Sivasagar Tourist Lodge: A Homeless bird on the Ocean’s edge…

Sivasagar Tourist Lodge: A Homeless bird on the Ocean’s edge…

Emon NC.

The view exudes the very essence of Sivasagar town.

The morning sun softly bouncing off the waters of Borpukhuri, (Sivasagar Tank), a light breeze creating soft ripples on its surface and the silhouette of the Siva dol and Devi dol rising out of the mist covered landscape, bringing in the mystical magic of history and the riveting, romance of heritage…

Every single day for, for the many many years, the feeble light of the early morning sun, carrying the soul of the placid waters, weaving through the incents and the earthen lamps of the nearby temples, brushing past the faith and devotion of the multitude that hangs in the air like morning dew…touches upon or rather caresses an old building occupying a silent corner of the Borpukhuri… The Sivasagar Tourist Lodge.

A half-moon shaped driveway, passes through an extended portico with ornate wooden beams supporting a slanting tin roof and bordering a garden where multihued flowers sprout in their own melodic rhythm. From a central area the building extends both ways, like two arms spread wide to embrace the changing winds of time.

A long verandah runs from one end of the building to the other and all along its path were wooden doors marked with numbers. Rooms for guests…rooms for reminiscence. From the portico one steps on to a small reception area that holds a worn-outsofa set,a wooden counter adored with exhibits and literature on the unexplored beauty of the state and a key board hanging on the fading pink wall.

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Thehall behind the reception served as a dinning space.The caretaker of the lodge who most of the time doubles up as a cook, doesn’t usually do elaborate dishes. But a simple dal, rice and smashed potato becomes an exotic gourmet experience owing to a secret ingredient they use. Locally sourced and grounded into fine power, is a liberal amount of love and a pinch of reverence. And when garnished with the flavor of tradition, each dish becomes a culinary experience unique and inimitable.

The Sivasagar Tourist Lodge, is an unassuming building, like one of the many that surrounds Borpukhuri. Compared to the history of the town, wherefrom the mighty Ahom dominated this region for an unbroken six hundred years, the lodge is fairly new. But if we do away with the historical timeline and pass into the realm of lived memories…for the people who populate this town, the lodge had always been  there…

Tucked away in its own splendor, they talk of a time when it was surrounded by towering teak trees. An inviting woody smell and leaves of teak tree making its journey to the soil mimicking a bassy hushed sound, as though a gust of wind had suddenly hollered through the funnel of dreams.

Like Sivasagar… that holds in its folds, in its every turn and twist a fable of the past, the lodge with its  aging pillars, the half walls of  fading colors, the slanting, rusting tin roof, the round iron grill of the windows, beds fashioned with hooks to  slip in sticks to hold mosquito nets, the musty old smell of the floor and aneternal dampness akin tosome glassy eyes brimming with tears, holds million slices of personal histories….And foraging through those slices of history, one finds, like a flower growing in the wild, untended and uncared…and almost forgotten, the rumination of two men: Bhupen Hazarika and Nirode Chaudhury.

For both men, Sivasagar Tourist Lodge held a special significance. Just like a song or a piece of literature, requires a context, a hazy backdrop to mold itself into an authentic, accessible and alluring expression of art. The lodge formed the context, the germination point…the womb that nurtured and gave birth to many of the time defying creative endeavors of both men. In Christianity, Mother Mary’s divinity rests on the very fact that out of all the women in the world God choose her womb to make the journey into this world.

The tourist lodge steepedin its rustic simplicity and dreamy forethought allowed and provided warmth, to the feeble inspiration that both men carried within their being. It nurtured ideas…and helped them grow tall, towering into the height of human excellence. But always had their head bowed to the stony solid structure of the temple and dols…that dot this magnificent town.

Both men had a strange allurefor the room christened as room number one,that stood on the right-hand side of the lodge. Its window opened to the main gate, and swept over the expanse of Borpukhuri, finally settling down on the skyline dominated by the Dol’s. It was a view that never failed to transport and transcend, both men into the deepest recesses or the pure pinnacle of their imagination. When there were in upper Assam, spending a night in the lodge, had somewhat become a necessaryritual.

The morning, noon and night, took on an explosive quality, when both Bhupen Hazarika and Nirode Chaudhury were present together in the lodge. People would make a bee line to meet them, talk to them and listen to their point of view on varied subjects. On one such occasion, on a mist covered morning, both of them were seated at the veranda of the lodge, sipping red tea, lost in their own silence.

They had reached late last night from Guwahati, for some film related work on the tea gardens of upper Assam. Sivasagar was yet to wake up and everything was lost in a deep stillness like a picture post card frozen in a moment of time. The lodge gave out a silent sight, shaking off the bits of slumber that still remained.

From within the folds of the mist, with the sunlight slowing streaming in, emerged a blurry shadow of a man carrying two baskets on his shoulder. Bhupen Hazarika peered at him with interest and rose to his feet.  The man had some sort of a turban on his head and was dressed in a tattered kurta and soiled crumpled pajama. Bhupen walked across the driveway and invited him inside the lodge. Nirode realized that he was a snake charmer…

***

Bhupen Hazarika returned to his seat with a broad smile on his face “Nirode, brace yourself for the show of the lifetime” he said.

The man sat beneath the portico, spread out a piece of cloth on the floor and placed two baskets side by side. Then he took out from his bag, a reed pipe instrument called the “Pungi”. It’s main section is made of dry hollowed gourd which is joined with two bamboo attachment. The charmer began to play the instrument, in some kind of an initiation ceremony. An introduction before the actual show began.

The sharp sound of the “pungi”, pierced through the morning stillness, stirring the floating mist and transporting the lodge and its occupants into some magical, medieval realm. Slowly and silently, like a dried colourless leaf drifting to the ground, everything became wrapped in a mystical feel. Both Bhupen and Nirode, keenly observed the man and floated high, low and flat to the music of his instrument.

A few other people of the lodge, also joined the two in their early morning revelry. And just when the audience had completely immersed themselves in this unusual morning, the man removed the lit of his baskets…and in an instant, the hooded ferocious Cobra sprang up. The man continued to play and made the snake dance to his tune. And everyone looked on… at the snakes, the man and the town simmering in the background.

The snake charmer finished his performance and everyone show their adulation by a thunderous applause. Bhupen Hazarika went up to him and tapped him in his shoulder and said “You don’t know what you have given me”.

The man clasped his hands together and bowed.

Bhupen asked him “How did you capture the snakes?”

“There are ways. This is our family tradition” replied the man.

“What tradition?” Bhupen was insistent.

The man twirled his moustache with pride and said “I know mantras by which I can, pull the snakes towards me. Then I put a spell on them…and I become their master….”

“Will you teach the spell to me?” Bhupen joked

“It cannot be learned” said the Snake Charmer “It came me in my dreams….”

That very evening, after a hectic day at work,Bhupen told Nirode about the new song he had written. In room number one, of Sivasagar Tourist Lodge, with darkness sweeping all across the town, over a few glasses of brandy …Nirode sitting on a cane chair and Bhupen squat on the bed read or rather sang the song :

“Natun Naagini Tumi Kaal naagini
Tomaak bhulaaboloi kimaano por?

Neela bish piyaa,
Moi Neelakantha,
Oliyaa-boliyaa moi jaadukar.

Surjyor sparshao nopuwa,
Shatabdir aandhaare kompowa kolija,
Aronya bhaangi kimaan guhaa dekhiloo,
Kimaan desh-bideshor sorpini boshiloo,
Tomaak bhulaaboloi kimaano por?…..”

(You, the new serpent woman,
The dark enchantress,
How long will it take to forget you?

Drinker of blue venom,
I am the blue-throated one,
A wandering sorcerer, a conjurer of illusions.

Untouched by the sun’s rays,
With a heart that trembles in centuries-old darkness,
I’ve broken through forests, discovered hidden caves
Tamed serpent women from lands near and far—
But how long will it take to forget you?….)

Who could think of writing an ode to new love and contrasting it with his past love, taking a snake charmer and the serpent as a metaphor. Describing himself as the poison drinking blue throated(Nilakhanta) devotee, it makes him akin to the poisonous serpent and also lays bare his enormous urge to go into the daunting depths of death for the sake of love… He also talks about spell that was revealedto himin a dream just like the snake charmer had said “Swapon praapta moi mantra maariloo… Bishakta mrityur bishkosh kaadhiloo….”

For Nirode Chaudhury, IB’s and tourist lodges held a special spell. The raw rustic décor of the rooms, neatly laid lilents and the pure and homely hospitality of the staff, provided for rousing ambiance for stories to come alive. Nirode loved writing in the rooms of the lodges…Many of his novels took shape with in confines of those temporary spaces.The Sivasagar Tourist lodge was his favourite destination, his partner in his stories…

Looking through the same window and at the same view, like legendary artist Monet who found his garden of water lilies, uniquely different and inspiring every time he looked at it…Nirode had a special warm connect with the Sivasagar lodge. Once while he was in room number one, he heard a commotion outside. He came out and learned that there had been a incident in the town. The daughter in law of a prominent family of Sivasagar had disappeared. The police had been involved and efforts of the local people bore no results.

This became his novel Nashta Chandra (The cursed Moon). Although he changed the setting, storyline, plot, names and places, so nuanced were the characters, and so detailed the writing that people immediately made the connection. For a few months after the release of the book, Nirode became the talk of the town. During this time, to avoid the rush of people wanting  meet him, he would leave the lodge early in the morning and enter the place only late at night.

Not only Nasta Chandra, but Nakal Bhag, Jatayu…and many of his short stories were written in the lodge. It is rather strange that a place can stir someone to create. The Sivasagar Tourist Lodge and its setting, had the ability to caste an inspiring spell on these two men. Its bare walls and empty spaces had somehow acquired the enormous capacity, to draw and absorb  the pain, poison and madness that is thrown up in the churn of creation.

In any study of the artistic process, it is generally the art and the artist that is taken into account, but the space in which the art was created generally passes into oblivion. Whether it’s a building, or an openarea in the lap of nature, or a small confine of a room tucked away in the midst of the unknow, they at a particular point of time had the power over the will of the artist… Making them dance, like a snake charmer, to the tune of their own urge of mad creation.

Someone once said …Beauty is not in the skin…It is found in the stories we hold within ourselves. The Sivasagar Tourist Lodge has a lot many stories to tell. Its bosom is filled with anecdotes waiting to be discovered…

Mahabahu.com is an Online Magazine with collection of premium Assamese and English articles and posts with cultural base and modern thinking.  You can send your articles to editor@mahabahu.com / editor@mahabahoo.com(For Assamese article, Unicode font is necessary) Images from different sources.