My Reminiscences by Rabindranath Tagore (free children's ebooks pdf .TXT) ๐
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Rabindranath Tagore, sometimes referred to as the Bard of Bengal, was a poet, composer, and artist active in the latter half of the 19th century and the first half of the 20th century. His poetry had a profound impact on Bengali literatureโso much so that in 1913 he became the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize in Literature.
Today Tagore is recognized for transforming Bengali art, moving it away from its classical forms by embracing the Bengal Renaissance. Though his artistic output spanned many disciplines, his most famous is perhaps Gitanjali, his collection of poems that he himself later translated to English. His impact on Indian and Bengali letters can be exemplified by the fact that two of his compositions were chosen as national anthemsโโJana Gana Manaโ for India, and โAmar Shonar Banglaโ for Bangladeshโand that the Sri Lankan national anthem was inspired by his work.
In these autobiographical sketches Tagore gives us windows into his childhood, his youth, and his blossoming as a writer and as a lyricist. He stresses that this is not an autobiography, but more like a palimpsest of memories: glimmers and shadows that illustrate his artistic development, not a strict record of his life.
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- Author: Rabindranath Tagore
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To be plain, so long as this academy lived Rajendrahal Mitra did everything single-handed. He began with geographical terms. The draft list was made out by Dr. Rajendrahal himself and was printed and circulated for the suggestions of the members. We had also an idea of transliterating in Bengali the name of each foreign country as pronounced by itself.
Pandit Vidyasagarโs prophecy was fulfilled. It did not prove possible to get the big wigs to do anything. And the academy withered away shortly after sprouting. But Rajendrahal Mitra was an all-round expert and was an academy in himself. My labours in this cause were more than repaid by the privilege of his acquaintance. I have met many Bengali men of letters in my time but none who left the impression of such brilliance.
I used to go and see him in the office of the Court of Wards in Maniktala. I would go in the mornings and always find him busy with his studies, and with the inconsiderateness of youth, I felt no hesitation in disturbing him. But I have never seen him the least bit put out on that account. As soon as he saw me he would put aside his work and begin to talk to me. It is a matter of common knowledge that he was somewhat hard of hearing, so he hardly ever gave me occasion to put him any question. He would take up some broad subject and talk away upon it, and it was the attraction of these discourses which drew me there. Converse with no other person ever gave me such a wealth of suggestive ideas on so many different subjects. I would listen enraptured.
I think he was a member of the textbook committee and every book he received for approval, he read through and annotated in pencil. On some occasions he would select one of these books for the text of discourses on the construction of the Bengali language in particular or philology in general, which were of the greatest benefit to me. There were few subjects which he had not studied and anything he had studied he could clearly expound.
If we had not relied on the other members of the Academy we had tried to found, but left everything to Dr. Rajendrahal, the present Sahitya Parishat would have doubtless found the matters it is now occupied with left in a much more advanced state by that one man alone.
Dr. Rajendrahal Mitra was not only a profound scholar, but he had likewise a striking personality which shone through his features. Full of fire as he was in his public life, he could also unbend graciously so as to talk on the most difficult subjects to a stripling like myself without any trace of a patronising tone. I even took advantage of his condescension to the extent of getting a contribution, Yamaโs Dog, from him for the Bharati. There were other great contemporaries of his with whom I would not have ventured to take such liberties, nor would I have met with the like response if I had.
And yet when he was on the war path his opponents on the Municipal Corporation or the Senate of the University were mortally afraid of him. In those days Kristo Das Pal was the tactful politician, and Rajendrahal Mitra the valiant fighter.
For the purposes of the Asiatic Societyโs publications and researches, he had to employ a number of Sanskrit Pandits to do the mechanical work for him. I remember how this gave certain envious and mean-minded detractors the opportunity of saying that everything was really done by these Pandits while Rajendrahal fraudulently appropriated all the credit. Even today we very often find the tools arrogating to themselves the lionโs share of the achievement, imagining the wielder to be a mere ornamental figurehead. If the poor pen had a mind it would as certainly have bemoaned the unfairness of its getting all the stain and the writer all the glory!
It is curious that this extraordinary man should have got no recognition from his countrymen even after his death. One of the reasons may be that the national mourning for Vidyasagar, whose death followed shortly after, left no room for a recognition of the other bereavement. Another reason may be that his main contributions being outside the pale of Bengali literature, he had been unable to reach the heart of the people.
XXXVI KarwarOur Sudder Street party next transferred itself to Karwar on the West Sea coast. Karwar is the headquarters of the Kanara district in the Southern portion of the Bombay Presidency. It is the tract of the Malaya Hills of Sanskrit literature where grow the cardamom creeper and the sandal tree. My second brother was then Judge there.
The little harbour, ringed round with hills, is so secluded that it has nothing of the aspect of a port about it. Its crescent shaped beach throws out its arms to the shoreless open sea like the very image of an eager striving to embrace the infinite. The edge of the broad sandy beach is fringed with a forest of casuarinas, broken at one end by the Kalanadi river which here flows into the sea after passing through a gorge flanked by rows of hills on either side.
I remember how one moonlit evening we went up this river in a little boat. We stopped at one of Shivajiโs old hill
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