পৃষ্ঠা:Bezboroa and Few Others.pdf/১১

এই পৃষ্ঠাটোৰ মুদ্ৰণ সংশোধন কৰা হোৱা নাই

Bezboroa and Few Others

Sambalpur, resigned his services and started his own timber business. He was then about sixty four but even at this advancing age he did not rest from work, be it for earning of for literary causes. Though fate had ordained that Lakshminath should live away from the place of his birth, his mind was always in Assam, in her sights and sounds, in her gentle people and in her culture and language. Indeed love for Assam, the Assamese people and their culture and literature became a passion in his life - almost a romantic passion - which inspired his literary production. This yearning for his native land found adequate expression in The Will of Kripabar Barboroa. In this will, patriotism has been sublimated into a romantic passion unsurpassed in any literature. It was this passionate love for the motherland that inspired him to emerge as 'Kripabar Barboroa' with Kakator Topola, Obhatani and Bhavar Burburani and others since all these missions had sprung from the melancholic homesickness. At the request of the Assamese public he set his hand to writing and autobioraphy which he patiently wrote up to 1936. This autography Or Jivan Sowaran it the most humane and intimate of all his works. It was this hankering for association with his fellow men that brought him again and again to his native land, and when he visited Assam in 1931 he was flooded with receptions, honours and ovation wherever he went. The Assamese people had made him an emperor of their hearts, the love and respect of his admirers was indeed a great solace to him in his last days. As if in fulfilment of Lakshminath's cherished dream to mix with the dust of Assam, he came to Assam and fell seriously ill at his daughter's home at Dibrugarh. On recovering slightly he decided to go back to Sambalpur. But he could not do so. Providence had willed that his mortal remains be reduced to ashes on the banks of the mighty river Brahmaputra, on March 26th 1938, to mingle with the flowing waters which had cradled him once in its lap at his birth. A strange coincidence indeed!