Excerpt: The Hour of God
A key unlocks a gate, memory flares. Loss arrives as a scent,…
Read more →From vada pavs in Mumbai to quiet lessons by the sea — Vinita Agrawal remembers a poet whose greatness never outgrew his gentleness.

in Jayanta da was a beautiful soul and a remarkable human being. Everything about him was inspiring – his poetry, his physical agility despite his age, his lucid mind and his humility. Despite being a decorated poet and having a huge fan following in India and overseas, Jayanta da’s feet were on the ground, his head firmly on his shoulders.
He had a delightful sense of humour and an endearing ability to narrate amusing anecdotes that would leave me chuckling. He also had a roaring love for food: street food, restaurant food, home food, everything! He loved the quintessential Mumbai vada pav and I remember being chastened by well wishers when I indulged him with a vada pav everyday for the duration of his stay in Mumbai once.
It seems rather hurtful to recount those carefree, happy hours now. Happy memories feel raw and poignant when one looks back on them after the person is no more. Jayanta da’s passing has left a terrible vacuum in my life as well as in the literary world. I imagine it’s going to be rare, if not impossible, to find a poet as gifted and humble as him – that combination might be hard to replicate.
I recall once, we were sitting on the parapet of Land’s End watching the sea lapping the rocks below. Jayanta da happened to observe a woman selling small, plastic toys on the footpath. He drew out a ten rupee note and bought a plastic toy whistle from her. I was puzzled by his actions but refrained from expressing my confusion. After a few minutes, several passers by, stopped by and bought toys from the seller. Jayanta da, paused and said, “See! You buy one and a cascade starts…” I wondered silently if there was a subtle message there…
Whenever Jayanta da spoke about his adolescent days, the child in him bubbled up from layers of tiredness of being a nonagenarian. I saw tears fill his eyes as he recounted incidents close to his heart, I saw his jaws convulse as he gave way to emotions that were anchored in memories, that went beyond the confines of time and space, like when he mentioned how his mother threw away his precious diaries when he was a teenager. “I used to be a loner in school. Those diaries were the only voice I had in those days…”, he said.
I remember him deeply every day since he left us on the 27th of August. Remember him with tenderness and nostalgia for the person he was, for the values of honesty, dignity and humility he stood for and for how much he meant to us as a poet. Jayanta da, the morning after you left us, a Laughing Dove visited my terrace, looked me in the eye and cooed away incessantly. I imagine it was you, saying your final goodbyes and singing of your freedom at last. Of course. Birds speak to me like that.