Ranee Kaur Banerjee
I begin another ending. My time here is neatly packed into anonymous brown cartons and will soon be transported elsewhere.
Over the years, I have visited numerous places and lived in a few. I carry many cities in my heart, but Shillong has branded a large chunk of me and made me unmistakably its own.
Of course, the city has its defects. Some deficiencies, like the traffic congestions, are nightmarishly debilitating. However, I will unashamedly wear my tunnel-visioned pink-glasses to write this love song to my home of two years.What is it about Shillong that has so gripped my heart that it constricts in panic every time I think of leaving this city for good?
I will long for the pristine blue of the skies and the fresh wealth of water that appears in myriad forms, forces, and sizes. I will crave the crisp coolth, the daily weather-surprises, and the bracing breezes that lighten my soul. I will miss the soft, constantly moving clouds that sometimes criss- cross the sky like a badly knitted jumper and embrace me with amorphous arms of intermittent shade. I will yearn for the beauty that enfolds me every hour of every day whichever way I gaze. I will pine for the riotous seasonal colours of the flora and the nightly heavy metal cicada-choruses that I am certain must have inspired Satyajit Ray’s “Bhooter Raja” song in Gupi Gayen Bagha Bayen. I will remember the grace of the local dances, the calmness of the faces, the cadence of the language, the melodious voices, the sophistication of the jainsem and dhara, and the eye-catching solidity of the jewellery.
Compelling as these attributes are, they don’t make my heart dance to Shillong’s rhythms.
Shillong is special to me because of its particular brand of purity, its quiet and cultured simplicity. Shillong is a gentle and reticent smile reflected warmly in the kindest eyes I have ever seen. This city and its people embody an unassuming authenticity that pervades everything they say and do. It defines their food, their lifestyles, their guileless honesty, their unapologetic pride, their unmoving loyalties, and their quiet assertiveness. This kind of simplicity cannot be taught; it is nurtured and cultivated through centuries of rootedness in family-centred traditions. It is imbibed through example by generations and perpetuated by being bonded to family, clan, tribe, and land.
Decades ago, our beloved French instructor was called back to Paris after eight years at the Alliance Francaise in Calcutta. A group of us went with gifts to congratulate him. To our surprise, he was despondent. He told us, “Je quitte Calcutta sans plaisir” (I leave Calcutta unhappily).
It has taken me forty-two years to understand what Monsieur Gimeno meant.
Je quitte Shillong sans plaisir.