While discussing destiny, or decree of fate, I still vividly remember an old story which is still vibrating my mind. I went to Allahabad to deliver a lecture on Indian philosophy in response to an invitation from the university. Usually I don’t accept such invitations, but this particular case was a little different and more significant for me. First I knew many of the university administration and teaching staff, and secondly the university of Allahabad was highly reputed and influential. My lecture was complete by evening and I left Allahabad city without delay for Muzaffarpur, where I had some important work. Suddenly, at the waiting room at Rambag railway station I happened to meet Sutanuká and her son Himaván. She was delighted to see me and exclaimed joyfully, “Elder brother, what a surprise! I would never have dreamed that I would meet you here.”

Sutanuká Mitra is my cousin. I had last seen her fifteen years before at Chandannagar at the marriage of her younger sister. Her husband Arúpratan Mitra was a veteran military officer who earned a name for himself during British rule. I met him for the first time during that marriage at Chandannagar (Boŕo Káliitalá.)

“Since we are meeting after such a long time,” I said to my cousin, “why don’t you come with me to Muzaffarpur? From there you’ll be able to go directly to Burdwan.”

“Well, I was thinking to visit your place during the winter holidays,” she replied. “Himaván has to go to college, and Arúpratan will be landing at Dumdum airport the day after tomorrow after his trip to London. He’ll be going straight to Burdwan from the airport. Our house is locked up, so if we get home late, he’ll be greatly inconvenienced.”

I realized her difficulty. We decided to travel together in the same compartment to Varanasi by narrow gauge railway and exchange stories. On reaching Varanasi I would take the narrow gauge on to Muzaffarpur and Sutanuká would take a train to Burdwan, arriving there either late at night or before dawn. It was expected that Arúpratan take a local train from Calcutta to Burdwan and reach home at about 10 A.M. the same day. That was finally decided. It had been a long time since Sutanuká and I had seen each other.

Though Sutanuká and her family were living at Burdwan they originally belonged to the Mitra family of Konnagar. Towards the end of Pathan rule, an intellectual society grew up in Hooghly District on the west bank of the river Bhágiirathii. Konnagar was one of the intellectual centres. In those days the Ráy Mitras of Konnagar were the landlords. Konnagar was considered as one of the most cultured and well-educated villages of Hooghly District of Rarh. Moreover it was one of the most famous places in the whole of Bengal. Its original name was Karńanagar. The people said that in Bengal if there was only one nagar or town it would be Karńanagar. That is why the town’s name could often be heard during a conversation between intellectuals. If anyone was asked, “Which is the best town to go to?” he or she would reply, “There is only one town. Why should you ask ‘Which town [Kon nagar in Bengali]?’ – There is only one town: Konnagar.” And that is how the place became known as Konnagar.

I said to Sutanuká, “The name of the city we’re about to leave is known as Allahabad city, but formerly it was called Prayága. It’s a fact that Prayága is older than Konnagar. It was built towards the end of the Yajurvedic period six thousand years ago. But Burdwan is even more ancient than Prayága. During Pathan rule Prayága was renamed Allahabad (Abode of Allah). Since then its popularity has been increasing. The Shia Moslems named the city Illahabad, but during the Mughal period, the prosperous growth of the city was checked. Thereafter, the city again began to flourish towards the end of the British rule when it became the capital of the United Provinces of Agra and Oudh (UP for short).

“In the pre-Buddhist era Burdwan was the capital of Rarh. In the Buddhist and Jain era it remained Rarh’s capital. During the Mughal period (during the reign of Akbar) Burdwan was the capital of Suba-Bángal. But Konnagar had no such royal glamour. It was just a cultured village of Burdwan District (the district of Hooghly was not created then). Iishan Chandra Ghosh, the renowned Bengali scholar of medieval Bengal; Rama Chandra Ghosh, the illustrious logician and author of scriptures; Práńatosá Biswas, the most erudite Sanskrit and scriptural scholar; and Dr. Krśńadhan Ghosh (Aurobindo’s father), the first Bengali District Medical Officer (DMO) and Civil Surgeon, were all born in Konnagar.” Then I turned towards Himaván and said, “Your father was born at Konnagar but you belong to Burdwan.”

He pointed out, “You told us a little while ago that Konnagar was within Burdwan District.”

I said, “That’s a hundred per cent true.” We were travelling from west to east – from ancient Brahmávartta or Brahmarśidesh to the ancient Káshii kingdom. That part of the Gangetic valley is considered as the middle part of the Ganges river civilization. The Prayága area is considered as the upper part of the Ganges river civilization. The area stretching from Prayága to the confluence of the rivers Shone and Ganges is the middle part of the Ganges river civilization. And the area from the Shone-Ganges confluence to Sahebganj is considered as the Gaod́á part of the Ganges river civilization. The area from Sahebganj, where the Ganges starts flowing southward, to Gangasagar is known as the final part of the Ganges valley civilization or Gaod́iiya civilization. The Gaod́iiya civilization is most developed where the rivers of Rarh – carrying with them the local cultural specialities of Rarh civilization – and the Brahmaputra river, coming from the northeast – carrying with it the flow of Mongolian civilization merge into the Ganges. The part of the Ganges valley civilization which was the home land of the pre-Gaod́iiya and Gaod́iiya civilization cannot be called the Aryan civilization in the proper sense of the term. Actually, it is the east India civilization or extended Ganges delta civilization.

So the area from Allahabad to Káshii or Gańd́akii (here Gańd́akii means Náráyańii-Gańd́ak – not the Buŕi Gańd́ak of Muzaffarpur and Samastipur) is part of the pre-Gaod́iiya civilization. Burdwan can be considered as the nucleus of Ráŕiiya civilization, and Konnagar as the main source of the Gaod́iiya civilization which is itself based on the Ráŕiiya civilization. “So you see, Himaván, your Burdwan and your father’s Konnagar are both bathed in the light of the same golden moon.”

Himaván was a B.Sc. student, but I was amazed by his ardent interest in river-valley civilizations. Even though he was a young boy he had an unusually keen interest in the origins of civilization. He asked me, “Uncle, different species of plants, trees and animals and a particular human civilization have followed the Ganges downstream from its source in Gauṋgottarii. Similarly, other species of plants, trees and animals as well as a different human civilization have followed the banks of the river Yamuna downstream from its source at Yamunottarii. What is the result of the merging of the two rivers, the Ganges and Yamuna, at Prayága?”

I answered, “That’s a good question. Just as the river Ganges has brought with her saffron-coloured clay, special types of flora and fauna and its own alluvium, the river Yamuna has also carried her own distinct characteristics down from her source. A little further downstream, another river, the Charmánvatii or Chambal, carrying the special characteristics of the western Indian civilization of Málava and Bundelkhańd́a merges into the Yamuna. In this area a new mixed civilization occurred which can be called the Baghelii civilization. The Yamuna carried this mixed civilization, and merged its black waters into the Ganges at Prayága. So, the middle stage of the Gangetic valley civilization starts from Prayága.

“The Gangetic river valley civilizations upriver and downriver from Prayága are not the same. The middle stage lying to the south of the Ganges continues up to the Ganga-Shoń confluence at Patna, and that lying to the north continues up to the Ganges-Náráyańii confluence near Hajipur. After that the pre-Gaod́iiya civilization starts there. Comparatively speaking the Austric influence is comparatively less than the Mongol-Tantric influence. This area has been known as Trihotriiya Bhúmi since ancient times. On the south of the Ganges, after the Ganga-Shoń confluence, the Pre-Gaod́iiya civilization starts no doubt, but there the Mongol-Tantric influence is less than the Gondawana influence.

“From the ethnological point of view, there is a difference between Trihotriiya Bhúmi and Magadha Bhúmi. In the physical structure of the people of Trihotriiya Bhúmi the Austric influence is less than the Mongolian influence. Black people are few in number. From the complexion of the people in Magadha it is evident that the Mongolian influence is almost nil. Flat-nosed people are very few. There are many black-complexioned people but with aquiline noses.

“Although Trihotriiya Bhúmi (Videha or, Mithilá) and Magadha belong to the same language group, the Mágadhii Prákrta group, the Maethilii language belongs to the Eastern Demi-Mágadhii group, and the Magahii language belongs to the Western Demi-Mágadhii group. The difference in intonation of the languages is particularly discernible, yet both languages belong to the pre-Gaod́iiya Gangetic Civilization, is noticed in Anga Bhúmi, where the Trihotriiya and Mágadhii cultural characteristics have blended into one. These characteristics came in contact with the Gaod́iiya civilization.

“This Gangetic valley civilization has been transformed into pure Gaod́iiya civilization or deltaic civilization where the River Ganges and the Vindhya Range have come closest to each other near Sahebganj in Angadesh, and from that point the Ganges flows southwards.”

Himaván said, “ I want to do research on the subject when I’m grown up. But from my conversation with you I can clearly understand that this sort of research cannot be done sitting at our Borehat residence in Burdwan or at the Shyampur residence in Calcutta; rather we have to move a great deal in the fields and along the banks of the rivers.”

I said, “You are right. This type of work cannot be done theoretically or half-heartedly. One hundred per cent sincerity is required for this sort of task, and then one will achieve one hundred per cent success.”

Sutanuká said, “Well, brother, I think we have now almost reached Káshii. After a while we’ll reach Benares city by narrow gauge. I’d like to know how deep the Vedic influence was in this area which you describe as the second part of the Gangetic Valley civilization.”

I replied, “Look, as far as I understand, the land of Rarh is the land where Sanskrit originated. But the ancient language which we describe as the Vedic language came to India from the northwest along with the Aryans. The Aryans first migrated to the Sindhu-Saoviira, and the land of Sapta-Sindhu, the Seven Rivers (Sutlej or Shatadru, Bias or Vipásha, Ravi or Irávatii, Chenub or Candrabhágá, Jhelum or Vitastá, Kabul and Sind). These seven rivers together are known as the Sapta-Sindhu. Later on the land became known as the Punjab, that is, the land of five rivers. The names of two rivers have been dropped, so there remain only five.

“This is the first phase of the Vedic influence in India. In the second phase the Aryans moved further southeast: their influence pervaded in the northern part of the Yamuna valley. That area was known as Haritadhánya or the ‘Land of Green Vegetation’ (Haritadhánya → Hariahánna → Harihána → Hariyána).

“Then, in the next phase, the Aryans reached Prayága around the Ganga-Yamuna valley. This we can describe as the third phase of the Vedic influence. Then they moved farther east, and their influence extended to the Gańdákii river on the north and the Shon River on the south. This can be called the fourth phase of the Vedic influence. In this area was situated the ancient Káshiirájya or Kingdom of Káshii. We are now journeying through the Káshiirájya. One thing to be noted here is that in the first phase, the Vedic language left two daughters behind: Páshcáttya and Paeshácii Prákrta. In the languages born out of this Páshcáttya and Paeshácii Prákrta (for example, Pashto, Punjabi, etc.) there is a multitude of derived words from the Vedic language. In the second phase, that is, in the Hariyánavii language, the percentage of Vedic-derived words is somewhat less. In the third stage, the percentage of the Vedic-derived words is still less, for instance in languages like Máŕoyárii, Haŕaotii, Bundelii, Bághelii, Avadhii, and Vrajabháśa, etc. And in the languages of the fourth stage, like Bhojpurii, the percentage of Vedic-derived words is still less. But no one should misunderstand that in the fourth stage the Vedic influence was nil. No doubt the direct Vedic influence in the fourth stage was nil, but the indirect influence in pre-Gaod́iiya and Gaod́iiya civilizations was tremendous, and that influence still persists even today.”

Sutanuká said, “I’ve noted with interest that in the fourth stage the external appearance of the people and the size of the cattle are quite different from those of the pre-Gaod́iiya and Gaod́iiya civilizations.”

Then I said, “You’re right in your observation. The structure of the human skull of people in this area is different from that of the people of the area of pre-Gaod́iiya civilization. But the human skull of the people of Angadesh is almost the same as that of the people of the Gaod́iiya area; the difference is hardly discernible.”

Káshii is not very far from Allahabad. After a short while we reached Benares city station by narrow gauge. Himaván said with a choked voice, “Uncle, now we must get off. I don’t know when we shall meet again. It was a very lively and interesting discussion.”

Both Sutanuká and Himaván were repeatedly requesting me to visit them at Burdwan: they complained that I had forgotten Burdwan. I protested, saying “No, I haven’t forgotten it – I have so many pleasant memories of Burdwan, so many songs of sweet love filled with joys and sorrows associated with Burdwan.”

They proceeded to the city centre. My private secretary approached me and said, “My in-law is sitting in the next compartment – he’s going to Chápra.” I said, “When your in-law is sitting nearby, why don’t you go and have a chat with him for a while? I won’t mind. Tomorrow morning there is an auspicious occasion of holy bathing in the Ganges, so most of the passengers are bound for Benares. There will be relatively few passengers from Benares to Muzaffarpur. Perhaps I will be the only passenger in this compartment.”

My private secretary went to the next compartment to talk with his in-law. I supposed he was enjoying a hearty meal of lit́t́i [a type of fried unleavened bread] soaked in ghee. The train left with a whistle, and the wheels started moving. Suddenly, a handsome gentleman dressed in a military uniform came running up, and, gasping for breath, entered the compartment. Immediately he approached me with rapid steps. After a while, when I looked closely at him, I was amazed to see that he was none other than my brother-in-law, Arúpratan Mitra, Sutanuká’s husband, whom I met about fifteen years ago at Boŕokáliitalá at Chandannagar! I requested him to take his seat beside me, and said to him, “How are things going – why are you running, gasping for breath? Why are you coming to meet me at 9:00 at night in this empty compartment? I’m on my way to Muzaffarpur; where are you going?”

Arúp said, “About fifteen minutes ago, at a quarter to nine, my mind suddenly became restless and agitated with so many thoughts and feelings. I thought to myself, ‘However possible, and as fast as possible, I must come to you immediately.’ It is my firm conviction that this restlessness, this agitation, will be put to rest as soon as I come near you. I now desperately need peace… only peace. I don’t want happiness, or prosperity – I don’t want the least amount of wealth or jewels of this vast world – I want only peace. ”

Arúp sat down. He was still gasping for breath. I asked him, “When your mind became restless, where were you then?” He replied, “I was far away from here… on the shore of a sea.” I said, “If you were so far away from here, then how could you come here in fifteen minutes?”

With a glimmer of a sweet smile on his lips he replied, “I came very fast, so I am gasping for breath. Immediately after reaching you, my mind has become peaceful. Now I feel a deep tranquillity within.”

I said, “Unrest or peace are all in the mind. Well, let us talk for a while.”

Arúp said, “Some time ago I heard from someone that you have already addressed a few symposia on river valley civilizations. I couldn’t realize what it was, but I guessed that you might have said something about how at the different stages of rivers the patterns of civilizations vary.”

I asked him, “Were you then in Britain?”

He answered, “Yes, I was,” and said, “Perhaps you know that Great Britain is a small country; the distance from any part of Britain to the ocean is not more than fifty miles. So naturally in that country there cannot be any large river: the distance between the source of a river and the ocean cannot be very great. Yet if we move along the banks of certain rivers, there is a difference between the civilization of the upper areas of the river and the lower ones, and there is also a variation in language.

“Take for example the case of the river Thames: it is not a big river, either in width or in breadth. The part of the river Thames where the ships sail is not really a river, it is only an estuary of the sea, just like the Mátlá river near Canning. Many people think that the Mátlá is perhaps a wide and large river. They may think that in olden days the southern branch of the river Yamuna (Vidyádharii) emerging from the Ganges at Trivenii, moved southwards, and then it and the southeastern tributary of the Ganges (Piyálii) both flowed separately for a certain distance and then joined together to form the Mátlá river. Though this is a fact, yet the collective waters of these two combined rivers is quite small. In fact, the Mátlá river is nothing but the estuary of the sea entering into the land.

“The deltaic portion of the river Thames is somewhat similar. The more one proceeds down the river from the source of the Thames, the greater is the Anglo-Saxon and Norman influence. If one moves from the southern bank of the Thames towards the Straights of Dover, there is still a tremendous Norman influence, like a subterranean flow. If one moves from the northern side of the river towards the port of Grimsby on the delta at the coast, there is a greater Anglo-Saxon influence than Norman influence. If one moves towards the coast, the Norman influence becomes negligible. Where there is Norman influence, there are large numbers of Latin derivations in the spoken language. Where the Anglo-Saxon influence is predominant, the number of Latin derivative words is comparatively little. The difference in intonation in the respective areas, too, is quite discernible.

“If one moves towards the opposite part of the Thames river, or towards Wales in the west, the ancient Briton influence is not negligible, even in the spoken language. This is the reason why, though Welsh is a language of a small country, yet it has certain specialities of its own. Even the difference in people’s external appearance, though not very prominent, is not negligible either.”

I said, “You are right, Arúp, in your observation. I notice that both you and Himaván are equally interested in river valley civilizations. I was not aware of this before!”

Arúp blushed and smiled faintly. He said, “Perhaps you once said that in our land of Rarh, on either bank of the Bakreshvar river in central Birbhum, there is a local civilization which, though small in area, has its own speciality even in the style of its temples and also in its terracotta works. There is also a difference in the use of verbal forms in the spoken language of that area. Similarly, in southern Birbhum also, there is a small river called the Kopái (Kupita or ‘angry’) in whose valleys there is also some sort of local civilization. As far as I remember, someone said that the water of the Bakreshvar valley is one of the best for it is full of sulphur. But the water of Kopái valley, though it is as good as that of many places in Bengal, is not as good as that of the Bakreshvar valley. The two small rivers, with their own distinctive streams of water, flow from the west to the east, carrying the rhythmic songs of the most ancient human civilization, in cadence with the dancing rhythms of the land of Rarh. When the two rivers meet at Melanpur (meaning ‘meeting place’) at one end of the area under the jurisdiction of the Nanur police station, they are known as Kuye, and at that point both their local civilizations become blended. Melanpur really joins the two rivers in all respects. If one listens intently to the local dialect, one will hear a particular drawled intonation which is lacking in west Birbhum. Besides this, other local variations also came into being there.”

I said, “You are right, Arúp. Really I am delighted by your description. The specialities of the river valley civilizations are very distinct in our Birbhum. In the upper reaches of Birbhum, the spoken language has no drawled intonation: it is one of the flawless branches of the Rarh language. But in the lower reaches of Birbhum, the same Rarh dialect has a local drawl – have you noticed it?”

Arúp said, “Yes, I have. This subtle difference in intonation between the area of the Khayrásol police station and the Lábpur police station, and again, between the Khayrásol police station and the Mayureshvar police station, can be easily discerned only by listening to it.”

Arúp said, “Though it is not directly concerned with culture, still it is a funny story…”

I looked at Arúp and asked him, “What do you mean?”

Arúp said, “At Khayrásol in the upper reaches of Birbhum, there is a widespread use of poppy seed, whereas in the lower reaches, the use of poppy seed is less by five to seven per cent. That is to say, in the upper reaches there is an empire of poppies, and in the lower reaches there is merely a kingdom of poppies!”

Arúp burst into laughter. I too joined in his laughter. To continue, I said, “The other symbols of Rarh culture – like d́iḿle [a type of pumpkin], kheŕo [another type of pumpkin], green gram, jhumur dance are equally popular in both the upper and lower reaches.”

Arúpratan smiled, and said with a voice growing in excitement, “Yes brother, I’ve noticed that too. You see, although I live in Burdwan in central Rarh, I was actually born in Konnagar in the low-lying area of Rarh. In our place also, pumpkin and green gram are very popular, and people can hardly live without poppyseed.”

“By the way, Arúp”, I said, “you rushed into this compartment at exactly nine o’clock. How long were you able to speak with Sutanuká and Himaván on the platform?”

Arúpratan exclaimed in wide-eyed amazement, “What! Did Sutanuká and Himaván come here?”

“Don’t you know that?” I asked. “They accompanied me in this very compartment from Allahabad City and got off the train in Benaras. They were in a hurry to get to Káshii where they were planning to catch an evening train which would get them to Burdwan by dawn on Wednesday morning. They told me that you were expected to land at Dumdum airport at around the same time, and that you would take a local train from Howrah to Burdwan, reaching there at about ten the same day. They have the keys of the house, so if you were to arrive there before them you would be put to great trouble. They knew they had to reach Burdwan by dawn on Wednesday by any means.”

“No, I didn’t see them,” said Arúpratan. “I missed them at Benaras railway station. But what you said was correct: I was expected to arrive at Burdwan at ten on Wednesday morning.” He paused for a while and then continued. “They shouldn’t catch any train which will get them there late at night or at dawn – I apprehend some danger.”

“If you sense some impending danger, under no circumstances should they catch any Burdwan train at that particular time. You should get off the train at the next station and find some way to go to Káshii.” And I advised him, “You’d better go to Káshii and look for them in all the probable places. They have to be prevented from taking any of those Burdwan trains.” He said, “That’s a good idea. That’s a good idea.”

The train slowed down. We were approaching a station, no doubt. Arúpratan jumped to his feet, rushed to the door, and, looking like a bird ruffled by a raging tempest, leapt onto the platform without waiting for the train to stop. He had reason enough to be worried.

As soon as the train stopped my private secretary hurriedly entered my compartment. I guessed he had just finished his dinner of lit́t́i [a type of fried, unleavened bread] with his in-law. Perhaps his in-law had also served him kaŕiibaŕii [a type of dumpling made of chick-pea flour and served in yoghurt water] and mákhána kśiir [a type of sweet rice] for dessert. My private secretary sat beside me and asked me if I had been inconvenienced in any way. I said I hadn’t. Our train was moving from west to east across the border of the ancient Káshii state. I had told Himaván that this was the last area to come under Aryan influence. In the fourth phase of the Aryan invasion of India, Káshii can be regarded as a border state of northern India (Áryávartta). The River Sarayu not only carried the Aryan influence along its banks but also Mongol and to some extent Austric influence as well. That is why its eastern bank was considered as non-Aryan land. Later on this boundary was further extended to the River Gańd́akii (Náráyańii Gańd́ak). The Kányakubja Brahmans of those days did not like to cross the River Sarayu. As the land on the other bank was non-Aryan it was considered unholy. They were afraid they would lose their Aryan purity. Those Kányakubja Brahmans who dared to cross the river, being lured by the fertile land of the trans-Sarayu area, were declared outcastes. They lost their identity as Kányakubja Brahmans and became known as Sárayupárii Brahmans.

During Pathan rule, the last boundary of Áryávartta was the present Ghazipur District. In those days north India consisted of three Subas [administrative divisions]: Suba Bángál on the east, Suba Punjab on the northwest and Suba Hindostan between the two. Even today, the people of Bengal and the Punjab call the inhabitants of the middle part of northern India “Hindustani”. Some people are of the opinion that Hindustan means the whole of India and thus why should the inhabitants of a small part of India be called Hindustani. But this is wrong, because the term “Hindustani” is used for the people who were once the inhabitants of Suba Hindostan, and not in the sense of Hindustan as being the whole of India. During the Mughal period when Akbar divided his empire into fifteen subas, the name of the northern part of Suba Hindostan was Oudh and the southern part, Suba Agra. Ghazipur District was the last boundary of Suba Agra. On the east of Ghazipur District lies Balia District. Previously it was only a subdivision of Ghazipur District. Similarly, there was no Deoria District in those days. It was only a subdivision of Gorakhpur District.

The British occupied both Agra and Oudh Subas and made one administrative area out of them – the United Provinces of Agra and Oudh (UP for short) with its capital at Allahabad. In the last part of British rule, the capital was moved to Lucknow. Anyway, there was a marked influence of Mongol and Austric cultures on the Aryan society inhabiting the Sarayú river valley. Later on many Aryans crossed the Sarayú river and declared the banks of the Gańd́akii as the boundary line of Áryávartta. The area lying on the west of the Gańd́akii valley was called Shákyárańya and the area on the east was called Videha or Mithilá. This latter area was not considered as an Aryan colony. I personally consider it as part of the area covered by the pre-Gaod́iiya Gangetic valley civilization.

King Mithi occupied Videha. To sanctify the land he held a Trihotriiyá Yajiṋa [a big sacrifice presided over by three priests]. It was then declared sacred. The land sanctified by the performance of a Trihotriiyá Yajiṋa was named Trihut. The land of Shákyárańya, although not widely valued by the Aryans, was respected by the Buddhists. Lord Buddha visited it a couple of times. Later, it became known as Shárańa (Shákyárańya → Shákyárańa → Shárańa). In later years it was wrongly spelt as Sháran.

On the north of Shákyárańya was the ancient and famous place, Champakárańya. A reference is made to it in the Rámáyańa [one of the two great Sanskrit epics] (Campakárańya → Campárańya → Camparań). Shákyárańya and Campakárańya are situated in the Náráyańii-Gańd́aka valley. On the eastern bank is Videha or Mithilá or Trihut, the land which was occupied by King Mithi. Mithi + lá [holder] + d́a [suffix] + á [feminine suffix] = Mithilá. In the Buddhist period one of the famous villages of Shákyárańya was Hatthiigrám (Hastiigráma in Sanskrit). Buddha visited this place a couple of times. It is now known as Háthoyá. During British rule the Háthoyá estate was one of the biggest estates in India. Then came the river Gańd́akii – Náráyańii Gańd́aka. The biggest cattle fair in India, known as the Hariharkśetra fair, is held once a year on the banks of this river. Nearby is the Shońpur railway station.

Immediately after crossing the Gańd́akii river bridge at Shońpur we reached Mithilá. During the Mughal period and the early part of British rule, the Mithilá division of Bengal Presidency consisted of three districts: Trihut, Champaran and Shárań. The district headquarters of Champaran was Motihári, that of Shárań was Chápra, and that of Trihut was Muzaffarpur. This latter district was named after Muzaffar Shah. It covered a wide area and until the early part of the British period its fertile soils were thickly forested. The forests contained abundance of numerous species of flora and fauna, notably tigers, antelopes, crocodiles, panthers and deer. The lake on the ancient river course of the river Lakhandei covered a larger area in those days and was surrounded by extensive forest full of abundant flora and fauna. A major part of the forest was part of the king of Darbhanga’s estate. Some of it was within the Shúraśańd́a kingdom, and some part belonged to the estate of the Bettiah king. People today, out of necessity, but also out of immense greed have destroyed most of the forest, particularly in Trihut District.

At Vaeshali⁽¹⁾ in Trihut District Vardhamána Maháviira was born into a Vaeshya family. His father’s name was Siddhártha and his mother was called Trishalá. The Trihut District as well as Mithilá were located partly in the Náráyańii-Gańd́aka valley and partly in the Buŕigańdaka and Lakhandei valleys. There was more Gaod́iiya influence here than in Aŕyávaŕtta. The Bengali script is used here. It is to be noted that both Buddha and Maháviira were born in a place where there was less Aryan influence in comparison.

Trihut District was quite large in area. The British divided it into two parts: Muzaffarpur District in the west with its headquarters at Muzaffarpur, and Darbhanga District in the west with its headquarters at Laheriasarai village (which has since become so large that it almost touches the city of Darbhanga. The old Muzaffarpur District is now divided into three districts: Sitamarhi, Muzaffarpur and Vaeshali (Hazipur). This is the same Muzaffarpur which was considered as one of the most cultured places in the whole of the then Suba Bángál. The old Darbhanga District has since also been divided into three districts: Madhubanii (a place where there is an abundance of forest honey); Darbhanga, named after the famous Dáŕibhangá Shah (In Maethilii the town is called “Daiŕbhanga” but spelt Daŕibhangá); and Samastipur, named after Samasti Náráyan Ray).

The Maethilii branch of the pre-Gaod́iiya valley civilization was enriched by the Mongol-Tantric civilization that flourished in the Náráyańii Ganges, Buri-Gańd́aka, Lakhandei, Bágmatii, Kamalábálán and Koshii valleys. King Prthvii Náráyan Shah established the Gorkha empire in Nepal at this time. The Gorkhas occupied Tirhut District and advanced up to Hazipur. Thereafter they were defeated by the British (The British commander-in-chief was General Octorloney in whose name the Englishmen living in Calcutta built a war memorial. In recent times, the leaders, ignorant of history, have changed the name of the Octorloney Memorial to Shahiid Minar [Martyrs’ Column]) and were forced to sign the Treaty of Sugaoli (Champaran District). According to the terms of the treaty, the British got possession of Garhwal and Kumayun regions from Nepal, which was included in the United Provinces of Agra and Oudh, and they also reclaimed a major portion of Champaran and Trihut Districts. Part of the northern portion of Trihut was left in Nepal and is still part of Nepalese territory. The former capital of Mithilá, Janakpur, is situated in that area. Many people of Bengal know the famous Janakpur catachu.

I got off the train at Muzzafarpur and spent two days of intense activity there. I arrived home about a week later, my mind full of pleasant memories. Waiting for me on the table was a letter from Himaván, sent from Burdwan, in which he wrote: “Dear Uncle, We had an unforgettable experience on our return to Burdwan. We left Káshii late Tuesday evening and were sure that we would reach home either late Tuesday night or Wednesday morning at dawn. Late into the night, mother and I were discussing river-valley civilizations when we suddenly heard a huge crash and felt a severe jolt. I don’t remember ever having heard such a loud noise in all my life. In a fraction of a second the train seemed to be smashed into pieces. There was commotion all around – people were screaming – chaos reigned everywhere. Mother and I were violently thrown out of the derailed compartment. Pieces of train and the passengers’ baggage were scattered here and there. We realized we were the victims of a tragic accident – who knows how many were lying dead. Both of us were violently thrown towards part of the derailed train, screaming desperately. Suddenly both of us perceived my father (Sri Aruprathan Mitra) rushing towards us. He grabbed each of us by the hand and pulled us out of the wreckage, saving us from the jaws of inevitable death. What happened next we cannot say, for we both became unconscious.

“When the rays of the rising sun fell onto our faces we regained consciousness and, looking around, discovered that we were lying on a hay-stack on the edge of a paddy field beside the railway line. As we had fallen onto hay our injuries were not severe – just a few bruises. A crowd of villagers had gathered around us. We saw the wreckage of the train in the distance and heard the pitiful screams and lamentations of the seriously wounded. The local people were very kind, as the people of Burdwan usually are. On seeing the slightest hardship of others, tears come into their eyes. Those people standing around us desperately wanted to help and kept asking what they could do to make us feel more comfortable. They were prepared to do anything to help. We asked them to look for my father and to bring him to where we were lying. They searched everywhere for him, but without success. ‘There’s no one called Arúpratan Mitra here,’ they said. They helped us get to our feet – which we could only do with great difficulty – so that we could also look for him. But our search was also unsuccessful – he was not to be seen anywhere. By that time the railway auxiliary van had arrived from Burdwan. We approached the authorities and with their help returned to Burdwan. The site of the accident was near Burdwan so we didn’t have much difficulty getting home.

“Well, uncle, how were we saved? Is it called ‘fate’ or is it perhaps the work of destiny?”

I was utterly shocked by what I read. Himaván wrote further: “Father has not yet arrived in Burdwan. We went to the airport to make some enquiries about him and learnt that the plane he was supposed to take still hadn’t reached Dumdum airport. The ground staff informed us that they had received no news as to the plane’s whereabouts, nor was it possible for them to find out for reasons of military security. The plane was carrying a military cargo and the passengers were military personnel. As a result, the military department was trying to black out all news about the non-arrival of the plane.”

No sooner had I finished reading the letter than I heard an announcement on the radio news. The news bulletin disclosed that there was a serious plane crash somewhere along the Mediterranean coast-line last Monday at 8:45 P.M. Due to certain military reasons the exact details could not be disclosed. All the passengers died in the crash. From the passenger list provided at the airport it appears there were twenty Indian passengers. Their names and addresses have been confirmed, but the dead bodies were so severely burned that identification is impossible. The names of the Indians are 1)… 2)… 3)… 4)… Among the passengers there was a man from Calcutta, a Sri Arúpratan Mitra.

I was speechless. I pieced all the events together and concluded that it was indeed at 9 P.M. on Monday that Sri Arúpratan, gasping for breath, rushed into my compartment at Benares railway station. He told me that he had been feeling considerable mental unease for the past fifteen minutes, since 8:45. His mind was terribly restless. He had come to me in quest of peace. He had travelled a long distance and that is why he was gasping for breath.

After hearing the news I was so bewildered that I was unable to decide what to do. How should I reply to Himaván’s letter, I thought.

Footnotes

(1) Vaeshali was the land of the Licchabis; it was the oldest republic in the world. –Trans.