| The Paus Mela, which ended this week in Santiniketan, was pretty much the same as every year: a lot of stalls, a lot of crowd, a lot of noise and a lot of folk music and dance. Of course, it is another matter how the Viswa Bharati University authorities (the official managers of the mela) manage to provide worsening sound systems every year despite rapid progress in audio equipment the world over!
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| However, for those who have lived in Santiniketan and those who have loved it, there was a big difference this year: the death of an institution, so to say. For the first time in 113 years, in fact, ever since the inception of this annual fair, there was no stall which had "Kalor dokan" written on it. For the uninitiated, Kalor dokan, which is a tea stall in the heart of Santiniketan, would look like any other, complete with mud stoves and soot-stained kettles. But for Bengalis, Kalor dokan, blessed by Tagore himself, was the last bastion of fading intellectualism is Santiniketan.
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| As the story goes, it was a cold winter morning in 1892 and Tagore and his colleagues had just finished morning prayers at the kanch ghar (glass room). As they emerged, Tagore asked his old help Kalo to see if he could arrange for some tea. Kalo swung into action, begged and borrowed utensils and ingredients and gave his master the morning cuppa. And thus was born Kalor dokan.
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| When the mela was started as an annual event, it was unanimously decided that Kalo's tea stall would have to find a place. Over the years Kalo lived up to the expectations and soon his stall served more than just tea. More importantly, it became the place for alumni meetings and a great hangout for those who needed to establish their intimacy with Tagore's legacy. As intellectuals (Amartya Sen included) gathered for adda over their cups of tea and modest snacks, Kalo's stall grew in stature and importance, both in its year-round existence at Ratanpalli and at the mela ground during the fair.
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| Old timers talk of how once the vice-chancellor of the university, in his capacity as head of mela-organising committee, was out on a pre-mela supervision round and was concerned that Kalor dokan did not figure in the list of stalls. On asking around, he discovered that Kalo had declined to take up his position that year due to a funds constraint. Immediately the VC declared that Kalo should be called in for the mela that year. Besides, he made a rule that Kalo would never have to pay rent to put up his stall. Since then the stall rent has been waived and old students pay a little over their tea and snack bills to help him pay his water and electricity connection for the few days of the mela.
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| After Kalo's passing away, his son carried on the tradition and managed almost a seamless transition across generations. The regulars still flocked to Kalor dokan and old students continued to go down memory lane at the stall. But even he grew old and over the last few years regulars felt him wilting to keep a legacy. This year his heart problems overtook his spirit and he finally declared that the mela would just have to happen without his cup of adda seducer.
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| Kalo has three other sons and surely they could have opted to carry on the tradition. But all of them work for the university (in true Santiniketan tradition) and cannot be spared by their employer from their mela duty even to keep up a legacy.
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| I don't know whether I imagined it or it was really true, but this year many more mela regulars complained that it was no longer what it used to be. For it is not only that Kalo's son has given up. All those who came for the culture and the craft are heartbroken at the mela being progressively taken over by car dealers, water filter vending companies, banks and other large corporates. |
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