Thakurda is a short story by Rabindranath Tagore (translated by William Radice). I have reviewed a short story by Tagore previously on this blog, so I will not repeat that unmatched resume that is Tagore’s alone! But I will once again say how much in awe I am of Tagore’s poetic genius, which lifts simple, everyday events into a realm of literary brilliance; and how much I am amazed by the creative heart that places the strength of human dignity above all the petty joys and sorrows of this world.
Thakurda is about Kailaschandra Raychaudhuri, or Kailas Babu, one of the last remnants of an era gone by - an era of ‘zamindars’ and ‘babus’, of titled landowners and noble gentlemen, of an old and aristocratic Calcutta. The core struggle of the story comes from the passing of that era, the coming of a new world, and the struggle faced by Kailas Babu, who was never quite able to make a successful transition.
What was most fascinating about this story was the characterization of the two main characters - the narrator and Kailas Babu - and a beautiful narrative that made me start off by identifying with the narrator, and end up with empathizing with Kailas Babu.
As the story starts off and the narrator describes an aging Kailas Babu and his annoying pretentious ways, I easily felt the irritation he did! Haven’t we all met with or heard of some old man, financially wanting, yet with all the airs and mannerisms of the wealthy? But then, there came the day when the narrator decided to play a trick on Kailas Babu - partly irritated by the endless stories of the past glory of the Babus of Nayanjor, and partly to amuse himself at the expense of the ridiculous old man. Building on Kailas Babu’s self-confessed close relationship with the rich and the famous, he told him that the Lieutenant-Governer was coming over for a visit. Confident beyond reason, Kailas Babu did not question this, and started preparing for the visit. What followed was a detailed plan, including a fake Lieutenant-Governer in a horse-driven carriage with liveried footmen, and an elaborate preparation by the host Kailas Babu and his faithful old servant… And yet, as the drama unfolds, the joke slowly begins to gain an air of pathos. Dressed up in the one presentable yet old-fashioned outfit, offering the last carefully preserved family heirloom, and making a final attempt at creating an old world charm with the last rose-water sprinkler… the old man’s near worshipful treatment of the fake Lieutenant-Governer was no longer funny. When Kusum, Kailas Babu’s granddaughter, cries out “What has my grandfather done to you? Why have you come to trick him?” realization hits us and - along with the narrator - we see the cruel joke for exactly what it is - a mean attack on a scared and insecure person.
For, in the end, that’s all Thakurda was: an old man desperately clinging to a bygone age because he was confused by all the changes in the world; he was too old to understand it and too tired to move with it, but above all, he was too afraid to let go of the only world he had known and lost… And suddenly his mannerisms were no longer comical; his self-importance just brought tears to my eyes… Thakurda’s final acceptance of the narrator - with a complete breakdown of all bravado - took me to the very core of the human heart.
