One of the highlights of my trip so far has been a visit to Shantiniketan, the “university” founded by the the polymathic poet/artist/novelist/playwright/songwriter/educator Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941). Tagore came from a wealthy family of landowners, and many of his relatives were renowned artists. But Rabrindranath was by far the most famous. He took up painting at the age of 60 (producing some marvelous art), wrote 2500 songs during his lifetime (nearly all Indians know many of them), and produced 12 volumes of poems, plays, and literature. There was no artistic endeavor, it seems, in which Tagore did not excel.

A volume of his poems, Gitanjali, fell into the hands of William Butler Yeats, who brought Tagore to the attention of the West, with the result that Tagore was the first Asian awarded a Nobel Prize—for literature in 1913.

Here’s Tagore in old age, with his characteristically piercing gaze, resembling that of a kindly Rasputin. He is still a cultural hero to many Indians, especially Bengalis:

Below is a self-portrait of Tagore. He never had any artistic training, but simply decided one day, late in life, to take up painting. His portraits show a melancholy side: although from his youth he was lionized and much admired, his wife died when he was 41; and he never remarried or—as far as I can tell—had any romantic relationships for the last forty years of his life. He confessed to being lonely and almost never expressed personal feelings in his letters.

Below is the room in his Calcutta house in which Tagore died at 80 after a botched prostate operation. It’s but one of many rooms in the huge, sprawling compound in which the extended family lived. (Tagore had 14 surviving brothers and sisters, of which he was the last.) I had to take the picture surreptitiously since photography was forbidden. Tagore’s godlike status in India is shown by the requirement that you remove your shoes when visiting his houses in Calcutta and Santiniketan.

Here’s Rabindranath’s car: a Humber, whatever that is. I’m sure a reader will suss out the age and details about this vehicle. A sign on the garage said that this car is still kept in running order.

But the foundation of Santiniketan, in a peaceful rural area about three hours by train from Calcutta, was perhaps the achievement of which Tagore was proudest. Here he wanted to put his philosophy of education into action, combining artistic instruction with practical advice, all with the aim of spiritually elevating everyone. Many famous people came to teach there or visit, and classes were held outside under the trees.

Here’s his large house in Santiniketan; my friend and host, Kunal, is to the right:

On Christmas evening we went to a concert put on by the university; Tagore held such gatherings to mark many holidays, Hindu or otherwise, and to commemorate the change of seasons. It was a lovely concert, a mixture of Western Christmas carols (okay) and Tagore’s own songs (fantastic). The musicians were drawn largely from the student body at the university, and the concert was held inside a small glass pavilion built by Tagore’s father:

Some of the women singers (excuse the blurriness; these were taken with a camera hand-held in natural light):

One of the musicians, playing a bowed instrument called the esraj. There was also a harmonium, the stringed instrument to the right (a sitar, I think), the tabla (drums) and an electric guitar.

But the point of this post, which seems to have gotten out of hand, is to let you hear one of Tagore’s many songs (he also wrote a song chosen by Nehru to be India’s national anthem). It was the second song played in the concert, and I found it ineffably beautiful and melancholy. I’ve read some of Tagore’s poems and looked at his paintings, but I find his songs to be his most moving work. He himself said that if any of his artistic endeavors lasted after his death, it would be his music.

The song, called “Tai Tomar Anando Amar Por,” expresses Tagore’s joy at being one with the Eternal Creator (his religion was a bit nebulous, but he had a deep spirituality that seems to have bordered on pantheism). This lovely version was made by the Bangladeshi singer Iffat Ara Khan; the photos accompanying the music are cheesy; just ignore them.