Shifting House

Mrinal Chatterjee

Window Seat

After superannuation, I recently shifted base from Dhankanal, a sleepy town surrounded by hills in Central Odisha to Bhubaneswar, the Capital of Odisha.

As we shifted, I experienced that there is a peculiar kind of fatigue that comes not from work, but from boxes. Cardboard ones, hastily labelled in fading ink—“kitchen,” “books,” “miscellaneous”—as if entire fragments of a life could be reduced to categories. Shifting house is never just a logistical exercise; it is an emotional audit.

In my house in Dhenkanal, located close to a hill and forest, even silence had a familiar echo. The switch that worked only if pressed twice, the window that framed a particular slice of evening sky —these were not inconveniences but coordinates of belonging. Packing them away feels like folding up time itself.

The new place arrives with promise but also with a certain indifference. Walls stare back, unacquainted. Every object seems slightly misplaced, every routine interrupted. You search for comfort in corners, only to realize that comfort is not architectural; it is accumulated.

Yet, somewhere between unpacking books and locating the kettle, a quiet shift begins. A chair finds its spot. A morning ritual resumes. New neighbours visit with big smile and warm welcome. The unfamiliar starts acquiring memory.

Perhaps that is the secret of relocation: we do not just move houses; we slowly persuade a new space to hold our stories. And in that patient negotiation between loss and renewal, life, once again, settles in.

Bismillah Khan

There are musicians who perform, and then there are those who become the very voice of their instrument. Ustad Bismillah Khan belonged to the latter. In his hands, the shehnai—once confined largely to temples and weddings—found a place on the classical stage and in the national imagination.

Born in Dumraon on 21 March 2016 and deeply rooted in the ghats of Varanasi, Khan sahib’s music carried the fragrance of the Ganga, the cadence of temple bells, and the quiet devotion of riyaaz. His performance on the eve of India’s Independence in 1947 remains etched in history, as the shehnai’s notes floated across a newly awakened nation.

What set him apart was not just mastery, but humility. Despite global fame and prestigious awards, such as the Padma Bhushan, Padma Shri, Padma Vibhushan and Bharat Ratna he remained disarmingly simple, devoted to music as a form of prayer. For him, the shehnai was not merely an instrument—it was a medium to converse with the divine. He breathed his last on 21 August 2006.

In remembering him, we recall a time when music could still sound like faith.

Pondicherry

(Sri Aurobindo Ashram)

Pondicherry, now called Puducherry- about 150 kms from Thiruvarur is an interesting place. It has a distinctive colonial history. Originally part of ancient Tamil kingdoms, it became a French trading post in 1674 under the French East India Company. Over time, it developed into the chief French settlement in India, alongside Karaikal, Mahe, and Yanam. Though briefly occupied by the British during Anglo-French conflicts, it was repeatedly restored to France. After India’s independence in 1947, the territories were de facto transferred to India in 1954 and legally merged in 1962.

People visit Pondicherry for various reasons. With beaches and French-style Township it attracts leisure seeking tourists. It is the headquarters of Sri Aurobindo Ashram. Founded in 1926 by Sri Aurobindo and MirraAlfassa (The Mother), it serves as a spiritual center, housing their Samadhi (resting place) at its core. Tens of thousands of devotees of Sri Aurobindo and The Mother visit the Ashram.

People also visit Pondicherry, not only the town, any part of the UT, for other reasons as well.

Mysterious Migration

Every weekend, a mysterious migration begins toward Puducherry, especially from Thiruvarur, which being a temple city does not have many liquor shops.

Tourism brochures speak of beaches and French architecture of Puducherry. Visitors nod politely—then head straight to the nearest liquor shop like pilgrims who have found enlightenment in discounted MRP.

By evening, they return triumphantly, claiming they went for “culture.” Technically true—just a very spirited kind.

For the uninitiated liquor is abundantly available at a cheaper price in Puducherry as it is a Union Territory.