In pursuit of Chandrabati: the 16th century Bengali poet

Chandrabati, the poet who composed Ramayana from Sita’s point of view. She attempted such a tacsk in as early as the sixteenth century, which has earned the right to be termed canonical texts from a women's perspective. We started our journey at 8am from Mohammodpur, took a break at Egaro Shindur in Pakundia in Kishoreganj district to see the place where Isha khan, the chief of Baro Bhuiyan fought Maan Singh. As we climbed up high on a hill like structure on foot, and came down on the other side, we were informed by a villager that this was a tomb of some saint who lived here many years ago. We we taken over by guilty feelings for having tread over some unknown saint’s eternal resting place. By us, I mean the group of writers who came out on an expedition to find out more about the sixteenth century poet Chandrabati. What was discovered beyond the hill was a series of modern village houses with brick walls and tinned roof tops. A young villager led us to an enclosure beyond the houses. “A beautiful mosque lay ahead,” they said. After walking through the village for about ten minutes, we finally saw a pinkish mosque peeping through trees and shrubs. Isha Khan built it in the 1650's. It was interesting to know that they named this place Egaro Sindhu as eleven rivers met there at that very spot, hence the name. The mosque was engraved with beautiful terracotta designs on its front wall, with some of the green field plastered so that devotees could offer their prayers. There was a single domed mosque with four corner turrets, the eastern wall consisting of three entrances, the central one being the largest with a projected rectangular frame. Rosettes and embossed designs were found on the arch spandrels, along with rosettes, creeper designs, bell and chain being the main motifs on the walls. Although the archaeology department had a very small placard announcing that this is a heritage site, the locals informed us that they collectively took care of the mosque and offered regular prayers. There was a box near the entrance of the boundary wall which stated that donations could be made there. I couldn’t help but think that any other country, like our neighbouring ones, would preserve this kind of place with such care that visitors would be required to pay to visit them. The archaeology department could also use this place as a subject for study. As the sun began shining on top of our heads, we felt the need to rest and eat somewhere. One of our companions had his ancestral house nearby, where he arranged for us to have lunch. It took us another forty minutes to reach his home. There were two beautiful tin-roofed house with a dusty yard in between. A number of mango, lychee, banana trees served as a fence all around the house. A hen was roaming around with its five chicks following her. They looked like soft yellowish cotton balls with tiny legs. The hen scratched on the soil, lots of tiny beings came out and the chicks fed on them. When we went inside the room where they served us food, I was reminded of my grand dad’s old house, which had a very high ceiling and a partition that only went half-way to the top. Two girls filled our tables with dishes like white rice, egg curry, chicken, daal with cat fish, smashed taki fish, fried koi fish, various types of leafy vegetables, and a curry of assorted small fishes. They even had polao. The best part was when we were offered fresh cow's milk after the meal ended. We resumed our journey again towards Chandrabati’s temple. After going through many narrow lanes, asking pedestrians where the temple was, we reached our desired destination. There were two tall cylindrical temples adjacent to each other, with one slightly taller than the other. In between them a permanent dais was erected. The brick tiles and the glossy tiles with which it was made told us that it must have been a recent addition. On the opposite side, there was a school named after Chandrabati. We saw two concrete umbrella-like structures with benches where the school children or visitors like us could sit. As we sat there, a local told us that the paddy fields close to the temple was actually a river named Fuleshwari. This was the same river where Chandrabati jumped after being jilted by Joyanondo. A temple was made for Chandrabati next to her father’s temple. She was the first-known Bengali poet, the daughter of Basinder, one of the poets of Manasha Mangal. Sir Dinesh Chandra Sen had composed some ballads along with Manasha Mongol with the help of Chandra Kumar Dey in Ballads of Bengal in 1923 from Calcatta University. Although Chandrabati’s Ramayana was incomplete, it had a few similarities with her own life. She wrote another ballad describing her plight of being in love with a boy who betrayed her by falling in love with a Muslim woman. It is said that Joyanonda finally did return to her when she was in deep mediation in her temple. The legend goes like this: he banged the door several times, and when she didn’t answer, he thought that she had rejected him. He went around to find some Malotilata flowers and wrote two lines of his poem and jumped into the river. Chandrabati did the same after reading the lines. A Hindu priest who resided in an old house near the temple came to both temples everyday to offer puja. After climbing the four stairs, we peeped through the wooden door inside where we saw a Shiva linga adorned with a variety of flowers. When it was time for us to leave, I was quite saddened by the thought of the untimely demise of a great writer who had the potential to gift us some more valuable compositions.