September 1819. A ship moored at the most popular harbour on
the bank of the River Hooghly near the Water Gate of Fort William – the
fortress of the East India Company. A twenty years old British gentleman's feet touched the earth of the country for the very first time that was going to be his home for the next twenty years
until the day he would be sent back to his motherland due to poor health. Born and
brought up in Bristol, he came from a good family but with a dwindling fortune.
There was a time when he even had to share the only pair of breeches with his
younger brother. His poor eyesight made him give up a career in architecture
and eventually he was offered a job at the Bengal Mint. Here his interest in
coinage and numismatics was born which would later lead to his decipherment of Brahmi
and Kharosthi scripts of ancient India. He was James Prinsep – one of those
British gentlemen whom India would be forever indebted to for his invaluable
contribution to the Indian Studies.
In 1832 he became the Assay Master at the Calcutta Mint as
well as the Secretary of the Asiatic Society – the beloved brainchild of Sir
William Jones. He not only revived the Asiatic Society but also sent a jerk to
the Orientalist movement that was going through a lull that time. He started
publishing the Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal that drew a lot of
attention back to the field of Indian Studies. The second innings of the
movement was more effective, more dramatic. Over the course of next six years
James Prinsep helped in several excavations, sorted and documented innumerable
number of coins that helped laid the foundations of Indian coinage up to the
post-Gupta period. Finally his attention was drawn to Firoz Shah’s Lat, the golden
pillar with unknown inscription on it found at the ruins Firoz Shah’s kotla,
where the famous cricket stadium now stands. James Prinsep’s decipherment of
the Brahmi inscription on the Ashoka Pillar made history itself as it totally
changed the course of Indian Studies. He revived the name of the forgotten
Mouryan king who took the message of Dharma to the world preached by another
prince on the soil of our very nation hundreds of years before the Christ came
to save the humanity. James Prinsep brought King Ashoka in the map of Indian
history and sealed his own name alongside the King’s as the decipherer of the
famous Brahmi lipi that helped fill in the ‘missing link’ of the Indian
history.
The ghat where Prinsep had once been brought ashore eventually
became the famous landing place for the countless British gentlemen who came to
seek fortune in this country. In 1843, a Palladian style structure was erected
in the memory of the unusually talented man who died young (1840, London) owing
to the Indian climate and an overexerted, overworked mind. Prinsep ghat was
previously known as Prinsep’s ghat, an unofficial gateway of India, welcoming
the big fishes during the era of Raj.
A lot of water had flown through the river since then and
the famous Prinsep’s Ghat had faded into oblivion since the independence. It was
not until 2001 the memorial was restored during the beautification programme of
along the bank of the River Hooghly. Now maintained by the PWD of West Bengal
Government Prinsep Ghat memorial looks regal especially during the night time
with all the lightings. During my short tenure in one of the famous business
schools of Calcutta, Prinsep ghat was a part of my daily travel route, and not
to mention, the most favourite. I would never fail to look at the massive
structure while passing by and feel mesmerised by its change of appearance from
day to night. What looked like a melancholy ancient figure recounting its bygone
golden days to itself would appear surreal at night while the Second Hooghly
Bridge standing over its head like a overprotective guardian angel.
It was primarily my idea to incorporate the Prinsep Ghat during
D’s upcoming Calcutta visit. None of us had ever been to this iconic spot of
the city. I have already mentioned many times that I am a weird type of
Bengali. Despite my interest in the history of Buddhism, I never really felt
the urge to pay a visit to this place mostly due to its cheap popularity. Even on
the rainy weekday afternoon the memorial porch was swarming with the weird
generation of young Bengalis who think owning a DSLR and a facebook account gives
them the triumphant intellectual status. No wonder the story of the Assay
Master and his wild goose chases would sound immaterial to them.
The Prinsep Ghat station that comes under the Kolkata
Circular Railway looked empty spare a few lazy passengers waiting under the
shade of the platform. Years ago, my father took me on the circular railway
journey that circles the railway stations mostly built around the bank of the
River Hooghly. Back then the circular rail coaches used to be different from
the regular rail coaches with much wider seats made of wood. I was trying to
recall the little girl’s sheer delight of spending an unusually special afternoon
with her father who had planted the seed of the wanderer personality that would
grow into her defining trait eventually. I suddenly felt old.
I
have come a long way since that afternoon train journey.
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