Though few literary giants have been accorded as much adoration and compassion as Michael Madhusudan Dutt, the exemplary poet who made Bengali literature reputable with his sophisticates verses and innovative mind. Nevertheless, beneath the curtain of artistic prowess, lays a tale of personal misfortune and unrealized aspirations which ended in a haunting last days for Dutt.
Henrietta Sophia White, the companion of MadhuSudan’s later years is usually recalled as the major presence who accompanied MadhuSudan during the turbulent period. Instead for Madhusudan, life was more than a succession of poetic pursuits; it was a bitter war against hardships. Michael Madhusudan, trudging in the throes of monetary misery, emotional agony, and his ill-health was petering out in the twilight of his lifetime.
The awakening of modernity in that age heralded a period in which Madhusudan stood out with his poetry for being acknowledged and recognized. However, this prosperity did nothing to diminish the intensity of his perceived personal misfortunes. The last days of his life and the events surrounding them are the subject of many discussions which demonstrate just how a leading poet was in agony due to the progression of his illness and the profound feeling of an unlived life.
Fashioned in March 1873, the health of Michael Madhusudan Dutta suddenly turned into the worse, foreboding the onset of the decline, which was aggravated by the weight of age and infirmity. His life was like that of a tightrope walker, becoming more and more problematic as days went by, with each day getting worse with agony and despair.
The pitiful condition of Henrietta's health did little to impart Madhusudan any relief as a new layer of sorrow was added to an already troubled mind. Despite all his attempts at medical help and understanding the disease, Madhusudan was stuck in a bind of addiction and self-destruction, unable to tide over the repercussions of his own action.
In a very harrowing episode when Madhsuudan had totally lost his powers, Deputy Magistrate Gourdas Basak visited him in North Calcutta. What he witnessed was a scene etched in his memory forever:What he witnessed was a scene etched in his memory forever:
When it was my last visit to North Calcutta and I saw Madhu in the common reading room, such a pathetic scene is already engraved in my memory. Back then, the weather was not what it is now. He was breathing like a machine on the bed because he was suffering from the disease. There was blood drooling down the mouth. At that time, his wife had a severe fever problem. If you buy this pack, you will get 600+ conversions of similar problems. Just then when I saw him coming in, Madhu raised herself a bit. And then he literally wept. Witnessing the poor condition of his wife had affected his feelings of masculinity. He did not voice any of his pain and misery. He went on, 'woes piled to an army.' I touched her pulse and her head against my fingers. He showed her with his fingers. (به دستگیری دیده اند) He then took a deep breath, sighed and spoke in quiet, 'Do not look at me, think of her.' Genungan ku kepada dia.'
The concluding months of Madhusudanâ life depict the picture of a man wrecked by incessant onslaught of destiny and the high costs of life. In spite of his literary prowess and fortitude, he inadvertently came across the entanglement of grief and despair that overshadowed his last days with the shadows of death and whispers of unrealized ambition.
Madhusudan's truly exceptional contributions to Bangladesh literature and the fact that he is a titan of literature still remain, influencing the literary scene of Bangladesh. Still, his terrible end became a vivid example of human mortality and the unavoidable movement of time that did not leave even the second chance to his personality. No matter how long years passed, the pain and his feeling of regret may never leave his image.