Kobi Guru took his final bow in the monsoon of Srabon

The monsoon always held a special place in the heart of Rabindranath Tagore. It was not just a season but a muse a rhythm that echoed in his verses and the sky under which his creativity soared. And fittingly, it was on such a monsoon day Srabon 22, 1348 Bengali calendar that the poet took his final bow, leaving behind a legacy that remains unmatched in Bengali literature and culture.

On August 7, 1941, at his ancestral home in Jorasanko, Kolkata, Tagore passed away, bringing an era to a close. The day is etched into Bengali consciousness as one of mourning and remembrance a day heavy with grief, reflection, and reverence.

Even decades after his death, Tagore’s presence permeates Bengali life. His name invokes not only admiration but devotion. His poems, songs, short stories, novels, essays, plays, and paintings continue to shape discourse, inspire performances, and dominate conversations in seminar halls, classrooms, living rooms, and on social media timelines.

In moments of crisis or celebration, heartbreak or joy, love or loss Rabindranath is always there. His words comfort and challenge, offering both solace and insight. No other figure in Bengali history has remained so timeless, so universally resonant.

He taught Bengalis how to think, feel, and express. Through literature, music, and philosophy, he nurtured an entire civilization’s emotional and intellectual maturity.

Today marks the 84th anniversary of his passing — a moment to reflect not only on his death but on his extraordinary life.

In the last weeks of his life, Tagore's health began to deteriorate. By July 30, 1941, he had reached the final bend in his creative journey. That day became a poignant one — he composed his final poem, wrote his last letter, and placed his last signature.

At the time, he did not know that he would undergo surgery. He had long expressed opposition to any form of bodily intrusion. During his illness at Shantiniketan, he told his physician Bimalananda,

“Since childhood, no blade has touched my body. Must I be cut up just before I leave the world?”

To Rani Chanda, wife of his secretary Anil Chanda, he said, “We must all die someday. One way or another, this body will reach its end. Let it end naturally. What’s the need for cutting and slicing?”

Yet, out of concern for his pain, he was convinced that a minor surgery might help relieve his suffering. Dr. Bidhan Chandra Roy visited him and made the case for the procedure. In the absence of Dr. Nilratan Sarkar, his personal physician, who was away grieving his wife's death, the decision was made — without full consent or proper counsel.

On the morning of July 30, the poet, unaware of what lay ahead, composed his last poem. As he dictated it to Rani Chanda, his words echoed deep self-awareness and spiritual clarity:

"Likhe Rakhlen Rani Chandra,
Tomar Srishty'r Poth Rekhecho Akirno Kori
Bichitro Cholona-Jal, He Cholonamoyi."

He paused, breathless, then added with effort Onayeshe Je Pereche Shohona Shahite/ She Pay Tomar Haathe/Shantir Okkhoy Odhikar.
Then came silence — the kind that fills rooms before parting. Later that day, when told the surgery would take place, he quietly responded, “Sudden is better.”

An operation theater had been set up on the veranda to spare him the stress of hospital travel. The procedure was performed. Though technically successful, infection followed a common threat before the advent of penicillin. The poet never recovered. Fever, hiccups, and kidney failure followed.

At last, Dr. Nilratan Sarkar returned and visited his beloved patient. After checking his pulse, he stood in silence, eyes full of tears. Nothing needed to be said. Those around understood. The time had come.

On August 6, 1941, Tagore passed away. Srabon 22 a day forever linked with his absence.

Rabindranath Tagore’s literary journey began early — at the age of eight. His body of work spans poetry, fiction, essays, plays, songs, letters, travelogues, and children’s literature. His creative output redefined the contours of Bengali — and world — literature.

In 1913, he became the first non-European Nobel laureate in Literature, awarded for Gitanjali, a collection that gave voice to a new poetic mysticism rooted in universal humanism. His songs many of which became anthems of the heart — inspired freedom fighters, dreamers, and lovers alike.

He is also the composer of Bangladesh’s national anthem, "Amar Shonar Bangla."

But Rabindranath was more than a writer. He was a visionary educator, social reformer, philosopher, and rural development advocate. He founded Visva-Bharati University to champion holistic education rooted in Indian tradition and open to the world. He established agricultural credit systems to support struggling farmers.

In protest of the Jallianwala Bagh massacre, he returned his knighthood to the British crown a rare and bold act of defiance.

Born on 25th Boishakh, 1268 (Bengali calendar) in Jorasanko, Tagore was the 14th of 15 children of Debendranath and Sarada Devi. Raised in a household steeped in art, intellect, and reformist zeal, he was exposed early to the currents of thought that shaped Bengal’s renaissance.

His travels along the Padma, Meghna, and Jamuna rivers brought him close to the soul of rural Bengal. These experiences deeply informed his writing, infusing it with compassion, realism, and lyrical beauty.

In Bengali literature, Rabindranath is a towering banyan tree, under whose shade generations have flourished. His relevance endures not out of nostalgia, but because his work speaks to the eternal the struggles and dreams that define us.

He is more than a literary icon he is a civilizational compass. A mystic, a thinker, a rebel, and a poet Tagore remains woven into the rhythm of Bengali life. He is in our songs, our schools, our griefs, and our hopes.

And like the monsoon that returns each year, bringing renewal and memory, Rabindranath returns — again and again — with each recitation, each note, each word.

Shahadat Hossen Towhid- Young writer & Journalist