Dakshin Darwaja

In Bengal Dakshin Darja   literally means the south Gate of  Death God "Yama" which no people likes to cross as it will lead you straight to the lap of death ,an unknown area where any living person/creature does not want to go of his/her own.

But my Dakshin Darja is just its opposite or rather I may call it 'Gateway to eternal life’ Dakshin Darja is still there but I can make no claim to have known whether  it still holds the same dream or its the same gateway to the dreamland of my child hood for the younger generations nowadays.

In reality,Dakshin Darja is the South gate of  Kila Nizamat in Lalbagh,Murshidabd,within the periphery of which the big Grand Hazarduary,Imambara,Wasif Manjil,Mosque,Beautiful Garden with fountains and a long stretch of wide gothic  railings along the bank of the river Ganges were there which were the meek spectators of those colorful days of us, the days of our friendship and  infatuation for so many wonderful girls whose mere glance at us caused our heart to run faster.

I did my schooling from  Nawab Bahadur's Institution which was founded by Mani Begum, wife of Mirjafar.  Mirjafar is not well accepted by average Indian as he took the main role in dethroning Nawab Sirajdullah and eventually killed him at the instigation of English. And the English came to power virtually from the defeat of Siraj in the battle of Plassey.

Mani Begum, widow of Mirjafar was a very strong lady and she established the wonderful school,"Nawab Bahadur's Institution".It is a huge building with its own hostel, play ground and quarters etc etc.In our days,sometimes in late sixties ,it was a Govt School(It still is..) and we were supposed to pay only half a rupee and that too for a full month's Tiffin.

We used to go to our School through the South gate of Kila Nizamat.The South gate was a huge gate with permanent structure and a Roshan Chowki over it. There used to be live recital of shehnai every morning and evening. The players of Shehnai were in the regular pay roll of the estate of the Nawab of Murshidabad. And on crossing the Dakshin Darja,there was a big gong and it was made to bell every hour by paid employees of the estate. Along side the gong, there was some quarter like structure and there lived our class friend Jama Nawab. Jama used to call me 'Ashok,the Great'.He was a jolly good fellow but a poor Nawab. Their family used to get a very meager portion of the Privy Purse which was allotted to the Nawab of Murshiabad that time. Jama is the Grand son(from his daughter’s side)  of the last Nawab of Murshidabad,Late Wasif Ali Meerza. So long Wasif Ali Meerza was alive and Privy Purse was not abolished by the Government, Nawabs maintained pretty good life style and so Jama and his family members. But they faced hard times with the abolition of Privy Purse. But Jama wore always a smiling face. After 30 years,I met my school day friend, Jama Nawab who is now known as ‘Chhote Nawab’ of Murshidabad with the same smiling face .He recognized me instantly and gave me a royal reception indeed and made special arrangement for me to witness ‘Bera Festival’ which are held on the last Thursday of Bhadra every year on river Ganges. It is a grand festival from the days of Nawabs and worthy of witnessing, for anybody it must be recognized as a lifetime experience.

As soon as we crossed the Gong, there came Wasif Manjil, with a beautiful garden with fountains and an artificially created hillock like thing. We spent many evenings on it ,chatting endlessly with friends. Our friend Pappu Nawab stayed in a mansion within the kila Nizamat. Once I had the privilege of entering into his house and just by chance encountered with a ravishingly beautiful girl seemed to be some family member of the royal family. It lasted only for a fraction of a second and instantly I fantasized  myself to be the hero of 'Khudidta Pashan' and the lady unknown a near one from my previous birth.

However, those were the days when dreams and reality lived together.

We moved forward and on our way to School there stood the great Hazarduari and Imambara. On those days, there were not much tourist and entire surrounding was somber and free from nonsense.  And by crossing the path, in between the alleys of dream and real life which existed those days in close liaison, we reached at our school gate. And inside the school, there waited a wonderful world for us.