Glimpses of Kobi Nishikanto

Glimpses

When I reached Sri Aurobindo Ashram for my first Darshan, my heart at once overflowed with joy. Such serenity, such purity reigned all around! Wherever I turned my gaze, I saw colourful flowers brightening the Ashram. The pure fragrance of incense transported my being to another world. After doing pranam to Sri Aurobindo and the Mother we came out. I noticed a man standing under a tree. He had tranquil, dreamy eyes. Like a pair of lotus-blooms. Quite charmed, we greeted him with folded hands and introduced ourselves. We discovered we were face to face with Kobi Nishikanto. I had heard of him before. He spoke to all of us very warmly.

That very evening we headed for Kobi's house. His house was exactly as I picture a poet's house, surrounded by a lovely garden with innumerable flowers in full bloom and several tall, green-leaved trees around. We went into his room, sat down and had a long chat. I discovered that the poet was also a painter. He showed us his work, each painting as beautiful as his poetry.

Kobi also had a wonderful sense of humour. The sadhus of yore, he remarked one day, carried the 'kamandalu' (water-pot) in one hand and a 'danda' (staff) in the other, but our modern-day sadhus at the Ashram carry a tiffin-carrier in one hand and a cloth-bag in the other! His house was half-way between the Ashram main building and the Ashram Dining Room. He would tell me in this lighter vein, "Stop by my place, if you can, on your way to Khyber Pass." Khyber Pass obviously did not refer to the geographical landmark but to the Dining Room as 'Khaibar' in Bengali means 'for eating', so Khyber Pass was the pass that led you to where you could 'eat' and as the Bengali word 'pass' means 'near', it would imply that Kobi lived close to the Dining Room.

After that, I always went to see Kobi whenever I could. He would welcome us with great warmth and recount to us all kinds of stories. Had I noted down all his stories I could have written an epic. I noted just a few while he was recounting them to us. The rest of what I have written comes from my recollections or from what others have recounted to me.

Sometimes he recited his poems and I was enthralled. I have never heard anyone recite poetry as he did. In his recitation, the inner meaning of the poem came to life.

One day, I saw a special notebook of poems belonging to Kobi, a notebook filled with numerous poems. It would be wrong to call it just a notebook because this notebook had been touched by Sri Aurobindo. He hadn't just touched it but read each poem attentively and written his comments. Probably out of absent-mindedness Kobi had misspelt some words which Sri Aurobindo thoughtfully corrected in his own hand. Kobi wrote many poems just after he had had a vision and Sri Aurobindo explained its significance. The very sight and touch of this notebook overwhelmed me. That was the first time I had seen Sri Aurobindo’s handwriting in the original.

*

(The following was recounted to me by a sadhika who was very close to Nirod-da and heard it from him.)

When Kobi came to the Ashram for the first time, Sri Aurobindo told him, “Don’t remain here (at the Ashram). Go away. If you live outside, you will enjoy better health and acquire fame and reputation. You will become well-known as a poet. But if you stay here, you will suffer great physical pain.”

“What sort of pain?” Nishikanto asked.

Sri Aurobindo replied, “The sort of pain a man suffers falling from a cliff.” Nishikanto answered, “I am ready to bear this pain. But what about my spiritual progress?”

Sri Aurobindo: “You will progress here in one life what would take ten lives elsewhere.”

Kobi decided to stay on in the Ashram.

*

I also found out that he had been ailing with a number of serious diseases for quite some time. However, I never heard him refer to any of them or ever complain. Being no ordinary human being but a yogi, he looked always happy. Otherwise, with all his numerous problems, how could he remain so serene and unperturbed? None but a yogi is capable of such fortitude and detachment.

*

Kobi’s father was Bijoyshankar Raichowdhury and his mother, Saudamini Devi. He was born in 1909 in Unnao (U.P.) three months premature. Kobi’s father was a scholar with an extraordinary oral memory. Held in high esteem by well-known people of his time including Rabindranath Tagore, he was a pundit in several fields of knowledge, a lawyer by profession and a great jurist as well. He became blind at the age of 65 but such was his memory that he would fight cases with the help of an assistant. Kobi’s mother was a deeply compassionate woman. She was Bijoyshankar’s second wife. Kobi Nishikanto had one elder brother and a younger sister. Bijoyshankar’s first wife had given him four children: three sons and a daughter. His second son died after contracting tuberculosis and Saudamini Devi, who had looked after this boy like her son, also passed away afflicted by the same disease. Until her passing she had lived a quarantined life, confined to a room in the house. As a result, Kobi did not receive a mother’s love in his childhood. Kobi had barely turned four when his mother died. After Saudamini Devi’s death, Bijoyshankar moved to Shivahati village with all his children. Kobi’s grandmother loved him very much and even though the days passed by happily in Thakurma’s warmth, at nightfall Kobi would miss his mother. What can replace a mother’s love? Few could understand Kobi’s suffering. He used to live at the time with an orphan-boy who was slightly older and who had become like a member of the family. In the stillness of the night both these motherless kids would hold each other tightly and cry for a mother they had not known.

*

Kobi’s first meeting with Gurudev (Rabindranath) was most interesting. Kobi was a very young boy then. Before meeting Gurudev, Kobi was living in Shivahati in the 24 Paraganas district in his father’s house. He grew up surrounded by the loving care of his paternal grandparents, uncles and aunts. There was in the house an old edition of the Arabian classic, Thousand and One Nights. His sister Bela-didi used to read out to him stories from it about the Caliph Haroun-al-Rashid of Baghdad and Kobi would roam in his imagination along the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates. As a child he eagerly dreamt of visiting the old city of Baghdad. After some time, Kobi moved to Kolkata. This was his first discovery of a metropolis and so he would ask people in the street what this city was. “Kolkata,” everyone replied but he refused to believe them. “You don’t know, this is not Kolkata, this is Baghdad.” From Kolkata he went to his uncle’s house in Barisal. There, every morning he would see a Brahmin who was known as Gurudev. His impressive figure and face left a very strong impression on young Nishikanto. After living in Barisal for some time, he came to Santiniketan with his elder brother, Sudhakanto. He arrived in Santiniketan one evening as the cloak of darkness was slowly enveloping the place. Just then, astonished, he saw the Caliph of Baghdad, Haroun-al-Rashid himself, dressed in his typical Muslim outfit, advancing towards him along with his retinue. Delighted beyond belief, he whispered to his elder brother, “Dada, do you know who this is?” “This is Gurudev,” Dada answered gently smiling, “the famous poet Rabindranath Tagore. Bow down to him.” Kobi laughed at his brother’s reply in utter disbelief. “My brother doesn’t seem to know anything,” he said to himself, “Bela-didi knows much more than he does.” He began explaining to his brother very wisely, “How can this be Gurudev? He isn’t dark nor does he have a ‘tiki’ (tuft of hair) on his head. Where is the Saligram stone of Narayana in his hand? He is, in fact, the Caliph of Baghdad, Haroun-al-Rashid!” Seeing the little boy whispering to his elder brother, Gurudev smiled and asked, “Sudha, who is the boy?” Sudhakanto replied with a laugh, “This is my little brother, Nishikanto. His mind is wandering in Baghdad, in the court of the great Caliph, Haroun-al-Rashid.” It was a blessed evening indeed when Kobi met the world-poet, Rabindranath Tagore.

*

One day Kobi, who was staying with his elder brother, heard him talking very softly to his ‘didima’ (grandmother) about Kobi’s marriage. Some time later Kobi saw the girl they had selected. Sitting on a mango tree, the girl was eating a mango with its juice dripping all over her. When he found out that this was the girl he was to marry he exclaimed, “Good lord! Marry this mango-sucking girl? Never!” And he ran away from home. After wandering for a long time, he reached Katua.

Near Katua, he stayed in a beautiful, tranquil ashram with Sadhu-baba who was a Vaishnava and a realised seeker too. He warmly welcomed Kobi into his ashram. Kobi’s heart was overwhelmed with a strong faith in the presence of this divine being. Sadhu-baba cured Kobi of the recurrent attacks of fever that he had been suffering from ever since childhood. However, he warned him, saying, “You’ll have to bear terrible physical pain and disease all your life.” Sri Aurobindo was to tell him the same thing years later.

Nishikanto lived very happily in Sadhu-baba’s ashram. One day, he requested Sadhu-baba to give him initiation as he wished to offer his life to his guidance and care. When he mentioned this to him, Sadhu-baba told him very gently, “I can see three great beings standing behind you, one is Rabindranath and behind him the supreme Purusha and the omnipotent Mother. It is not for me to initiate you.”

*

One day Sadhu-baba told Nishikanto, “Go and get some good quality mangoes from the mango-market. Tell them they’re for me.” Sadhu-baba wanted to offer these mangoes to the other fellow-sadhus who lived in the ashram or came to visit him.

Kobi was totally enchanted with the luscious beauty and fragrance of the different varieties of mangoes. He requested the sellers to make him taste some samples, which they readily did. He was extremely pleased with their exceptional taste and flavour. He got a few baskets filled with these different varieties and returned to the ashram. Sadhu-baba was waiting for him. “What’s this?” he asked. “These mangoes were meant to be offered to other sadhus and mahatmas. You should not have tasted them first!”

Kobi was flabbergasted. How did he come to know? But then Sadhu-baba’s scolding was filled with such gentleness that he did not take it to heart.

*

On another occasion Kobi saw great preparations being made in the ashram. The morning of the special festival, Sadhu-baba gave Kobi a piece of paper with a long list of provisions, saying, “Go and get these things from the market.”

Kobi looked at the long list: flour, ghee, oil, vegetables, fruit, sweets and so many other things were to be brought. Food was to be served to over 350 guests. Kobi was thrilled just thinking about all the wonderful things that he was going to enjoy that day. “Where’s the money?” he asked Sadhu-baba. “Don’t worry about that. Just tell the shopkeepers it’s for me.”

Kobi went to the market and did as instructed. As soon as the shopkeepers heard Sadhu-baba’s name, they left whatever they were doing and began attending to his order. They even arranged to send the stuff over with their porters.

By evening the guests began to arrive at the ashram. On one side there was devotional singing, and food was being served on the other. The singing and dancing continued late into the night. Sadhu-baba had a garland of flowers round his neck and his fair-complexioned body was radiant with an unmistakable glow. Kobi kept staring at him, mesmerised. He had never seen him so beautiful. He noticed that Sadhu-baba’s eyes were not blinking and that they were shedding a continuous stream of tears as he sat immobile like a statue. Was this the famous state of samadhi, he wondered. Had Kobi not seen Sadhu-baba in this state he would never have believed that such a state was possible.

It was well past midnight when the kirtan-singing ended. Sadhu-baba began to enquire how everyone had felt about the festival. Kobi mentioned that there was still a lot of food left. “Distribute it to everyone,” Sadhu-baba advised. “All of it?” Kobi asked. “There are still a lot of pantuas, we can enjoy them tomorrow. Do you want me to distribute those too?” Sadhu-baba replied in his Jessore-dialect, “Look, Nishi! If you don’t give up your greed for food, you’ll suffer tremendously. We Vaishnavas don’t store anything. Listen to me. Go out and distribute all the food on fifty banana leaves on either side of the road and feed whoever is hungry. Nothing should remain, mind you!”

Nishikanto nodded though with little enthusiasm. All those mouth-watering pantuas he could have eaten the next day, he thought. He proceeded to follow Sadhu-baba’s instructions. He distributed all the food on the fifty banana leaves on either side of the road and waited under a tree. Who would come in the deep of night to eat this food, he wondered. A while later something unbelievable happened: from the thick darkness in front, all of a sudden a herd of jackals emerged. They all went to a banana leaf each and began lapping up all the food! Fifty of them to be exact! Sadhu-baba knew precisely how many were coming. Without any noise or commotion they finished all the food served on the banana leaves and disappeared into the same darkness they had come from.

He wanted to question Sadhu-baba about this but once near him, he just could not open his mouth.

*

Kobi had another quality, his capacity for extraordinary visions, all kinds of visions. There was a beautiful flower-garden in Sadhu-baba’s ashram. Every morning he collected flowers from this garden for Sadhu-baba’s puja. He was very fond of this work. One day while Kobi was plucking flowers in the garden, he noticed two persons inside. He looked up and saw two exceedingly handsome Vaishnavas standing in front of him. They were tall, fair-limbed and with shoulder-length hair — so handsome that he could not take his eyes off them. He stared at them for some time and then ran to Sadhu-baba, shouting, “Come quickly! Two beautiful boys dressed like Vaishnavas are walking in your garden!” Sadhu-baba accompanied Nishikanto to the garden but there was nobody there. Nishikanto looked for them everywhere quite astounded, “They were here just a moment ago! Their bodies seemed to glow!” Sadhu-baba understood at once and he hugged Kobi with uncontrollable joy, “You know who was here? Gaurango and Nityananda themselves! The first time I saw you I knew your eyes were special and they could see into the subtle worlds.”

Later when Mother was to see Nishikanto’s photograph, she too would remark: “He has a capacity for inner sight.”

*

Kobi observed that Sadhu-baba was concerned with the country’s problems even though he was deeply spiritual. Many young patriots and revolutionaries came to see him. The country was led at that time by Gandhi’s ideals. Kobi used to listen to Sadhu-baba’s conversations with these freedom fighters. He understood that Sadhu-baba was not quite happy with the direction the country was taking. He would talk to these leaders about Sri Aurobindo Ghose, even though he had withdrawn from active politics. But that did not stop him from referring to Sri Aurobindo’s vision of India. Whenever he heard Sri Aurobindo’s name Kobi’s heart filled up with profound bhakti (devotion), although he knew nothing about him at that point in time. When he was young he had sometimes heard the name from his father and elder brother. When Sadhu-baba told him that he had seen the supreme Purusha and the omnipotent Mother standing behind him, did he mean Sri Aurobindo to be that Purusha? So one day he asked Sadhu-baba, “Is it Sri Aurobindo you saw one day as the supreme Purusha standing behind me?” Sadhu-baba replied, “Yes, it is Sri Aurobindo who is going to be your life’s inspiration. It is he I saw standing behind you.”

A few days after this Sadhu-baba left for the Himalayas accompanied by a few fellow-seekers. Kobi also wanted to go with him but Sadhu-baba told him, “You neither drink nor smoke, how will you be able to bear the cold there? You can remain here in the ashram for as long as you wish.” But after Sadhu-baba’s departure, Kobi found the ashram desolate and soulless. He, therefore, left the ashram and began wandering again.

After much wandering, one day he sat down exhausted on a bench in a railway station. A friend of his elder brother recognised him there and persuaded him to go back home.

*

When Kobi was 18 he returned to Santiniketan to study art at Kala Bhavan along with famous artists like Santidev, Sagarmaya Ghosh, Bonobihari, Ram Kinkar and others. They were all friends. He spent a lot of time in their company, chatting, singing, having fun and indulging in all kinds of mischief.

Kobi remained in Santiniketan for a while under the care and affection of his elder brother Sudhakanto and Gurudev.

Kobi began writing verses and short poems as a very young boy and his brother used to sometimes correct these. One day some of these verses fell into Gurudev’s hands. After reading them he asked Sudhakanto not to correct the little boy’s creations, saying, “Nishi’s style is quite original, he will grow up to be a great poet. Let him write as he wants to.”

*

Kobi was interested in food from his very childhood. One day he laid a bet with his friends that he could interrupt Gurudev in the middle of his performance. If he were to succeed, his friends would feed him one kilo of roshogollas. The day of Gurudev’s play arrived. Nishi took his seat among the spectators. As soon as Gurudev came on stage to begin his performance, Nishi stood up and started applauding loudly. Gurudev strongly disliked applause in the theatre. He turned red with anger. Without uttering a word he turned around and left the stage and the play was cancelled. Nishi was summoned but there was no trace of him anywhere. Gurudev became a little worried and himself started looking for him. After an interval of three or four days Nishikanto turned up. “I haven’t eaten for all these days,” he informed Gurudev whose heart at once melted. He enquired, “Tell me, Nishi, why did you behave that way at the theatre? Was it fair?” “My friends had offered me a kilo of roshogollas for the feat,” Nishi murmured. “I would have given you all the roshogollas you wanted if only you had asked me,” Gurudev replied.

*

(Dada - Pranab-da - narrated this to me and he had heard it from Kobi himself.)

During Kobi’s childhood, one Kumaraswami had planted a new variety of Sri Lankan coconut in Santiniketan. After planting the saplings he announced that the first fruit from these trees would be offered to Gurudev. The coconut trees soon became big and the first fruits appeared. When Kobi remembered that Kumaraswami had wanted to offer the first fruit to Gurudev, he said to himself, “Why should the first fruit’s water go to Gurudev? Why not to me?” So with the help of a ladder Kobi climbed up a coconut tree. He then bored a hole into the coconuts and drank up all the tender coconut water. When the coconuts of that tree were plucked it was discovered to everyone’s dismay that they were all empty! How could this happen? Who could have made a hole into the coconuts and drunk the water? All the suspicion naturally fell on Nishikanto.

On another occasion, some cows were brought from Gujarat to Santiniketan. Gurudev’s daughter-in-law, Pratimadevi, would milk these cows and keep the milk covered in a large vessel inside the kitchen and the doors would be locked. But the amazing thing was that the level of the milk seemed to decrease considerably. Now, how was this possible when the doors were locked? Yet another mystery.

One day Gurudev was conducting an enquiry into these two mystifying incidents at Santiniketan with his staff. Seeing Kobi’s large, innocent eyes who could imagine Kobi to be the culprit? Gurudev, however, called Kobi and enquired, “‘Bauma’ (daughter-in-law) was saying that the milk in the kitchen, even though kept locked, keeps decreasing! How can the milk disappear when the doors are shut?”

“So? The doors might be shut all right but what about the window? It was very simple: I broke a long hollow stalk from a papaya tree and pushing it through the window managed to suck a little bit of the milk!”

Stifling his laughter, Gurudev tried to be serious and asked, “Why did you have to drink the milk in that way? There’s no lack of milk here, is there?”

“I was curious to know what a Gujarati cow’s milk tasted like, that’s all! So I devised this plan!” Nishikanto answered.

“But what about the coconuts?” Gurudev enquired.

“How would I have known the taste of Sri Lankan coconut water? I climbed up the tree with the help of a ladder, bored a hole into the coconuts and tasted some of the water, that’s all!”

Gurudev tried once again to suppress his laughter, saying, “Next time you feel like having anything, just tell Bauma!”

That was all the scolding Gurudev could give Nishi.

“You saw Gurudev’s reaction. He cannot cease from indulging this boy,” whispered some of the students who were present.

“How do you expect this boy’s waywardness to stop with such an attitude from Gurudev?” muttered some teachers under their breath.

But Gurudev was very fond of Kobi. At that young age he was capable of writing such extraordinary poems! How could Gurudev not love the boy? He was indeed Gurudev’s ‘chand-kobi’ (favourite poet).

*

When Kobi Nishikanto held the pen a marvellous inspiration would simply descend from the higher planes, new rhythms and an utterance rich with a new style flowed onto his notebook. The world-poet, Rabindranath himself, had recognised his poetic genius. That’s why he always nurtured and protected him. He wanted his distinctive style of poetry to grow in beauty and felicity.

Few probably know that Nishikanto was as proficient a painter as he was a poet. When he painted, he would shut himself up for four or five days at a stretch. During such times he did not pay any heed to food and survived just on puffed rice.

One day Kobi told me with a laugh, “Everybody thinks I am mad about eating. On the other hand, when poetic inspiration overwhelms me, I do nothing else but write uninterruptedly. Sometimes this can last for a few days and during such a period there is no question of thinking about food. People don’t speak about this Nishikanto who is continually writing. People only talk about Kobi’s love of eating and that he eats at all times of the day.”

“But I’ve seen you eat hardly anything with all your illnesses!” I interjected. “But I am told you can also cook.”

Kobi laughed once again, “When Sri Aurobindo was there I was once asked to cook. I made alurdom. People enjoyed my alurdom so much that they ate twice the amount of rice that they normally did. Dyumanbhai was terribly upset, “If Kobi cooks like this then it would be difficult to meet the Dining Room expenses!”

*

One day, while Kobi Nishikanto was in Pondicherry waiting to be accepted in the Ashram, he went to Dilip Kumar Roy’s house to ask if he would get Sri Aurobindo’s permission to join the Ashram. Many people used to come to Dilip Kumar Roy’s house to listen to his music. His room would be full of lovers of music. When Kobi met Dilip Kumar Roy, the latter told him that Sri Aurobindo’s yoga was very difficult indeed. Then he served Kobi bread and jam and a few other snacks. Being of a humorous mien, Kobi looked at all that food before him and remarked, “However difficult Sri Aurobindo’s yoga-sadhana might be, I’m now quite ready to embrace it!”

*

When Dada arrived in Pondicherry, jhatkas pulled by bullocks and pousse-pousses pushed by men were the only means of transport available in the town. The bullocks used to run almost like horses. Dada began the tradition of picnics at the Ashram. On one such picnic to the Lake, Dada invited Kobi as he was known for his culinary skills. Four jhatkas were hired to take the group to the Lake. Kobi cooked delicious khichdi and a few other items for the occasion. Just before leaving Dada introduced Kobi to someone from the Ashram. They began talking and the gentleman told Kobi that he considered Dada a ‘leader’ of the Ashram. To which promptly came Nishikanto’s rejoinder: “Dada might be a leader, all right, but I am the ‘feeder’ of the Ashram!”

*

One day during a conversation, Kobi Nishikanto told me that his guru in art had been the great artist Nandalal Bose.

“Weren’t Abanindranath Tagore and his disciple Nandalal Bose, indeed, our greatest Indian artists?” I asked him.

“No,” Kobi answered, “it was someone else.”

“Someone else?” I enquired quite taken aback. “Was it Gaganendranath Tagore?”

“No,” Kobi replied, “Suren Ganguli. He died very young. It was Nandalal Bose who discovered him.”

One day Nandalal Bose went to buy something in a village shop. He noticed inside a boy sculpting wood without referring to any drawing. He was sculpting lotuses and he had them all figured out in his head.

Astonished at seeing his work, Nandalal Bose asked, “Can you draw?”

“Yes,” the boy replied. “Drawing’s very easy!” And taking a piece of charcoal he sketched pictures of Lakshmi and Saraswati. Nandalal Bose said, “Would you like to learn drawing from Aban Tagore?”

“Who is Aban Tagore?” the boy enquired.

“Why don’t you come with me and learn from him?” Nandalal added.

“No,” the boy replied, “I’m very poor. I have a widowed mother, a widowed sister to feed. That’s why I work as a carpenter.”

Nandalal persuaded the boy to go with him to meet Aban Tagore. Abanindranath Tagore was so impressed with the boy’s artistic sense that he exclaimed, “What more can he learn of Indian art. Everything he does is perfect in accordance with the canons of Indian art.”

Then he suggested that he enrol in an art school but the boy refused. Aban Tagore said, “I’ll do the needful to get you a scholarship. Tell me, how much money do you make as a carpenter?”

In the end the boy agreed. But what use was it? The boy was afflicted with tuberculosis and died shortly afterwards. But about the few paintings he left behind Abanindranath commented, “If you put all of Indian art on one side and Suren Ganguli’s work on the other, the scales will tip over in his favour.”

Nandalal Bose reiterated it to Kobi, “You didn’t know Suren Ganguli but just one painting by him could stand up against the combined work of all the Indian artists.”

One of Suren Ganguli’s paintings is of a pining Yaksha from Meghdoot. It is so amazingly beautiful that it is impossible to describe it. The maharaja of Burdwan acquired it. When Aban Tagore came to know of this he went to the king to try and retrieve it but the latter refused and did not even allow him to see it. On another occasion when a painting by Nandalal Bose titled Parthasarathi was bought by a Western buyer, Aban Tagore told him, “Quote your price because I must have it.” The man accepted and Aban Tagore managed to retrieve the painting from abroad.

Kobi remarked that he had seen a painting by Suren Ganguli titled Karttikeya and was left spellbound by his craft and style.

Kobi told us what Sri Aurobindo had said about Suren Ganguli. An English critic once wrote about some lines of poetry by Blake and remarked that no play by Shakespeare could stand up to them. When Dilip Kumar Roy read this, he was not at all convinced and wrote to Sri Aurobindo asking him what he thought about the statement.

Sri Aurobindo replied, “Never judge the arts like poetry, painting, etc in terms of volume. It is true that these lines of mystic poetry from Blake are so fine that in comparison no play by Shakespeare comes anywhere near them. (It can be said that Blake as a mystic poet achieved things beyond Shakespeare’s measure — for Shakespeare had not the mystic’s vision.) It is the same with Suren Ganguli from Bengal, no painting can stand up to the very few paintings he has done.”

One day Kobi asked Nandalal Bose, his painting teacher, “I notice that you always paint pictures of Shiva. Why don’t you paint pictures of Krishna?”

Nandalal Bose replied, “Once I painted a picture of Krishna and showed it to Sister Nivedita. She looked at it and remarked, ‘Why have you made Krishna’s eyes so restless? Krishna’s eyes aren’t like that.’ After that I stopped painting Krishna.”

*

Abanindranath Tagore, like Gurudev, saw in Kobi Nishikanto a new potential for genius. That is why he had directed Nandalal Bose to allow Nishikanto to paint freely according to his inner inspiration. Nandalal was very friendly with his students and would often take them on picnics. On such occasions the line between student and teacher vanished, he became one of them. Thanks to this warm, understanding teacher, Kobi’s artistic work reached a very high standard. Like Gurudev, Abanindranath Tagore also kept a close watch over Nishikanto’s artistic flowering. Once Kobi went with his friend and fellow-student Bonobihari to Ranchi to the latter’s aunt’s house. The wild natural surroundings of Ranchi offered a wonderful backdrop for their artistic imagination and both of them completed a series of paintings there. For Kobi, Bonobihari’s aunt’s warm hospitality and affection were an additional ‘bonus’.

After seeing their Ranchi paintings, Guru Abanindranath Tagore was so pleased that he wrote to Nandalal Bose expressing his deep appreciation of the work and suggested that a special exhibition be organised for these two painters’ Ranchi-work.

Quite a few years ago Bonobihari came to Pondicherry and I was fortunate enough to meet him as I knew his sister. He told me a lot of things I did not know about Gurudev and Nishikanto while they were at Santiniketan. It was he who told me that Nishikanto would regularly read the Arya edited by Sri Aurobindo.

2

Kobi had just arrived in the Ashram at that time. One day he saw the Mother with Gautam Buddha standing just behind her, inside the Ashram-building. “I could see Lord Buddha,” Kobi exclaimed, “but those who were in the Ashram at that time couldn’t see him. Buddha, the supremely poised avatar of compassion, wide-eyed, calm, his whole being exuding love. Mesmerised, I could not take my eyes off him. Then suddenly he disappeared and in that same spot there now stood Shankaracharya wearing the sacred thread, the avatar of knowledge, immobile like a great yogi. Before I could recover from my astonishment, I now saw in place of Shankaracharya, Swami Vivekananda, the incarnation of the synthesis of knowledge, love and action, radiant, intense, dressed in his customary ochre robe, peerless sannyasi and world-conqueror.”

He told Sri Aurobindo about his vision and asked him, “Was my vision true? What does it mean?”

Sri Aurobindo replied, “Yes, your vision was indeed true. Gautam Buddha, the Shankaracharya, Swami Vivekananda, they are all Shiva’s avatars.”

“I saw the Buddha on another occasion also,” Kobi continued; “I was living in Bodhgaya at that time. There is a very old mango-grove on the bank of the Niranjana river and Buddha is said to have spent a long time meditating at that spot.

“One early morning I went there to paint. I was totally immersed in my painting. Suddenly I see Gautam Buddha standing in front of me. He said, ‘You’ve done well to come here instead of going to the temple.’

“Gautam Buddha always meditated in solitary surroundings far from the temples where noise and confusion, theft and corruption reigned.”

I asked Kobi, “This means that Lord Buddha has not left the earth — he is still here upon the earth?”

“Whenever the avatars descended upon the earth, they never abandoned it. They always remain with their true devotees. Look at Sri Ramchandra, he came such a long time ago and the poet Tulsidas wrote the Ramayana so much later. Could he have done this had Ram not been there with him?”

“Do they appear to us in their subtle body? When you see them, how do they appear to you?” I asked again.

“I see them exactly as I see you now. However, those divine bodies are luminous, they radiate light from their bodies. At that moment I don’t feel I’m seeing a vision.”

Once Kobi was wandering in the Santhal villages around Santiniketan. There he saw a Santhal woman sitting in front of her hut, weeping inconsolably. So he went up to her to find out why she was crying. The woman replied between sobs that she had just lost both her husband and son but for some reason nobody wanted to give them a decent burial.

At once Kobi picked up a spade and began digging. On seeing Kobi doing this some Santhals joined him to prepare the burial site. After burying the woman’s husband and little son Kobi continued on his way. Suddenly he noticed that the little boy he had just buried along with his father was clutching his hand and walking along with him.

Kobi exclaimed, “What are you doing here? Go away.”

The boy replied in his Santhal dialect, “I want to go with you!”

Kobi was perplexed. The boy just refused to leave him. Finally after much difficulty (probably after praying to God) Kobi managed to free himself from the boy’s grip and returned home.

*

Kobi talked to me one day about the celebrated chemist-scientist, Acharya Prafulla Chandra Ray. Kobi thought that he was a truly selfless human being.

“He was once raising funds for the flood-affected people. The king of Hitampur donated five hundred rupees. The Acharya had expected someone of his stature to donate much more for the flood victims. Quite pained, he remarked, ‘O king of our poor country, you can spend so much money on the nautch-girls of your court in a single night, but five hundred rupees is all you could give to help your countrymen suffering from the flood?’ ”

Kobi continued, “This seeker of knowledge was the very image of selflessness. He wore clothes until they were reduced to tatters and beyond mending. He felt that buying a new dress for himself was far too extravagant. Such was his selflessness. He left everything he possessed to his country.”

*

When he was a young boy, Kobi went to his uncle’s house in Barisal. His ‘didima’ (maternal grandmother) used to recount to him all sorts of stories. She would tell him stories of the gandharvas in the local dialect which he enjoyed immensely. When he arrived in Santiniketan a show of dances and plays was going on there. Gurudev, dressed in a silk kurta, was watching the show. He was so struck with his splendid appearance that he thought he must certainly be the ‘samrat’ (king) of the gandharvas.

When Kobi was a young man, Gurudev made a rule that nobody was to write anything for outside magazines without his knowledge. Kobi had never written for a magazine outside before that. As soon as this rule was announced, Kobi sent his writings to a magazine outside under the pen name of Gaganbihari. These writings were published and Gurudev happened to read them. He called Nishikanto and said, “Whether you live in Gagan or in Kanan, these writings are yours. You can’t cheat me! Why did you send this without informing me?” “Bado-ma (Hemalata Devi, editor of Bangalakshmi magazine) fed me half a dozen roshogollas and half a dozen samosas and the poetry just flowed out from me!”

“If that is the reason, I’ll give you double the quantity of roshogollas! But next time don’t send any poems without my knowledge,” Rabindranath said laughing.

Gurudev was familiar with Kobi Nishikanto’s poetic creations and knew that his inspiration came from a higher plane. He tolerated his pranks with a lot of affectionate indulgence. When Gurudev saw that Nishikanto was making experiments in different poetic metres and rhythms, he nurtured and protected him with great attentive care so that his poetic work did not suffer in any way. That is why he had asked him to show his work before submitting it to any publisher.

*

Kobi began one day, “Look at Rabindranath Tagore, at his understanding. He was once asked to give his opinion about Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay’s writings. He took one of his books and read three pages, one from the beginning, one from the middle and one from the end. He then wrote a critical essay on Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay of such quality that everyone acclaimed it unanimously. Everyone thought he must have read all his books very closely to write such an excellent criticism.”

“I (Nishikanto) asked, ‘How could you do this? How could you write a critical essay after reading merely three pages?’ ”

Rabindranath replied with a laugh, “See, when you cook rice, isn’t it enough to test just one grain to know if the rice is cooked? Do you need to squeeze each and every grain in the pot? Similarly, by reading three pages at the beginning, middle and end of the book, I could understand the whole book.”

*

Kobi narrated to me this incident about Rabindranath Tagore.

There was once a great commotion in Santiniketan because Gurudev was nowhere to be seen! People started looking for him everywhere. Where could he have disappeared? Unable to trace him people were nonplussed. Just then a carter arrived and dispelled everybody’s perplexity, “I took Gurudev to the Siuri fair (Bolpur) on my bullock-cart; and he’s asked me to collect my charges from you here in Santiniketan.”

Everyone felt relieved. Some of them at once left for Siuri to bring the poet back.

Why had Rabindranath gone to Siuri? After the brutal massacre of the innocent at Jallianwalabagh in Punjab, Gurudev returned the knighthood the British had conferred on him. Angered, the British government decided not to invite him for this annual fair and invited instead Maharaja Manindrachandra Nandi as the chief guest.

Without informing anyone, quietly Gurudev left on a bullock-cart to attend the fair unofficially. When the people saw Rabindranath arrive they were thrilled. First, because he was a poet of international renown, and second, because he was physically very attractive as well. People started running after him. On seeing the crowd milling around him, the government authorities were in a fix. Nobody was paying any attention to the chief guest they had invited. Just then the people from Santiniketan arrived and persuaded him with much difficulty to return with them.

3

Talking about his book of poems titled Aloukik Attaalikaa, Kobi remembered, “One day I went to see the Mother on my birthday. She said, ‘Come, let’s meditate today with my hand on your head.’ She kept her hand on my head like that for a long time. I asked her, ‘Mother, what’s this I’ve seen? First I saw Sri Aurobindo seated like a king on a throne. His attendants, Nirodbaran, Champaklal, and others were sitting around him. After that I couldn’t see Sri Aurobindo anymore but it was you sitting on the throne like a queen surrounded by your attendants. I too was one of them. What does it mean? Why didn’t I see both of you together? I don’t feel very happy about this.’

“The Mother replied, ‘Well, it just means that Sri Aurobindo and I are one and not separate. When you see one, you inevitably see the other.’

“A few days after this vision, Sri Aurobindo left his body,” Kobi added.

I used to enjoy listening to Kobi as he recounted his visions. My heart fills up with joy even today as I recollect one of them. One day Kobi told me, “I saw a great Void (Mahashunya). There was absolutely nothing anywhere. At that moment there appeared a star like a triangle. Then in the bosom of the sky, there rose a marvellous, beautiful green moon. The rays of this green moon showered upon the earth. And from the earth, from the branches of a green tree on it, there blossomed innumerable flowers. In the sky, all kinds of birds were flying in flocks. Then again nothing. Once more that great Void. And once more the star-like triangle appeared. Then a blue moon came up in a blue sky. Blue rays from the blue moon showered upon the earth. The green tree was now covered with flowers and birds of marvellous hues perched on its branches. After some time it all vanished. Again that great Void. And once more the triangle emerged from that great Void. This time a golden full moon rose in the sky and a shower of golden rays fell on the earth. Again that green tree and flowers of different colours and innumerable birds filled its branches.

“When I described my vision to Sri Aurobindo, he answered, ‘All that you have seen is true. The triangle or the star is the symbol of the Mother’s power of creation. The green moon is symbolic of the incarnation of Rama, the blue moon that of Krishna. The birds represent the soul and the tree is a symbol of life.’ ”

Kobi asked, “What avatar is the golden moon? You?”

With a gentle smile, Sri Aurobindo replied, “The coming Avatar.”

Whenever I told Kobi, “You are so fortunate, you can see so many different visions, you can see gods and goddesses. I can’t see anything at all,” he would always answer. “What do you get from seeing visions? Transforming oneself is the real thing. A hundred visions are worth nothing if you can’t transform yourself. You’ve seen the Divine Mother herself. Who says you haven’t seen God?”

“But, I can’t see visions as you do,” I replied.

Kobi observed, “Seeing visions is fine; when one sees Sri Aurobindo and the Mother or gods and goddesses, it makes one feel good. But how would you feel if all through the night you saw a ghost dancing in front of the window?”

I understood on that day that those who have visions are open to both good and bad things. “Thank god! I don’t see visions,” I exclaimed, “I’m much better off without them, really!”

Then Kobi began telling me, “Quite some time ago, every morning I used to walk quite a distance to get flowers for the Mother. On one such morning I saw at a distance something rather big jumping about. On approaching I saw that some people had caught a gorilla and covered it with such a lot of leaves and branches that you could hardly make out it was a gorilla. It seemed more like a big tree covered with leaves and branches.”

“On not finding any flowers I thought of taking the gorilla and offering it at the feet of the Mother. I asked the people around to give me the gorilla. They agreed and they brought the gorilla all tightly tied up to the Ashram. People in the Ashram began wondering what this strange thing was, all tied up and covered with leaves and branches.”

“I went up to the Mother and offered it at her feet. She accepted the offering. It was decided to keep him on one side of the Ashram terrace. But someone objected saying that the gorilla would spoil the terrace. Just then I heard Nirodbaran’s voice and realised that I had been seeing a vision all this while. I requested Nirodbaran to speak to Sri Aurobindo about this vision.”

“Kobi, you’re impossible!” Nirodbaran replied, “You keep having these visions all the time and Sri Aurobindo must be kept informed about them! Is this always possible?”

For a long time I had no way of verifying if Nirodbaran had indeed informed Sri Aurobindo about this vision. Quite some time later, Dilip Kumar Roy invited me to a beautiful cottage on the river Krishna to spend some time with him absorbed in music and sadhana. I wrote to Sri Aurobindo requesting for his permission to go.”

“Sri Aurobindo answered, ‘Nishikanto wants to go out? Has he forgotten that he has offered a gorilla at the Mother’s feet?’”

The gorilla is symbolic of man’s vital power.

3

One day we were talking about music, so I asked Kobi, “Have you ever heard the gandharvas or kinnaras sing? It is said that they are extremely knowledgeable in music and they have marvellous voices.”

“I have heard them indeed. Their song is quite enchanting. Their men and women are both unbelievably beautiful. However the kinnar men and women have horse-like faces.”

Quite taken aback I retorted, “What? Horse-like faces? And didn’t you just say they were unbelievably beautiful?”

“Good heavens, no! Not horse-like in that sense! but a face that is long like a horse’s. For instance when we say that Sri Aurobindo’s face is lion-like, it doesn’t mean that he has a face like a lion’s but the feeling you get from looking at his face makes you think of a lion.”

About Kobi’s vision of the gandharvas, Sri Aurobindo observed, “What you saw are not gods but gandharvas. The gandharvas do not radiate light from their body like the gods.”

On seeing Sri Aurobindo’s photo in my hand one day (the one you see in the Meditation hall) Kobi remarked, “Ah, isn’t he extraordinary! When you see that forehead of his, you feel the moon is rising on the summit of a mountain.”

After Sri Aurobindo left his body and the Mother began appearing for Darshan in the morning, Kobi would see the same scene everyday. “On top of the balcony where the Mother appeared I would see a green moon in the sky and a little boy standing beside laughing. Then there would be nothing. This was followed by a blue moon and the same little boy laughing. Then again this moon was replaced by a golden moon along with the laughing boy. All the three boys looked somewhat alike.”

Atal-da who worked in one of the Ashram gardens also had this capacity of seeing visions. When Kobi asked him about the Balcony Darshan, he replied that he too had seen the green, blue and golden boys.

One day I noticed a photo of Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa in Kobi’s room that was torn, so I asked him about it. He explained. “I had been in hospital for several days once and on my return home I saw this torn picture of Thakur and felt terrible about it. I wanted to get rid of the photo. But then suddenly I noticed a ray of light emanating from this photograph. After this, how could I remove the photo?”

“You must have seen Shiva, Kobi? He too has a crescent moon on his forehead, hasn’t he?”

“I never saw a moon on Shiva’s forehead as if it were set there. The moon was part of his forehead, like a tilak, you know.”

“In the Ramayana, Mahabharata and Bhagvat,” I continued, “there are so many descriptions of the Sun and the Moon-world. But these descriptions have nothing to do with the scientific view of the sun and the moon. Are all these merely imaginary stories then?”

“The sun and moon of the spiritual world are not the same in the physical world. They are quite different,” Kobi replied.

*

I remarked, “You can write poems, you can paint and you can also cook! You are blessed with many artistic skills. You can, I believe, sing as well! You are quite an all-rounder, I see!”

Kobi laughed, “I am no singer, really, but I do enjoy singing. I love listening to songs and I have written a number of songs.”

One day I was afflicted with a severe headache. I met Kobi just in front of the Ashram. Hardly had I told him about my headache than he put his gentle hand on my head. My headache vanished almost at once! Kobi laughed and said, “So your headache’s gone, hasn’t it?”

“How did you do it? I see you can also heal people! But then why do you suffer from so many illnesses yourself? Why don’t you heal yourself?”

Kobi became serious.

“You suffer so much pain. You can, if you wish, rid yourself of it. Why don’t you do it?” I persisted.

Kobi quietly replied, “You see, yogis never remove their own illnesses.”

*

Dada told me one day, “I was having lunch with the Mother in her room upstairs. Just then news came that Kobi Nishikanto was very seriously ill. He felt he was going to leave his body very soon. The doctors had not given him any hope of living much longer. Nishikanto wished to see the Mother and wanted her to place her foot on his chest. This was his last wish and it would fill him with deep joy. So the Mother told me, “Come, let’s go down and see Nishikanto.”

Interrupting her meal, she took me and a few others down to the meditation hall. Nishikanto was lying there on a stretcher. The Mother looked at him for a while. Then holding my arm she placed one of her feet on Nishikanto’s chest. She remained in this position for a couple of minutes. Then she removed her foot and went back upstairs.”

As a result of the Mother’s touch, Kobi Nishikanto was released from the grip of sure death and his health started improving! He lived on for a number of years after this experience of the Mother’s Grace.