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Dear holy children,
I am far away from the OASIS of your love and loftiness. I feel withered and shrunken without you. My heart always weeps and sobs for you all. I can’t bear my loss of your angelic morning view and your love-laden voices. Today when you are far away from me, I realize how lucky I was to be with you and what a priceless prize of God you had been for me. I miss the music, melody and divinity of your morning prayer, national anthem, educative and elevating speeches and the holy aura of meditation in the assembly as well as in the class rooms along with the supportive text dictation.
To quench my thirst for you all, I search your divine faces and your musical voices in all forms of lives and all kinds of voices around me wherever I am though I know I can’t get them. I search you in trees and plants, butterflies and birds and all the rest that are pure and pristine and serene and sacred.

Last Monday 13th April, I was travelling to Jharkhand, a newly created North Indian state, in order to attend a religious congregation on Bengali New Year (1422). As my queenly train from Alipurduar Junction began her movement with her grace and gaiety through the splendidly ornamented tea estate of DUARS that offers the majestic view of the mighty mountains of the Holy Kingdom of Bhutan, I kept gazing at the Beauty Queen Mother Bhutan hoping that the holy mother might favour me by lifting the little faces of my little Buddhas to have a glimpse and flash of you, though it did not happen and I know it cannot happen. After attending the holy occasion for two days, I was returning to my home town on 17th April with renewed spirit and fresh hopes and aspirations. Divine Mother Nature all around was in her splendid mood and captivating beauty and tranquility. I was fully absorbed   in viewing the green clad mother’s serene and sacred face. In my hand I had a book entitled ‘A BOND WITH THE MOUNTAINS’ by Ruskin Bond. But suddenly the tranquility and divinity of my paradise was shattered by a storm of quarrel among some friends. Disturbed and disappointed I did not know what to do.

After a few minutes, frustrated but helpless I stood up and murmured,” Let me get out of this hell.” Then carrying the book ‘ A Bond With Mountains’, I walked away to the compartment door, stood throwing my gaze at the green vegetation of the DUARS and the serene mountains of the Himalayan Kingdom in order to draw repairing and rejuvenating elixir from the trees and plants, and the tranquil view of the Himalayan mother. I was searching my little Buddhas’ pure and pristine faces in the trees, plants and the flying birds for my solace and recuperation. I travelled standing at the door of the train and drawing elixir from the Himalayan mountains. The next morning it was raining at my home town. I fixed my gaze at the little round rain drops descending from the heaven. Hope arose in me that my Buddhas might descend in the rain drops to bless me with their heavenly touch and enlightening glance. I shared with my wife: “Some of my Buddhas might land from the heaven of the Himalayas in the rain drops.” O Little Buddhas, when it rains next, I am going to get soaked in the rain water. I believe every drop of rain will carry you on to my body and I will have a divine bath by virtue of the loving touch of your limbs.  Oh, dear angelic children, Please pray for me that my soul gets eternal shelter on the Himalayan abode when it departs from this frail body.
                                                                                                                                Your loving teacher,                                                                                                                                      Santosh Chowdhury


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