Literature
has enmeshed all sorts of pandemics by wielding pen to the pinnacle of fancy
and imagination and coupled in reality at times. It offers the account of people
who have dealt with the trauma of pandemics in the past days including the
Black Death, flu, influenza, cholera and how to make sense of the world that is
totally beyond our control and comprehension. The novel form of fear and
ferocity in the name of novel Coronavirus has transformed our lives to a
standstill. Reading fiction and poetry in the days of lockdown offer a new
world of awareness and enlightenment. These creative outputs make us ponder
over the harsh realities especially when we are in the deadly scourge of
coronavirus. I felt the darker sides of a disease and its sways on one’s life
in Tagore’s play The Post Office (Dak
Ghar). Reading a drama like this in the time of quarantine made me empathize
with the young boy made immortal by Rabindranath Tagore. The Nobel laureate par
excellence has weaved the patterns for the aspirations of Amal, a child who is
destined to confine to his adopted uncle’s home owing to an incurable disease.
As the young boy is forbidden by the doctor to move out of doors, he connects
himself through the outside world just with the aid of a window. ‘Isolation’
and ‘quarantine’ have become his constant companions. He is still content in
his world of imagination and is all set to travel to the other shore. He is too
full of hope despite all the hopelessness of his life. He ascertains there is
just one life and we should not forget to enjoy the exuberances and ecstasies
of life come what may. Amal teaches the world not to leave the hope and feel
the world as much as one can.
Suffering,
the fundamental reality of human life is explicable in Tagore’s depiction. The Post Office resonates this theme in a phenomenal way. The characters appearing
in the play like the curd seller, postman, watchman, Headman and Sudha are
touched and transformed by the presence of this innocent little boy. He is
capable of imparting a positive vibe to whosoever comes in contact with him. Amal,
who is adopted by his distant relative Madhav Dutt suffers from an incurable
disease and staying indoors turns out to be the only panacea as per the
orthodox doctor. Dutt undergoes a sea change into something rich and strange
after this young boy has come to his life.
“Madhav:
What a state I am in! Before he came,
nothing mattered; I felt so free. But now that he has come, goodness knows from
where, my heart is filled with his dear self, and my home will be no home when
he leaves”.
Madhav has developed an invincible bond with
little Amal in a short span of time. The
boy clings to his heart in such a queer sort of way. He somehow wants to save
the boy from the clutches of the evil disease. He has no other choice other
than confining the boy in a room. Although Amal is destined to be in a room, he
finds a ray of hope in the form of window. It is disheartening for a young boy
to spend hours in a room sitting near a window facing the garden and the pond.
The imaginative and inquisitive fervor of a young mind makes him trail through
streams, water, valleys and villages. He can hear the shrill cry of kites from
almost the end of the sky. He is a child angel endowed with the typical Tagorean
traits. Like Tagore, Amal is a wanderer in his heart. He yearns to be free, to
roam around hither and thither though he is willing to submit himself to the
dictates of others. His unfathomed curiosity and hunger to explore is
boundless. Only ‘the call of the open road’ is in store for him. Amal does not
wish to be in the comforts and luxury of a home. He wants to live embracing the
nature and to enjoy the dizzy raptures of the wild. The marvel of his
imagination is the sole savior in these days of quarantine. He ardently hopes
that he will receive a letter from the mighty King and he fancies to become his
messenger. His ambition bears fruit at the end of the play heralding the
arrival of the King. A tiny boy’s dream is materialized by the mighty presence
of the King. Amal’s lifeless body waits
for the arrival of King.
A young
boy like Amal remaining in the periphery of the notion of productivity is
capable of forging a knowledge system of his own through his limited knowledge
of the world via his interactions with the people who come in touch with him
daily: the headman, watchman, dairy man, village girl, fakir, physician and so.
He is not expecting anything from these people other than sharing a few
moments. When everybody wants curd from a dairy man, Amal just wanted to learn
how to say ‘good, nice curds’. How can one not fall for the affectionate nature
and gesture of Amal? Even when living against the looming death, Amal looks
ahead with spectacular expectations of a serene life relishing the beauty and escapades
of nature.
Amal’s
entire universe revolves in, around and within the constraints of a small room
and window. In the universe of The Post
Office, Amal is submissive and the only one quarantined due to his illness.
Even in the uneasiness of his disease, Amal discovers ease through his tiny
pleasures. We are more or less travelling on the same boat nowadays owing to
the hike in COVID cases. We are driven to compulsory confinement and lockdown.
Amal teaches us to bridge the gap between our dwelling and the world in times
of the pandemic. Yes, it is time for us to be creative and productive by
reading, writing, indulging in online discussions and webinars. There is no
lockdown to our literary life. Like Amal, we must also enjoy the life to the lees.
Death, the great leveler has its role to be played in everyone’s life. Why to
delay our exuberances and luxuries between the edges of birth and death? Live
in the present and leave the rest to the general absurdity of life. Oh, yeah.
Amal, the pure one is reverberating his impulse to my essence.
