Soliloquy of a Wandering Pilgrim

When I was very young and the urge to be someplace was on me, I was assured by mature people that maturity would cure this itch. When years described me as mature, the remedy prescribed was middle age. In middle age I was assured that greater age would calm my fever and now that I am fifty-eight perhaps senility will do the job. Nothing has worked. In other words, I don't improve, in further words, once a bum always a bum. I fear the disease is incurable.- John Steinbeck Photo: Dinesh Korday The morning I left home I had high fever. It was a legacy of a recent respiratory tract infection. A kind flight attendant offered paracetamol and the  temperature was under control. Thankfully some some infections in life are still remediable or should I say medicable. Reaching Mumbai I was glad to meet my friend Dinesh Korday. While together we enjoyed coffee I showed him the book that was taking me back to Africa, once again after 3 years. Good coffee, a close friend and

It all started with a story book. In 1937, Bibhuti Bhushan Bandyopadhyay , one of the leading writers of modern Bengali literature penned ' Chander Pahar '. It is a story of a 22 year old young man from rural Bengal who sets out to Africa on an adventure of a lifetime in 1909. (If you have not read the book already you can read the plot summary here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chander_Pahar ) Like millions of Bengali readers I had read this adventure story when I was a kid and then as I grew up, as indicated by its publisher (juvenile literature); it became a thing of the past, a childhood fantasy for me.  It is only in recent years, after I climbed Kilimanjaro (2005), I picked up 'Chander Pahar' again. It is then, the book started opening new meanings and fresh directions for me. It is then I began to understand the meaning of the Swedish proverb- 'In a good book the best is between the lines' .  My repeated readings of 'Chander Pah