Sikkim – Darjeeling Connection Centenary Celebration of NSS: Some Memoirs

Those waves of time, those moments those remain in memory,

Darjeeling that awakened golden memories,

Darjeeling that we walked from Singmari to Lebong,

The mega Football match and carnival horse race,

Standing in front of the Golghar in the winter breeze,

Hulks of women and men crowded together,

We got a common shop there  in search of rendezvous,

Wandering around the stand and selling magazines

How many days of love passed there!,

Namdung Dai, Adhikari Sir met there,

IB Sir, Lakhi Sundas, Bharat Yadav, P. Arjun,

The galaxies of literary luminaries, our fortune!

Literature, the fluorescence, and essence of Darjeeling!!!

Chaurasta, Mahakal Baba, toy train, the pride of Hill

Darjeeling was once a literary lake — a vibrant hub of literary and artistic activity. In 1968, a flood of literary magazines began to emerge, like landslides cascading from tea gardens, villages, and towns across the region. Literary enthusiasts from our own village had published the Makhamali magazine. Chandra Banucha and C.B. Khawas brought out Muhan, while Madan Ojhaji published Pachhauri. In Darjeeling town, senior literary figures launched publications such as Diyo, Diyalo, and Dhuwan.

At the time, we believed there was no greater vocation than to be a writer, a poet, or an editor — serving society and literature felt like both a dream and a passionate amusement. My father was a staunch supporter of the Gorkha League Party and served as the president of the Rangbhang Valley unit of the Gorkha League and the Workers' Union. From 1945 to 1952, he worked in Dam Dam (Kolkata) and later with the CPWD in Gangtok, before finally settling in his birthplace — Soolbong Tea Garden in Darjeeling.

As a local leader, he would go door to door for weeks and months collecting contributions from workers for the Darjeeling Gorkha League’s head office. In the evenings, he would return home carrying Gorkha magazines in hand, selling them, and always upholding the pride of the Gorkhas. The Gorkha magazine, published with the slogan “We always keep the pride of the Gorkhas high,” was a household favorite.

Darjeeling was truly the queen of the hills in those days — a place where Nepal’s royals studied, where the prominent politicians of Sikkim, film star Danny Denzongpa, former Chief Minister Nar Bahadur Bhandari, former administrator P.K. Pradhan, C.D. Rai, and many senior Sikkimese bureaucrats were educated. It was a premier educational and cultural center, a picturesque town where many beloved Hindi films were shot.

Darjeeling was the paradise of Dev Anand, Rajesh Khanna, Sharmila Tagore, Mala Sinha, and many other actors who loved to film there — a place considered the most beautiful land in India at the time. Tourists from around the world visited to soak in its charm. Just hearing the whistle of the toy train and boarding it was a thrill — today, it stands as one of the world’s most celebrated heritage railways.

Back then, reaching Darjeeling and sipping tea with parathas at Golghar — in the heart of the town — was a matter of pride and joy. Wandering around Chowrasta, or riding ponies and horses, defined a successful visit. On the return journey, almost everyone bought a newspaper, magazine, or book — reading was a mark of social status.

In 1974, during the winter holidays, my friend Krishna Raj Ghatani, my brother Shyam, and I collected money door-to-door in Mirik and Pokhrebung and published a magazine called Awakash at Chandra Sharma’s Asha-Lakshmi Press. Among those who supported our efforts by selling the magazine were Dr. Jeevan Namdung, former Sikkim Chief Minister Pawan Chamling, Shila Dewan, Rebika Khawas, and many others.

There was a tradition of including contributors from different places, and we sent the magazine to Kharsang, Mirik, Kalimpong, and Darjeeling by post for sale — a task that was both laborious and fulfilling.

During a cold winter afternoon, a few friends and I gathered at the famous Golghar shop in Darjeeling. We stepped inside, warmed ourselves with tea and parathas, and chatted away like old times. On one such occasion, purely by chance, I ran into Dr. Jeevan Namdung, a senior and respected figure. We talked at length, reminisced, and enjoyed a delicious meal together. What a joyful occasion it was — a grand rendezvous of hearts and memories! Such moments now feel like relics of the past. Nowadays, such gatherings bring neither the same joy nor the same warmth.

My most recent visit to Darjeeling was on May 25, 2025, for the centenary celebration. I had harbored a deep desire to sip tea and chat with old friends again at Golghar — the very place etched in my memories. But, alas, fate had other plans. I fell ill at the very moment I arrived. Still, I hold on to the hope that someday, by some means or through a literary gathering, I will return to that beloved place and relive those cherished moments.

How many sweet memories we planted in the Nepali Sahitya Bhawan! It was truly magical. Lost in the memories of those golden days, I now realize that Darjeeling is no longer the same. We’ve lost so many friends, the innocent smiles, the glory, the inspiration, and the boundless optimism — all seem to have disappeared into some unseen darkness. One particularly historic event I remember fondly was in 1982, when the new hall at the Sahitya Bhawan, named SUDHAPA, was inaugurated.

After Sikkim merged with the Indian mainstream on May 16, 1975, I was able to establish a workplace there through connections with friends. My ancestors had already walked these paths — some had even lived in Sikkim during the Chogyal era. I feel fortunate to have served in the very land where my ancestors once lived. While working in the government, I also contributed as a part-time writer and correspondent for Himali Bela.

One day, the late Editor, Mr. Ram Patro, handed me an invitation letter and said, "We’ve been invited to Darjeeling. Take a week’s leave, go there, and understand how the sales system of Himali Bela and Sikkim Express functions." Overjoyed, I traveled to Darjeeling to attend the Nepali Literature Conference in 1981–82. I was only 23 or 24 years old then — just a young boy with dreams in his eyes.

I was blessed when Prem Pradhan Dai recognized me and led me to the journalists’ section near the stage. It was a moment of immense privilege — the SUDHAPA meeting hall was inaugurated in the presence of the three legendary literary luminaries themselves: Surya Bikram Gyawali, Dharanidhar Koirala, and Parasmani Pradhan. Sitting among these giants of Nepali literature was an unforgettable honor. Other distinguished writers present included Lainsingh Bangdel, Gopichandra Pradhan, Mohan Dukhun, and many others.

Though I had the rare opportunity to take a group photograph with them, I lost the picture for some years. Later, with the help of Shri Prem Pradhan and another writer, Shri Jeevan Labor, I was able to recover it.

That evening, while staying at Hotel Alice Villa, I was fortunate to interview Dr. Parasmani Pradhan. The interview was published in Sammelan, the magazine of the Nepali Sahitya Sammelan of Sikkim at the time. It was indeed a historic moment, made possible by the Nepali Sahitya Sammelan, Darjeeling — and a moment I will always hold close to my heart.

In the late 1970s, Bharat Yadav, Anosh Das Pradhan, and others formed the All India Nepali Journalists’ Association in Darjeeling. Writers, poets, and journalists gathered with the shared goal of advancing their collective interests. Though the association later became inactive, it sparked meaningful conversations.

One significant outcome was an open letter, published in Jandoot, addressed to Sikkim’s then Chief Minister, Kazi Lhendup Dorjee, urging him to advocate for Nepali language recognition. Although it didn’t happen during his tenure, the movement gained momentum, and in 1992, under Shri N.B. Bhandari, Nepali was officially recognized—thanks to the united efforts of Indian Nepali-speaking communities.

I fondly recall the thrill of reciting poetry in 1974 at a Yuga Paribodh event in Darjeeling. The gathering included literary stalwarts like P. Arjun, Chandra Sharma, B. Yonjan, and Jeewan Theeng. P. Arjun reviewed the poems, especially highlighting Jeewan Theeng’s allegorical piece about two cats fighting over bread, judged and devoured by a monkey—symbolizing the exploitation of his homeland.

Reciting my poem among such luminaries was an unforgettable honour—one of those golden moments when poetry, purpose, and pride met on a single stage.

Arjun Dai was a serious thinker and a man of quiet, courageous statesmanship. I had heard he carried deep sorrows within, which he sometimes shared with others — though perhaps not with me, as I was still young. Later, he took up a post as a magistrate in Medinapur. He continued to send his poems by post to Himgiri, and we ensured every issue reached him.

Similarly, we regularly mailed copies of Himgiri to Dr. Jas Yonjan Dai, Dr. Jeevan Namdung, the Nepali Sahitya Sammelan, and other literary friends. Kamala and I were committed to this task.

In 2002, Kamala Aashu was honoured by the Mirik Nari Seva Samiti. She then suggested we visit the Nepali Sahitya Sammelan, Darjeeling, meet old literary friends, and spend a night in the guest room of the same building — as a tribute to our shared literary journey.

Following the plan, we visited the Sammelan, where we had the pleasure of meeting poets and artists like Shri Birendra Subba, Dr. Jeevan Namdung, Karna Thami, Prem Pradhan, Gopi Chandra Pradhan, and others. Though Shri Krishna Khadka and Sachendra Rai kindly invited us to their homes, Kamala insisted we stay in the Sammelan Bhavan guest room, valuing the emotional connection over comfort.

It was a simple stay, but a deeply meaningful one — a memory we both cherish. 

As memories return, I recall a heartfelt literary program held in 2012 at the SUDHAPA Hall of the Nepali Sahitya Sammelan Bhavan, following the passing of Kamala Aashu. The event was jointly organized by Himgiri Prakashan and the Kamala Aashu Smriti Pratishthan to honour her memory.

Senior writer Shri Krishna Chandrasingh Moktan graced the occasion as the Chief Guest, while Bindhya Subba presided over the function. The presence of Radheshyam Lekali, Sirangharay, and Dr. Nepal from Kathmandu added depth and dignity to the gathering.

The program was marked by poetry recitations, heartfelt tributes, speeches, and the release and distribution of a commemorative magazine—celebrated with great zest and reverence.

There has always been a deep historical and cultural connection between Sikkim and Darjeeling, particularly through the Nepali Sahitya Sammelan, Darjeeling. Established in 1925 during the British era, its founding president was Hari Prasad Pradhan, a writer and lawyer originally from South Sikkim, near Melli. He later moved to Nepal and went on to become the Chief Justice there. His ancestral home still stands in Sikkim, where his descendants continue to reside. This rich legacy links Sikkim closely to the literary heritage of Darjeeling.

Having a native-born Sikkimese as the founding president of such a historic literary institution is a matter of immense pride for both Sikkim and Darjeeling. It underscores the shared cultural roots of the two regions. No matter the politics, the bond between Sikkim and Darjeeling in language, literature, art, and culture cannot be broken.

The recent centenary celebration of the Nepali Sahitya Sammelan, Darjeeling, marks a historic milestone—a century of commitment to the Nepali language and literature. Writers from Sikkim, Nepal, and other regions were invited, symbolizing the broader unity among Nepali-speaking communities.

All members and organizers of this landmark celebration deserve heartfelt congratulations for their efforts. May the Nepali language and literature in India, as championed by the Sammelan, continue to grow, flourish, and bind us together in unity for generations to come.

(bbantawa@gmail.com)