City In Mourning After Festive Frenzy
A tearful farewell to Sunil on final journey
TIMES NEWS NETWORK
Kolkata: Sunil Gangopadhyay was at his desk hours before he suffered a heart attack around 1.30am on Nabami, writing in solitude even as the city was in the middle of frenzied Puja celebrations.
Two days later, after bidding farewell to the goddess, Kolkatans and fans of the writer from across Bengal were out on the streets again, this time in silent mourning to catch a final glimpse of Gangopadhyay during his last journey through the streets that idolized him as one of the greatest contemporary icons of Bengali literature.
A multitude of people — writers, film and theatre personalities, politicians and scores of fans —joined Gangopadhyay’s cortege, blurring not only the young-old divide but also, albeit momentarily, the acrimony between the Trinamool Congress and the Left as leaders from both sides walked in unison to pay their respects.
Chief minister Mamata Banerjee led the tributes and was joined by her cabinet colleagues, but the government’s response had initially been lukewarm. When Gangopadhyay died on Tuesday, the CM issued a note of condolence and said minister Subrata Mukherjee would represent the government at the Thursday’s cremation. That Mamata did not commit to a greater role had perhaps to do with Gangopadhyay’s stated Left leanings.
But sensing the mood on Thursday morning, when people from all walks of life gathered at Rabindra Sadan, Mamata and her team landed up and stole the show from Left leaders who had, till then, taken the lead in organizing the farewell.
Former CM Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee expressed deep sorrow at the loss. “I have known him since 1964. Through his writings, he depicted various aspects of society. He created several excellent characters. He was an extremely nice person. The Bengali literary world will always remain indebted to him,” he said.
Though Bhattacharjee retreated minutes before Mamata’s arrival, Left leaders Surjya Kanta Mishra and Rabin Deb were present alongside Trinamool ministers Partha Chatterjee and Saugata Roy.
Among the mourners were writers Shankar, Samaresh Majumdar and Shirshendu Mukhopadhyay and filmmakers Goutam Ghose and Mrinal Sen. “Sunil’s writing had a philosophical air. It was as though he had attained a rare spiritual insight,” said Shankar. Majumdar said he felt numbed and paralyzed. Mukhopadhyay, who had lost a friend of 50 years, half of which was spent as colleagues, too could barely speak. ‘Heartbroken’ CM leads mourners
Addressing a gathering of Gangopadhyay’s fans atRabindra Sadan, Mamata said, “We were all heartbroken when we heard of his demise. This loss is irreplaceable. But then, a poet and writer like Sunil-da never dies. Hewilllivetilleternity through hisworks.”
She then stole the show from the Left by walking alongside the cortege from Rabindra Sadan to Keoratola. The impromptu decision took the police by surprise. They had a tough time keeping the crowd at bay as thousands walked singing ‘Anandalokey…’, ‘Aguner poroshmoni…’ and ‘Tumi nirmalkoro…’
Singing in chorus with tears streaming down her cheeks was Shanghamitra Chakraborty,whowon theKrittivas Award this year. She had come from Burdwan to pay her tributes to the author. “My world crumbled on hearing the news of his death,” she recounted.Urmimala Basu recollectedher firstconnectwiththe litterateur. It was through the novel Atmaprokash’. "Though we did not know Sunilda at that time,weusedto addresshim by his first name among our friends. He taught us bohemianism,"shesaid.
The writer’s body was consigned to flames around 2pm in the presence of his son Souvik, who arrived from Boston late on Wednesday.
On his desk, meanwhile, a short story and an article remain unfinished.
We spent so many evenings
over tea and adda. Memories rush back to me of a life we shared together. It will never be the same again, to use a cliché, but such an apt one. I met him in 1967 for the first time and since then, he had been a dear dada
Samaresh Majumdar
We sat beside
each other and worked as colleagues for more than a quarter of a century. Can you imagine my loss? It is like losing a limb
Shirshendu Mukhopadhyay