In 1911, unknown to all of us, the shadow of death had already fallen (on Calcutta). I still remember my father reading with his friends the news of the transfer of the capital to Delhi. The Statesman of Calcutta was furious but was thinking more of the past than future and was not inspired to prophecies in the spirit of Cassandra. We, the Bengalis, were, but not in the spirit of Cassandra. We were flippant. One of my father’s friend dryly said, “They are going to Delhi, the graveyard of empires, to be buried there.” Everybody present laughed, but none of us on that day imagined that although the burial was the object of our most fervent hopes it was only thirty six year away.
Nirad C. Chaudhuri recalled their (Bengalis) reaction in his autobiography published in 1951 just after independence.
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