Lord Jagannath has always awed me, not as a God but as a brilliant work of art! I have often thought about the creator of the idols of Jagannath, Subhadra, and Balaram. I have saluted the genius mind which has brought alive this avatar of Narayan – the lines, the face, the figure, and the colours!
When I say Puri attracts me (which I often do), it is not because Puri is close to Kolkata and an usual destination for Bengalis. The sea and these tribal gods have made a strong impression on my mind since I was probably two, and both have allured me with the inherent charm of their magical beauty. I used to visit Puri every year with my parents. I have vivid memories of my stay in a wooden hotel on the beach, a beautiful balcony flooded with moonlight overlooking the vast overwhelming dark sea, strong crashing waves capped with white phosphorous, distant bonfires of the hippies, and sounds of guitars and the sea wind. The other strong memory is that of the magnificent idol of Jagannath in the core of the Jagannath temple, aarati, and the captivating ambience in that cell. My father was instrumental in making these visits highly interesting with his stories, humour, and photography. They were always special.
After 23 years I went back to Puri last week to let myself relive the place and the memories once more, to go back to yesterday once more, to go back to all the enriching and beautiful things that my father, mother, and I did together. This time we could not enter the Jagannath cell in the temple as it has been closed for some years now, and felt really bad about it. But on Ma’s insistence, we went to Chakratirtha, of which I had no memory at all.
It was a small, pretty, clean temple housing the three Gods and the ‘chakra’ embedded in earth in the centre. It was incidentally the time of ‘aarati’ and the priest was ready for his evening ritual. We were the only ones there, and as we watched him perform his rites, he started explaining about the ‘chakra’, the significance, the history, and that people come here to deliver their last offerings to the dead so that their loved ones are freed from the painful cycle of birth and death. He explained that only through this offering can one help their loved ones to cross ‘boitoroni’ and reach ‘boikuntha”! As he narrated these practices and norms on quite a serious note, I listened to them as a story that triggered new knowledge and imagination. I am neither religious nor philosophical, but something pushed me to deliver my offerings to my father who died a year ago today.
Puri was still magical and going back made everything sweeter.
The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art’s aim. The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.
Salainis
I had learned already many of the Outland methods of communicating by forest notes rather than trust to the betraying, high-pitched human voice.
None of these was of more use to me than the call for refuge. If any Outlier wished to be private in his place, he raised that call, which all who were within hearing answered.
Then whoever was on his way from that placed hurried, and whoever was coming toward it stayed where he was until he had permission to move on.
CHAPTER 1. Loomings
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation.
Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.
Sunny Side Up 