I am going down to the falls.”
“Don’t go too close to the waterfall,” I requested. “These falls have a very strong current, as you can see; it will be dangerous for you to go too close.”
My visitor slowly made his way down to the falls and stood there. He looked once at the sky, once at the ground, once at the forest before him and once at me. One leg was very close to the falls. I called out to him: “Take your left foot away from the falls. If you step back you may fall in.” A soft smile appeared on his bright face and he brought his foot forward. I said: “You were telling me such a long story, but you see, I have committed a great mistake by not asking your name.”
“No, no. You haven’t made a mistake. I am the one who has made a mistake. My offence is that I am a gentleman, from a good family, but still I haven’t introduced myself. I should have given you my name as soon as we first met. Please forgive me.”
I did not know what to say. Again he repeated: “Please tell me that you forgive me.”
“There is no question of forgiveness,” I said. “If you want to tell me your name then you can.”
“I am that Vireshvijay Vasumallik,” he replied. Saying this, he threw himself into the water. The rapids flung his body around violently and carried him off towards a deep cavern. After that his body sank and disappeared from sight. A sudden strong gust of wind blew at my back from the direction of the forest. Then the gust of wind started blowing towards the mountain in front of me. All around me I could hear the sound soṋ, soṋ, soṋ [[sound of the wind]]. If someone else had been there they would not have heard anything else, but in the middle of this soṋ-soṋ sound I could hear Vireshvijay’s last words má-má-má go [“mother, mother, oh my dear mother”]. With steadfast eyes I looked at the rapids. Unknowingly, my eyes lighted on a few drops of water. In all directions one could hear the hills reverberating with the sound – má-má-má go.
That day there was a strong, sweet breeze coming from the forest behind me and blowing out towards the mountain in front. I started feeling a little drowsy, having worked more than normal that day.
I started nodding off but after a time I heard what sounded like someone approaching me from behind. I turned around to look and saw a fair-skinned person wearing western clothes. I was somewhat surprised, for three reasons. First of all, it was extremely unlikely that anyone would be in that area after the sun went down. Secondly, though there was a lot of forest, even thieves would not dare come to cut wood for fear of wild animals. Thirdly, in those days western clothes were completely out of place there.
Though this was the time of British rule, everyone knew that Westerners never came anywhere near such places. I asked him in English: “Who are you?” Looking at him, I could see that he was a real gentleman but he approached me without replying. He started looking around in all directions until his eyes came to rest on the valley in front of us. This time I asked him in Angika who he was and what he was doing there so late at night in such a deserted place. In those days such places were not completely safe. Then he answered me in a very soft and sweet, but unnatural, Bengali. “As long as you are here I’m not at all afraid.”
I was speechless. At any rate, his face bore the stamp of a gentle, courteous soul. As best as I could see in the moonlight he looked to be about twenty-three or twenty-four years old and from a good family. I invited him to sit down on the rock next to me. He thanked me politely and sat down. As he sat, I felt a change in the environment around me, as if someone had fashioned a dream world out of the power of máyá.
“I am very near and dear to you,” he said. “You know me but perhaps nowadays you’ve forgotten me.” I gazed at him and noticed his unblinking eyes. It was as if all the wonder in the world, a fathomless magic collyrium, was contained in those eyes. My ears pricked up to hear what he had to say and I looked at him carefully. His body did not seem to be of this earth. Somehow it seemed to be made of light and shadow… as if I was watching a talking picture.
Seating my guest near me, I asked him in Angika: “Are you one of our Angadesh boys?”
“No,” he replied, “but I have been here so long that I have become one with the soil. I love Angadesh with all my heart.”
“Why have you come to this solitary wilderness so late at night? By looking at you it seems to me that you’ve been here before.”
“You are quite right. I often come here; rather, you can say I come here daily.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you’ll give me a few moments of your time,” he replied, “there are a few things I’d like to say. If I start bothering you, please let me know and I’ll stop.”
Then my visitor continued speaking. “This happened a long time ago, at the end of the Mughal Period when the kingdom was in disarray. At that time the capital of the Province of Bengal (Bengal, Bihar and Orissa) was Murshidabad, and there was a zamindar in Singur (Hoogly district – at that time Burdwan district) by the name of Virendravijay Vásumallik. Although he was a small zamindar he was a man of strong and independent thought. While the other zamindars were indulging in addictions and luxuries, he was not. He was directing all sorts of efforts to preserve the freedom of Bengali culture, civilization, and way of life.
“He was quite dissatisfied with the character and comportment of weaker-minded men like Nawab Alivardii Khán. The nawab should have made the governmental machinery strong by making sure the commander-in-chief and the subedars(1) did their respective jobs properly; on the one hand to develop Bengal’s military prowess and on the other hand to firm up its economic structure, but he failed to do this. While it is true that he was a man of good qualities, and his character, as such, was unstained, still, in matters of character and comportment he was prone to weakness at every step – something which his wife, Lady Sharf-Un-Nisá, was unable to check or hold together despite much effort. He used to hide many things from his wife.
“At that time the Marathas of the Bhonsale family used to attack quite often. Those attacks, which were under the leadership of Bháskar Pańd́it, were extremely bloody. The nawab was unable to make any provisions to resist them. This conduct of his was completely unpardonable. Rather, in order to avoid war, he was somehow able to strike a truce with the Marathas by giving them one fourth of the collected state revenue. When the Marathas arrived in Katoya, throwing Rarh into complete disorder, Alivardii Khan became aware of the danger but the nawab was not able to mount any resistance from Poŕahát (Seraikelá-Kharsoán) to any part of Katoya. This weak conduct of the nawab continued to afflict the mind of the Bengali people.
“Many of those who were wealthy took shelter in Calcutta and in Angadesh out of fear of the attacks of the Marathas. While the Marathas were skilled in land battle they were not known for their naval skill. Thus, to save Calcutta from Maratha attack, a ditch was dug to the northeast of Calcutta – today it is known by the name ‘Maratha ditch’. Seeing that he was being routed by the Marathas, the nawab committed yet another blunder. He took four large districts, Burdwan (what is today Burdwan, Hoogli, Howrah, and Jamtara), Midnapur, Chittagong, and the 24 Paragana, formed from the the eastern portion of Nadia-Chakla, and delivered them into the hands of the East India Company with the condition that the East India Company would help the nawab turn back the Marathas. The people of Bengal did not like this behaviour of the Nawab – the freedom-loving Virendravijay Vasumallik was completely against it.
“Seeing the bad condition that Bengal was in at that time, Shobhá Singh, the king of Midnapore’s Ceŕiyábeŕiyá came forward. Shobhá Singh was as brave in character as he was firm. Most of the people of Bengal wanted him to be king of all of Bengal. The British also secretly wanted this and thus supported him from behind the scenes. Shobhá Singh saw that the British had come to his country to do business and realized that if they were afforded convenient business opportunities their friendship could be won, but two people were thorns in Shobha Singh’s path. One was Maharaja Bahadur of Burdwan. He was not a man of strong character but he was Bengal’s biggest zamindar.(2) In a secret corner of his mind he felt that he had the greatest right to be Bengal’s king. The second thorn in Shobhá Singh’s principled, strong-charactered path was the king of Mallabhúm (Biśńupur of Bánkurá district) – Raghunáth the Second (There is some difference of opinion in this matter).
“Raghunáth was a man of vacillating character, a symbol of poor conduct. Forgetting his family’s illustrious tradition, he became infatuated with a certain Persian dancer by the name of Lalbai(3) and made up his mind to marry her. This fueled a dispute with the queen and with his ministers. Finally he met his death at the hands of the queen (Shobhá Singh’s daughter). This Lalbai was probably killed at this time.(4) Anyhow, as a result of his own conduct Shobhá Singh came into conflict with Raghunáth the Second.
“The king of Singur, Virendravijay, helped Shobhá Singh in many ways. He was not afraid of incurring the Nawab’s displeasure for this but Shobhá Singh was stabbed and killed unexpectedly by the Princess of Burdwan.(5) After the death of Shobhá Singh, Virendravijay was wondering what path should be taken to save Bengal. After the death of Alivardii Khan, his immature grandson became the nawab of Bengal, taking the name Miirza Mohammed Siraj-Ud-Daola.(6) In addition to his young age, he had many kinds of defects in his character and conduct. Virendravijay did not like this at all.
“At the time the East India Company was encroaching like a cat extending its claws, trying to gain control of the throne of Bengal by any means possible. On the other side, the public was divided into three camps. One group was vocally against the conduct and character of Siraj. Directly and indirectly, they supplied help to the East India Company.
“A second group supported the nawab regardless of his faults, following the policy of nun khái yár gun gái tár [if you eat someone’s salt then you have to praise their virtues]. Miirzafar, Jagatsheth, and Umichand(7) fell into this category. Among them were also a few men who recognized the faults of the nawab but who did not want to allow the administration of Bengal to pass into the hands of the East India Company. For this reason alone they supported the nawab.
“The third group consisted of those who could not support the bad behaviour of the nawab but who also did not want to allow the East India Company to gain political control over Bengal. They supported neither side. Queen Bhávanii was of this mind. Her relationship with the nawab was extremely bitter. Yet, when she was asked to help the East India Company against the nawab, she said: ‘I do not want to dig a canal to bring the river crocodiles into my backyard pond.’ Because of this the East India Company was quite displeased with Queen Bhavánii. Virendravijay was of the same opinion as the queen. Thus it was impossible for him to do anything either for or against the nawab.
“There was one more thing worth mentioning about these last days of Mughal political dominance. The Bengali people were unable to consider the family of the nawab of Murshidabad as their own. No matter how much fuss and bother the writers and historians of today make over Siraj, the family of Murshidabad’s nawab were very distant from the common people of Bengal. It was not only that they were Urdu-speaking immigrant Shiahs;(8) though they had settled in Bengal and were Bengalees in the eyes of the law, they did not think of themselves as Bengalees. They called the Bengalees ‘rustics’ or ‘Muslim rustics’.(9) Of course, they learned to speak Bengali, more or less, so that they could communicate with these Muslim rustics, but at home they spoke Urdu or a corrupted form of Urdu that was mixed with Bengali, and put on airs that they were not out-of-fashion Bengalees. This mental attitude kept them quite removed from the common people.
“If a person is great, if their mental arena is very large, then people lose sight of their worldly identity. Because Siraj’s character was not very expanded there is no scope for people to forget his worldly defects. It is true that most people accept that he was broad-hearted and generous, but this was not enough for him to gain a seat in the heart of the Bengali people. And he was the nawab for how long!
“Most of the people who supported the nawab were senior Hindu officers. The East India Company put forth their best efforts to try to please the Hindus so that they would withdraw their support from Siraj.
“Virendravijay died shortly after the battle of Plassey. At the time of his death he told his only son, Vireshvijay, that he should dedicate himself wholeheartedly to the task of strengthening Bengal’s culture, unity and economic situation, and asked him to use both his intellect and his courage rightly in this matter. At the time Vireshvijay was a boy of eighteen or nineteen. Vireshvijay carried out the instructions of his father and became well-versed in the martial treatises.
“Neither Virendravijay nor Vireshvijay could support Mirzafar. Mirzafar was an indisciplined, power-hungry, spineless drunkard. His main preoccupation was to keep his nawabship intact by whatever means possible. For some time after his death the throne of Bengal was thrown into confusion. Thereafter Miirkashim became the nawab. His conduct was spirited, his behaviour showed individuality, and he was a man of strong character. Vireshvijay came into contact with him and Miirkashim befriended him, touched by his sincerity.
“In those days the throne was the nawab’s in name only. The power was in the hands of the East India Company; the administration was in the hands of the nawab but the economic power was not. Moreover, if one was to repel the East India Company, it would not be possible to accumulate power by sitting in Murshidabad because Murshidabad was right next to the East India Company’s chief outpost. Vireshvijay advised Miirkashim to shift his capital from Murshidabad to Monghyr. He did not advise him to remove his capital to Azimabad (Patna) because Azimabad was, to some extent, a centre for the East India Company.
“There were one or two other reasons for making Monghyr the capital of Bengal. During the time of the Mahabharata, when Angadesh was first accepted as an independent kingdom, Duryodhana made Karna the king of Angadesh and rather than consider him a vassal, he allowed him to wear the crown of a sovereign king. Since ancient times the Anga region was not considered part of northern India. Neither Anga, Vanga, nor Kalinga were considered part of northern India. Starting from this time, Anga was declared an appendix or auṋga of northern India and hence its name became Angadesh. Vanga remained outside of northern India. Kalinga gained acceptance as a part of southern India. Thus, even today, Oriya Brahmins are sometimes known as Dakśińátya Vedic Brahmins in Bengal. At the time of Karna the capital of Angadesh was Champakanagar.(10) Karna also founded an auxiliary capital in Mudgagiri, on the western border of the kingdom of Anga. Hence Monghyr has a tradition as a capital.(11)
“When Gujarat’s Rastrakuts [a royal dynasty] defeated eastern India then Angadesh came under their jurisdiction. The Khirkhiriya Hills that we are sitting on were the eastern boundary of the Rastrakut kingdom. Thus they established a capital in their border city of Mungagiri. So we see that Monghyr became a capital more than once. At that time the road system of Bengal, as well as India, was not at all developed. The long highway Shershah built that extended from Suvarnagram in Dhaka District to the city of Át́ak in western Punjab via Teota (Mańikganj subdivision) and Howrah-Burdwan, and passing by Calcutta, did not afford much convenience to Murshidabad, Monghyr or Patna but Monghyr’s water-route transport system was good. The waterway worked well all the way from Dhaka to Benares/Allahabad passing via Narayanganj, Teota, Rampur, Boyaliya (Rajsahii), Lalagola Ghat, Godagarii Ghat, Chapaghati, Rajmahal (At one time Rajmahal was the capital of Bengal), Bhagalpur, Monghyr, and Azimabad. Benares and Allahabad used to be helped out by the Shershah-built Badshahii road. Thus, since Monghyr was marked as an important centre of water transport, the capital could be established there without there being any communication problems as such.
“Miirkashim accepted Vireshvijay’s reasoning and moved the capital to Monghyr. On Vireshvijay’s advice, the nawab set out preparing the capital in Monghyr with great speed and began constructing his armoury. A great fortress was built in Monghyr as well as a munitions factory, heavy-weapons arsenal, huge parade grounds (Karheya Maidan or Kora Maidan), and a new cultural centre, Kasimbazar. The East India Company recognized the danger. Seizing on various small pretexts they declared war against Miirkashim. They had economic power and were prepared for war – the nawab had nothing. He had just begun organizing. On the other side, the East India Company had concentrated their power at Fort William in Calcutta and in Alinagar (present-day Alipur, now a part of Calcutta).
“The first battle was a trifling affair; it took place in Katoya and the nawab was defeated. The second battle took place in Gheriya and there also the nawab was defeated. The third took place in Udhuya or in the Udhuyanala. The East India Company advanced along the Ganges in the direction of Monghyr. A great battle took place in the Dakra canal. With his finger my visitor pointed out to me the Dakra canal which originated on the western border of the Khirkhiriya Hills and joined the Ganges a little to the west of Monghyr. In reality, the Dakra was not a canal but a river. In the East India Company records it is mistakenly called a canal. At the time of the monsoon deluge, the water of the Ganges goes upstream through the Dakra River and floods a wide area in Monghyr District. At the time my visitor pointed out the Dakra canal there was heavy flooding.
“When the nawab was defeated in the battle of Dakra canal he started heading by water for Azimabad. The map and plans of the next battle site remained in the hands of Vireshvijay. The planning of how the next battle in Buxar and on the banks of the nearby Karmanasha river could be fought was not in the hands of the nawab. All he knew was that there would be a battle fought in those places. Vireshvijay got separated during the fighting and fell back a little south. He was not able to reach the banks of the Ganges and go upriver to Azimabad. But the warplans and maps were in his hands so he took shelter in the jungle of the Khirkhiriya Hills.
“Another of the nawab’s chief difficulties was his severe lack of economic resources. Vireshvijay knew that King Karna’s huge treasury was secretly preserved in a cave in the Khirkhiriya Hills. He set about searching for that treasure thinking that if it came into his hands he would much better be able to help the nawab.
“At this point I should say something about the history of Angadesh’s terrain. In Karna’s time the north of Angadesh bordered on the Himalayas.(12) The southern border was the source of the Chandan river, a little to the north of Deoghar. On the western border was Ramdiri and Shamhodira (Samidha), near Beguserai, and the eastern border was the Rajmahal Hills near Sahebganj where they approach the Ganges. The Rajmahal Hills range occupy a large area in eastern Angadesh. Their eastern branch stops abruptly near Sahebganj and the Ganges; its western branch ends near Monghyr by the side of the Ganges. The western branch’s Sanskrit name is the Kśirakśirika Hills. In Angika they are called Khirkhiriya Hills and in English the Kharagpur Hills. These Kharagpur Hills are a branch of the Rajmahal Hills.
“Southern Anga’s chief river is the Chandan which has two companions, the Baruya and the Chiir. In this Chandan-Baruya-Chiir river basin(13) one finds the Kalhan Hills (near Kahalgaon, named after Maharsi Kalhan), Ajagavii Hills (near Sulatanganj), Mandar Hills(14) (a little north of the railway station), and these Khirkhiriya Hills on the western border where one can find, scattered here and there, innumerable examples of the culture of ancient Angadesh. Like the Angika culture, the language also belongs to this place.
“Those who think that the Khirkhiriya Hills are the western border of Angadesh, however, are mistaken. To the west of the Khirkhiriya Hills lies the Dakra river basin. This Dakra river basin is Anga’s final western border. Beyond the Dakra river basin lies the Kiul river basin where one can find many examples of Magadha culture, that is, it belongs to the land of Magadha.
“The Angika language has three chief dialects: Dharamapuriya, Champanagarii or Chekachekii, and Mangeriya. The Dharamapuriya dialect is spoken on the north bank of the Ganges. The Chekachekii dialect is spoken in far eastern region where the Rajmahal Hills approach the Ganges near Sahebganj, and in the western border area where the Khirkhiriya Hills stop near the Ganges. Miirzachauki, near Sahebganj, was at the border of the provinces of Bengal and Bihar during the time of Akbar. Miirzachauki was a busy checkpost. It occupied a narrow strip of land between the Ganges and the mountains and thus was an ideal spot for a checkpost. The Mungeriya dialect is prevalent to the west of the Khirkhiriya Hills in the Dakra River basin.
“Besides these, there are also two mixed sub-dialects of Angika: The first is the Shriipuriya sub-dialect which is used in the region lying between Purnia and Kisanganj. Purnia’s language is Angika, and Bengali is the language of Kisanganj. The Shriipuriya language that is spoken in the interlying areas is a mixture of Angika and Raunapurii Bengali (Súryapurii). The second sub-dialect is the Northern Khotta dialect which is used in the region between Katihar and Maldah. The language of Katihar is Angika, and in Maldah, Bengali. In certain places between the two one can find this Northern Khotta sub-dialect. It is a mixture of Angika and Shershahabad Bengali. In Mungeriya Angika one can find some influence of Magahii. Similarly, in the Magahii of the Kiul River basin there is some influence of Angika.”
“As I was saying,” my visitor continued, “I hope I am not annoying you by talking for so long. Earlier I told you that I loved Angadesh with all my heart. So when the topic of Anga comes up, I start going on without any hesitation. Then afterwards, I think to myself that I hope I haven’t annoyed whoever I’ve been talking to.”
“Why should I be annoyed,” I replied. “Rather, I’m quite astonished; I wonder how you came to know so much at such an early age.”
The light and shadow body of my visitor trembled as he spoke. “These are all your own thoughts. Earlier I said that I am in your mind. So your thoughts are coming out from my mouth.”
“Yes,” he continued. “Vireshvijay started searching the forest of the Khirkhiriya Hills for Karna’s ‘treasury’ in order to save it from the hands of the East India Company. Do you know,” he added, “when I visit these hills I feel as if my entire being is overwhelmed by that Vireshvijay. It feels as if I am also searching someone in these hills and in this forest. Shall I say one more thing?… Please don’t mind. Please say you won’t mind.”
“No, I won’t mind,” I replied. “Go ahead.”
“Now,” he continued, “it seems to me as if I have come searching for you.”
I stared at him, speechless. There was the whisper of a smile on his guileless face.
“After a few days’ search, Vireshvijay came across one of his faithful followers. He entrusted him with the secret plans and maps as well as various urgent matters and sent him to the nawab in Buxar. It was impossible for him to go himself. It would not have been so bad if he himself were caught, but it was essential that the war documents not fall into the hands of the Company. But to the good fortune of the East India Company and the misfortune of Bengal, his follower was caught by the Company near Surajgara. He was killed and the Company learned of the movements of both Vireshvijay and the nawab.
“The Company dispatched a large advance army to Buxar and the bank of the Karmanasha River where they laid in ambush waiting to draw up battle formation. Needless to say, Miirkashim lost the battle of Buxar and was completely routed in the battle of the Karmanasha. He had neither manpower nor economic resources. Disheartened, he went first to Zamaniya, then later to Gazipur. At the time Gazipur was under the control of Agra Province. The East India Company’s direct rule had not yet been established there. In poor health and with a broken spirit, Miirkashim breathed his last in Gazipur. The nawab of Bengal, Bihar and Orissa, Miirkashim, died like an ordinary man, or not even, since no one dared to give him a proper burial for fear of the East India Company. Simply a hole was dug and he was thrown in. Even this was washed away and vanished when the Ganges flooded.
“When he received news of the nawab’s death,” my visitor went on, “Vireshvijay became very sad but he didn’t fall apart. He decided to leave the Khirkhiriyá valley and head for Rarh. There he thought to build a new army with the help of the Bágdiis [a fighting community belonging to the lower strata of society].
“In fact,” he went on, “Vireshvijay was sitting and thinking in the very spot where you are sitting now, thinking and thinking.
“I was telling you about Gazipur City. Lord Cornwallis introduced a permanent land settlement for the landed property of Bengal Presidency. Before introducing the land settlement in Bengal, he went first to Gazipur District to make the same arrangements for the province of Agra.(15) Gazipur was at that time a huge district. Later, the eastern portion of this district was separated and a new district was formed called Baliyá (Bahlik). When Cornwallis arrived in Gazipur city he fell ill and died there. His tomb is still there today.
“Yes, since Mughal times, the city of Gazipur has been famous for rosewater and attar. This fame still continues to some extent. Rabindranath Tagore’s elder brother, Satyendranath Tagore, was the District Magistrate of Gazipur city. It was in his government residence that Rabindranath wrote his book Naokád́ubi [The Wreck].
“Talking about Gazipur reminds me again of Monghyr. Shahjahan’s son, Suja, had the same kind of relationship with Monghyr that Miirkashim had with Gazipur. He fled the country from Monghyr for fear of his life during the Aurangzeb’s invasion. People today still call the wharf that his barge left from, Sujiighat (Sujá-i-ghát́). Of course, Suja stopped for one night while passing through the city of Bhagalpur in order to draw up his next plans. After that he went to Akiyab, the capital of Arakan, to take shelter with its king. But he disappeared into oblivion there – whatever happened there is still a mystery today.
“After Vireshvijay’s messenger fell into the hands of the East India Company in Surajgarha, they knew that he was holed up in the Khirkhiriya Hills. The Khirkhiriya Hills were then part of the zamindary kingdom of Dvarabhauṋga. Badshah Akbar had given them to Mahesh Thakur as a feudal estate. During Miirkáshim’s time the Khirkhiriya region was controlled by the king of Dvarabhauṋga from his residential offices in Khaŕagpur.(16)
“At the time that Vireshvijay was wandering in the Khirkhiriya Hills, the director of the Kharagpur Zamindary offices was his maternal uncle, Mohankrisna Mitra. The East India Company didn’t know that Vireshvijay was Mohan Mitra’s nephew. Mohan Mitra was well-aware of the steely character and fiery behaviour of his sister’s son. He also understood that his nephew was carrying out the instructions of his father. So despite the fact that Vireshvijay was the same age as his own son, he showed him the greatest respect and helped him in every way possible.
“The East India Company surrounded the Khirkhiriya Hills with their troops in an effort to trap Vireshvijay, who got word of this through his uncle. Through similar means, Vireshvijay discovered the cave where King Karna’s treasure-store was hidden, however the treasure was no longer there. Someone, it seemed, had emptied the cave of all its wealth after King Karna had left. Vireshvijay was only able to get a hold of three Siinaks [a gold coin].” Then my visitor pointed out the cave to me with his finger. It was very close to where I was sitting.
“It is a very small cave,” he continued. “A few miles to the southwest of this hill is a cave with paintings from the Buddhist era, and to the east is Rśikuńd́a. Nowadays people have forgotten its history, so they say that it is the ashram of the Rśyashrnga Muni mentioned in the Ramayana. Actually there was Buddhist monastery here during the Buddhist era. On the western edge of these mountains you will find the grave of Jamal Minya. Jamal Minya came here from Rajnagar in Birbhum and was the first to propagate Islam in this area. This place was named Jamalpur after him.
“Yes, I was talking about Rajnagar. Rajnagar is now a very small city but at one time it was the district headquarters. During the Mughal era, certain districts in the Province of Bengal were extremely large (Monghyr, Silet, Birbhum, Mymensingh, Purnia, etc.). In many districts the district administrator was called the Jilá Hákim but in Birbhum and Purnia he was called the Baŕá Hakim or governor. The governor of Birbhum used to live in Rajnagar. The last governor, Alinakhii Khan II, only ruled Birbhum for a short time, and Purnia’s last governor, Shaokatjang,(17) after being defeated in the Katihar war by Siraj-ud-Daola, was removed from the post of Purnia’s baŕá hákim.
“Anyhow, this Jamal Minya came from Rajnagar. Later the area of Birbhum district was reduced and the district headquarters was shifted from Rajnagar to Suri. Various cultural artifacts are scattered throughout our Angadesh but who is there to point them out? Angadesh’s condition is like that of an orphaned child. What to speak of Angadesh, a great part of India is in the same condition today. Where will the historical materials come from if we continue to neglect these cultural artifacts? Nearby, for example, near Kahalgaon (Áńt́ichak) was the Vikramshila university from the Buddhist age but how much research has been done on it? Yet, nowadays thousands of universities are springing up like mushrooms.”
My visitor paused for a moment, then said softly: “I am talking a lot, quite a lot. But you don’t seem to be annoyed at all. Of course, these are all your thoughts. They are only coming out of my mouth.”
Then he continued. “Vireshvijay began to worry that the Company had picked up his trail and might capture him at any time and persecute him. There was also the danger that they would learn about the work he had just begun with the help of his followers among the Bágdiis in Rarh and make them suffer greatly for it. One cannot bear to think about it. What kind of a future would Bengal have? Would Mother Bengal pass her days crying? Would the time he had spent on the earth go in vain? This is what Vireshvijay was thinking that night, seated in this very spot around 8:30 in the evening. Perhaps the next morning the Company would catch up with him. Vireshvijay slowly made his way down to the rain-swollen falls and plunged into its waters. Within moments his body was swept up in the current and carried down into a deep cavern, from there to a lake, then to the Dakra river and finally to the Ganges. There was no one to attend funeral services for this twenty-three year old, ideologically-dedicated young man. No one even knew his history.
Ye phul náphut́ite jhareche dharańiite
Ye nadii marupathe hárála dhárá.
[That unbloomed flower that has been cast off in the world.
That river whose current loses itself in the desert.]
My visitor looked at me for a short while and then said: “I think you also feel something for Vireshvijay.”
“What do you mean, ‘something’. My mind is filled with sorrow for him.”
“This is what I thought, and exactly what I wanted. Now your watch is showing 8:27. Please sit here for another three minutes, that is, until 8:30. I know you’ll be late returning home, but I beg you to please stay another three minutes. I am going down to the falls.”
“Don’t go too close to the waterfall,” I requested. “These falls have a very strong current, as you can see; it will be dangerous for you to go too close.”
My visitor slowly made his way down to the falls and stood there. He looked once at the sky, once at the ground, once at the forest before him and once at me. One leg was very close to the falls. I called out to him: “Take your left foot away from the falls. If you step back you may fall in.” A soft smile appeared on his bright face and he brought his foot forward. I said: “You were telling me such a long story, but you see, I have committed a great mistake by not asking your name.”
“No, no. You haven’t made a mistake. I am the one who has made a mistake. My offence is that I am a gentleman, from a good family, but still I haven’t introduced myself. I should have given you my name as soon as we first met. Please forgive me.”
I did not know what to say. Again he repeated: “Please tell me that you forgive me.”
“There is no question of forgiveness,” I said. “If you want to tell me your name then you can.”
“I am that Vireshvijay Vasumallik,” he replied. Saying this, he threw himself into the water. The rapids flung his body around violently and carried him off towards a deep cavern. After that his body sank and disappeared from sight. A sudden strong gust of wind blew at my back from the direction of the forest. Then the gust of wind started blowing towards the mountain in front of me. All around me I could hear the sound soṋ, soṋ, soṋ [[sound of the wind]]. If someone else had been there they would not have heard anything else, but in the middle of this soṋ-soṋ sound I could hear Vireshvijay’s last words má-má-má go [“mother, mother, oh my dear mother”]. With steadfast eyes I looked at the rapids. Unknowingly, my eyes lighted on a few drops of water. In all directions one could hear the hills reverberating with the sound – má-má-má go.
