The Thakurbari in Jorasanko, north of Kolkata, is the ancestral home of the Tagore family currently located on the Rabindra Bharati University campus to Jorasanko Dwarkanath Tagore Lane, Kolkata built in the 18th century on land donated by the famous Sett family burrabazar by Prince Dwarkanath Tagore. It is the house in which the poet and the first non-European Nobel Prize winner, Rabindranath Tagore was born also the place where he spent part of his childhood and died August 7, 1941.
In the house of the poet in Jorasanko had lived since the age of eight years, according to Indian custom for brides, Kadambari, a sister, a woman of great culture and beauty. He had grown close and it was his playmate. Kadambari when the poet, obeying imposition of his father, he agreed to move to another house.
Gesture of despair and provocative, utterly incomprehensible to the mentality and the Hindu religion. Throughout his life, the poet takes the pain and regret of this loss, sentendosene responsible. The wife Mrinalini, patiently stands by simply giving him five children. From personal experience of love and pain Tagore let flow the wonderful poems that have fed the minds and hearts of generations of readers, even in the West.
Jorasanko lulled me with the voice of beauty and revealed to me the life of the world. Now back to this country ready to again in the Great Mud River that feeds the ins and outs of the time. Calcutta has loose for me its mazes. I have never abandoned the Bengali and I translated it myself in my English poems. Yet I can express myself in all languages, living and dead. I belong in their deep rhythm and meandering. I am a patriot, but my homeland is wherever my hand to shake that of another man, wherever my ears can hear a song or a prayer, wherever my eyes can see a smile or a look of pain that can be soothed. I myself have my home.
Humility runs silently, without attracting attention, crawling on the existence mutual fund. It is the bed of the Great River. Ever since I turned eighteen, who, after having crossed the threshold of sleep, I find myself living the same dream. I'm sitting in a quiet and dark, enveloped in a heavy fog. Then, slowly, the bright blades cut through the haze, shaping the profile of the landscape. Around me I see trees appear nameless hills from the eccentric shape, extraordinarily flourishing vegetation, waterfalls and rivers swollen and protruding. The fog clears, gets up, is reabsorbed in this luminous globe that overwhelms everything.
The world is painted in colors that no human mind can imagine. At this point I woke up initially. With the passage of time, however, the dream was filled with details. The sounds, the gurgling water of a waterfall, the rustle of a plant move in the breeze became sharper and small animals made their appearance hesitant. Even today, when I dream, after the fog clears completely, I get up and start to walk. Apart from the first row of trees extends a plain cut in half by a river. The horizon is sinuous, full of hills.
As my gaze wanders under the weight of beauty, I see a child approaching me. It is completely naked, he must have a little more than five years. We look at each other in the eye. Its reminiscent of the night sky studded with stars. Until a few years ago my dream ended here. Now I find myself back in front of him. I'm dreaming, I know. The child takes my hand and starts walking. He leads me along paths on which no man could set foot. Indicates things and gives them a name. He speaks in a language that I never heard, but I completely understand his words. It stops a few steps from the river, the sun and indicates the appointment. Then, both close our eyes and breathe deeply. Its small leaves my hand, yet they are unhappy, I am a new ray of light in the darkness of the world.