The Day Dharmanagar Stood Still: Remembering Biswabandhu Sen!!!
Biswanath Bhattacharya
December 26, 2025
There are days when time seems to bend and break, when a hush falls so deep over a place that even the wind seems to hold back its breath. The day Biswabandhu Sen bid his final farewell, Dharmanagar stood still, its heart caught between sorrow and disbelief. It was as if the promise of dawn had been eclipsed by a dark, silent cloud—one that settled heavily over every lane, every soul, every memory that bore his gentle imprint.
Dharmanagar, vibrant as a market at midday, suddenly became a tableau of stillness. Storefronts half-shuttered, the temple bell’s chime echoing with uncommon solemnity, children’s laughter replaced by whispers that trembled like leaves in a listless breeze. The town mourned as if a river had dried at its source, leaving behind the cracked earth of longing and the quiet ache of loss. For Biswabandhu Sen was not merely a resident—he was the living thread that bound the fabric of its everyday life, an ever-present current beneath the surface of its collective existence.
To me, the loss is intimate and unshakably personal, woven into the contours of my friendship with Ratna, his beloved wife, and Swadhin, who carries his father’s spark. Ratna’s resilience, the warmth of her laughter and the quiet strength in her eyes, was always mirrored by Biswabandhu’s steadfast presence. Our conversations—over tea, beneath an old ceiling fan, amidst the scent of sandalwood and rain—were coloured by their shared dreams and unspoken devotion. Grief now sits with us like a silent guest, shifting the light in the room and deepening the space between words.
Biswabandhu Sen was a man marked by contrasts—a warrior’s spirit in a poet’s frame, a seeker’s humility paired with a leader’s courage. His smile was the steady flame that guided so many through the fog of adversity, and his words, gentle yet unyielding, shaped the hearts of those who listened. He transformed Dharmanagar not only through tireless work, but through the joy he kindled in its people; he was, at once, the architect of progress and the guardian of tradition. His selfless acts—large and small—were ripples in the quiet pond of daily life, touching lives unseen, leaving traces that will linger long after the world moves on.
Yet, it is his cultural legacy that remains the most radiant. A poet at sunrise, an artist at dusk, Biswabandhu drew from the well of community—a well deepened by each story, each festival, each shared prayer. He taught us that beauty is an act of service, and that building a community is much like tending a garden: it requires patience, care, and the faith that tomorrow’s blossoms will carry today’s fragrance. Dharmanagar, once a modest township, stands transformed—a tapestry of learning, art, and kindness—each thread a testament to his vision and resolve.
Now, in his absence, the image that returns to me is of a mighty banyan tree, felled by a sudden storm. The canopy that once gave shade and solace lies broken, but the roots—deep, tangled, and enduring—continue to nourish the earth. Biswabandhu Sen’s roots run through the lives he touched, the causes he championed, the love he sowed. Though the town has lost its shade, the memory of his shelter endures, promising new growth, new hope, new stories whispered on the wind.
As we gather our grief, we also gather the seeds of his legacy. Dharmanagar, in its silent vigil, finds the courage to hope again—remembering a man whose life was both a sunrise and a sunset, whose absence is a hush that calls forth not just mourning, but gratitude and resolve. The day the town stood still, it also learned to move forward, bearing the light Biswabandhu Sen so generously gave, in every heart and every tomorrow.
(Tripurainfo)
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