Not Gone, Not Forgotten

Remembering my father on the second anniversary of his passing.

Samir Kumar Shome (26/01/1938 - 18/07/2022), on one of his many adventures in and around Jamshedpur in the 1960s

Back in the good old days, many evenings after work, my father would pour himself a drink. Whisky on the rocks, or beer. He would emerge from his after-work shower smelling of soap, dressed in a crisp, white kurta-pajama. He would have the paraphernalia - bottle, glass, ice - all neatly laid out on the dining table. I would watch mesmerized as the beer slid slowly down the side of the glass that he held rock-steady at a perfect slant. I stood there right next to him, reaching not too many inches above the height of the table, and I thought it was magic how the thick, white foam crept up the glass and rose over the top without a single drop of it ever spilling. Sometimes, he would let me stick my tongue into the glass and laugh to see my nose and mouth puckering up with the bitterness. The smell of his soap mingled with the smell of his drink and followed him to the garden where he sat down to enjoy his well-earned drink. He sipped his drink and listened to Rabindra Sangeet playing on our old vinyl record player wafting out from the living room. The smell of the soap, the smell of the drink and the smell of the flowers in the garden all mingled with the strains of the melodious songs and became, for me, the memory of my father resting at home on long, summer evenings when the air was soft and warm, and time seemed to stand still - like nothing would ever change. 

My father’s love for Rabindra Sangeet stayed with him till the end. My mother recently shared this one with me to remember him with, on his second death anniversary. 

When my feet no longer tread this path, when I no longer row my boat on the river says the poet, there is no need to look for me among the stars. When all my business with the world is done, there is no need to call my name. The grass in my garden may overgrow and dust settle on my things, but the days will come and go as they do now. And when a new day dawns, when cows graze on the green grass and the cowherd frolics, who says I am not there? I am there – I will always be there! (This is a subjective interpretation, not a literal translation.)

Here is the song in the voice of Hemanta Mukherjee: