An Oriya by birth, an English poet by divine dispensation, in the town of Cuttack, Odisha, lived a man extraordinaire whose heart perpetually went out especially to the man and woman on the street held ransom by a world growing more corrupt and hostile day by day.

On a certain January afternoon years ago decreed by destiny I sat enraptured in Tinkonia Bagicha devouring his royal response to my questions, noticing all the while how his resolve “To be whole / To know where the water lies” (On the bank of the Ganges) had lent a halo around his determined chin.