Madhupur / Karmatar Tour /Giridih/Deoghar Tour
Day 0: HWH (2320 hrs) > Madhupur (Sept 4, 2025) by Mokama Express
Day 1: Madhupur at 5:10 am and Madhupur Local Exploration (Sept 5, 2025)
Day 2: Parasnath Trek & Giridih Local (Sept 6, 2025)
Day 3: Deoghar (or Baba Baidyanath Dham) (Sept 7, 2025)
Day 3: Madhupur (22 25 hrs) >HWH (Sept 7, 2025) Upasana Express
Day 4: HWH (Sept 8, 2025) 3:05 am
Tour plan : https://maps.app.goo.gl/QiP7JQNGo2TnJ1MN8
After freshening up and having a quick meal, we set off for Karmatar, about an hour’s drive (40 km) from Madhupur.
On the way, we visited Pathrol Kalibari (also known as Kali Pahadi Temple) and later stopped briefly at Sikatiya Dam. Just before reaching Karmatar, we came across a beautiful Seventh-day Adventist Church.
Spirits were high, because this was the place where the revered Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar spent the last 17 years of his life. Disillusioned by the heckling and hostility he faced in Kolkata, he sought peace and dignity here in this tribal belt.
We entered a compound near Karmatar railway station. At the entrance stood a large banyan tree, enclosed within iron railings with a plaque and statue of Vidyasagar.
A local boy explained, “Vidyasagar used to teach village children under this very tree.” He then pointed to a small room, saying, “That’s where he treated villagers with homeopathy.”
Next to it stood Bhagabati Bhavan, named after Vidyasagar’s mother, now used for trust activities.
The main building was a long, single-storey house. Inside, a small room was identified as Vidyasagar’s living quarters, containing a simple bed and a statue of him. Other rooms displayed pictures from his life, though the captions contained many spelling errors and perpetuated myths — such as the story of him crossing the Damodar River. The exhibits also misrepresented the individuals who influenced his thought process.
Sourabh Da and Shampa Mashi both remarked, “This is our problem. In the name of restoration, we simply renovate everything and lose authenticity.”
The ceramic tiled floors and modernised windows confirmed their point.
Note: Overnight stay facilities are available here. With prior arrangement, lunch can also be served.
Although Karmatar didn’t quite meet my expectations, we bought some books on Vidyasagar’s life here. Still, I felt it could have been preserved with greater care and organisation.
A Brief History of Vidyasagar in Karmatar
Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar (1820–1891) was one of the leading figures of the Bengal Renaissance, continuing the social reforms initiated by Raja Rammohan Roy. Poet Michael Madhusudan Dutt once described him as: “The genius and wisdom of an ancient sage, the energy of an Englishman, and the heart of a Bengali mother.”
A man of integrity and courage, Vidyasagar fearlessly stood up even to British officials. But when betrayed and hurt by his own people, he was deeply shaken. In 1873–74, he left Kolkata and moved to Karmatar (then in Bihar) to spend the final 17–20 years of his life among the Santhals at Nandan Kanan, Karmatar. He bought a house here for Rs 500. Karmatar is a quaint little village, about 20 km from the district headquarters of Jamtara.
The property later changed hands multiple times, before being acquired in 1974 by the Bihar-Bengali Association, which preserved it as a museum. Over time, a bust was installed, a girls’ school established, and a free homeopathy clinic opened, honouring Vidyasagar’s legacy. Today, the complex is maintained by the Vidyasagar Smriti Raksha Committee.
(Source: GetBengal Article)
Search for Bengali Bungalows in Madhupur
Suman Midya, the manager at Seth Heritage Guest House, told us about more historic Bengali bungalows — Jahaj Bari and Sadhu Sangha. Naturally, we began pestering Kailash Da again.
He said: “There’s nothing there. All gone. Sold off plot by plot.”
Ashutosh Mukherjee’s House
I first asked to see Sir Asutosh Mookerjee’s house, where his younger son, Uma Prasad Mookerjee (famous travel writer) once lived. But nothing remained — just an empty field. Some locals mentioned a Ganga Prasad Bhavan and a mahua tree once stood there, but no trace was found despite asking around.
Sadhu Sangha
Driving further, we suddenly spotted a grand, well-maintained bungalow named Sadhu Sangha (built in 1915). The gate was locked, but the house still stood as a proud symbol of the once-prosperous Bengalis who sought health retreats here. A caretaker finally allowed us inside, though the owner — an elderly lady from Kolkata who visits only during Durga Puja — was absent. This house is in good shape.
Jahaj Bari (Ship House)
Then we started looking for the “Jahaj Bari” (Ship House).
Kailash Da said: “What names are you saying!”
While saying this, he dropped us at a place and said: “Jahaj Bari might be here.”
Searching around, we ended up entering someone’s house (Champa Bhawan). This was also an old house, but it wasn’t a Bengali’s house.
He said: “Go that way, you’ll find it a few houses down.”
After wandering around again, I spotted a lady and asked. She said: “Come, I’ll take you to Jahaj Bari.”
She led us to a place that was almost like a jungle and stopped. She asked us to enter through a broken gate.
We all stared at the huge two-storey derelict palace in front of us. It is the grandest of all!
All its paint had faded, large trees had grown through the walls. But those huge windows, those massive pillars, the long verandas, and above all, the roof and the specially designed railings of that house had already thrown so many questions at us by then.
Coming out of the gate, I saw the house name — Tara Kutir. Along with it, the names of two individuals — S.G. Saha, B.Sc, B.E, C.E and Dr. B.N. Saha, M.B.B.S.
There’s no one to tell the history of this house either. Where would I find their family? How would I know the history?
Most bungalows have turned to dust, or become hotels… and those still standing exist as living history of the affluence and prestige of Bengalis who came here for health recovery. So, do Bengalis ultimately leave everything? From tea gardens in North Bengal to these once-luxurious bungalows in Madhupur — the story seems the same.
What could it have been? What might have happened? What led to this sad state of Bengali-built bungalows from 100 years ago? Where did all those Bengalis go? Where are their families now? Why did they leave everything like this?
With a mind full of questions, we returned to Seth Heritage Bungalow.
Reflections & Stay
Exhausted from a day of searching since 5:30 a.m., and still restless after our overnight train journey, we returned to Seth Heritage Guest House. Dinner was simple, but satisfying.
👉 Car Hire: ₹2000 per day for Madhupur tour with Karmatar.
Other Notes
Nearby, I discovered the Bengal Motion Picture Employees’ Union Guest House, built in 1932.
Other attractions we skipped: Nag Devta Temple, Laopala Park, Indira Gandhi Ground, Gautam Buddha Wildlife Sanctuary (great for birdwatching).
Dining options: Hotel Blue Heaven and Kumar International.
Other Stays in Madhupur:
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Stoneberry Resort
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Kumar International
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Hotel Nilkanth (budget) (not sure if it exists)
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ABTA Holiday Home – ₹600/head/day (📞 8013909366) (not sure if it exists)
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Leela Kamal Guest House – ₹700/head/day (📞 9123284297) (not sure if it exists)
🔗 References:
📍 Day 2: Parasnath Trek & Giridih Local (Sept 6, 2025)
Day 2: Giridih – “If No One Responds to Your Call” and Burmese Cigars
The next morning, as we were still finishing breakfast, Kailash-da arrived again with the car. Today’s plan was to explore Giridih—not just its natural beauty, but also its Bengali heritage. Bags packed, we set out. We left at 9.15 am
Very soon, we realised that we had already missed Bakulia Falls.
Kailash-da reassured us, “We’ll do it on the way back.” A little further, we saw a stunning plateau known locally as Budhai Pahar. The plateau’s surface was full of holes, as if molten lava had burst and left behind those cavities.
Shampa-mashi exclaimed, “Oh, this looks like Hampi!”
Sourabh-da replied, “Absolutely! Just shoot a video, upload it with the caption ‘I’m in Hampi,’ and no one will know the difference.”
Not far from there stood Khandoli Hill. After feasting our eyes on the view, we feasted our stomachs with sugarcane juice, phuchka, and ghugni.
Then we moved on towards the Usri Falls. Do you remember Tagore’s Sahaj Path where he mentioned Usri?
“উস্রি নদীর ঝর্না দেখতে যাব। দিনটা বড়ো বিশ্রী। শুনছ বজ্রের শব্দ? শ্রাবণ মাসের বাদলা। উস্রিতে বান নেমেছে। জলের স্রোত বড়ো দুরন্ত। অবিশ্রান্ত ছুটে চলেছে। অনন্ত, এসো একসঙ্গে যাত্রা করা যাক। আমাদের দু-দিন মাত্র ছুটি। ক্যালেজের ছাত্রেরা গেছে ত্রিবেণী, কেউ বা গেছে আত্রাই। সাঁত্রাগাছির কান্তি মিত্র যাবে আমাদের সঙ্গে উস্রির ঝর্নায়।”
The fall is small, unlike Dassam or Jonha where you must break your knees climbing 500 stairs. But it is wonderfully picturesque.
Next, we entered Giridih town. We asked Kailash-da :
“Where are the houses of Prasanta Chandra Mahalanobis and Jagadish Chandra Bose? And what about Gol Kuthi and Barganda?”
Kailash-da went silent for a while and then said, “Pasanobish’s house I don’t know. But I’ll show you Jagadish Bose’s house.”
Shampa-mashi quickly corrected him, “Not ‘Pasanobish,’ it’s Prasanta Chandra Mahalanobis.”
“Yes yes, that’s it. But look, madam, my deal with you was Budhai, Khandoli, Usri and Parasnath—all for Rs 3,200.”
We understood immediately: don’t push him too far. Best to get our work done tactfully. So I intervened diplomatically:
“Yes, yes, but you also said that if we travel extra, you’d charge Rs 16 per km. We do want to see a bit of Giridih town and also have lunch there. Let us guide you to the locations.”
By then Sourabh-da had handed us an old travel guide - Bhraman-songi. From that we gathered to trace Mahalanobis, we should look for Ramakrishna Mahila College, and to find Jagadish Bose, we must seek Shanti Nibas. With Google Maps set, we started. But we ended up at the wrong Shanti Nibas. I was terrified—our driver might snap. But globe-trotter Sourabh-da calmed me: “Don’t let him know we’ve gone wrong. Leave it to me.” He and Anjan-da stepped out, asked some locals for directions, and returned as if they’d gathered top-secret intelligence.
Soon we reached Ramakrishna Mahila College. Around it, however, only apartments and flats were to be seen—no old houses. “Let’s check inside,” said Sourabh-da.
The security guards looked at us curiously when we asked, “Do you know which one is Mahalanobis’s house?”
“Whose house? First time we’re hearing this. This is a college!”
“Is there anyone old here who might know?”
“No, today is a holiday.”
“Alright then, where’s Barganda?”
“This is New Barganda.”
We pressed: “You’ve really never heard of Prasanta Chandra Mahalanobis?”
Anjan-da began explaining Mahalanobis’s contributions to statistics and planning. Meanwhile, I whispered to Sourabh-da, “Can you believe this? The college principal is a Sanyal—a Bengali—and yet no one here knows Mahalanobis!”
“Where did you see the principal’s name?”
I pointed to a board.
Sourabh-da, eyes gleaming, shouted: “There it is, there it is!” Another board nearby read:
“PROF. P.C. MAHALANOBISH BLOCK; DONATED BY MRS. RANI MAHALANOBISH THROUGH KHANA SEN (Bordi), GIRIDIH, MARCH 1979.”
We turned to the guards with triumphant smiles: “See? You knew nothing… and we found it!”
Their blank faces seemed to ask silently: “And what have you Bengalis done to preserve this history so that we would know?”
We wandered around, spotting an old house with low windows, overhanging balconies, and carved doors—clearly very old. At this point, I argued with Sourabh-da: “It’s not the driver’s fault he knows nothing. Who asks him about this? Tourists only want Budhai and Parasnath. No demand, no supply!”
Just then the driver returned, shouting, “Madam! You can’t end it here. We still have Parasnath, Digambar, Shwetambar temples. Later don’t complain you missed them!”
We obediently got back in the car. Any thought of asking for stops was silenced by Kailash-da’s strict tone.
A little later we spotted a beautiful white bungalow. On its plaque: “Advocate Abhijit Banerjee.” Opposite stood Sir J.C. Bose Girls’ School. A few hundred metres further, Kailash-da stopped: “That’s Jagadish Bose’s house. Don’t be long.”
I whispered to Sourabh-da: “You all go to Bose’s house. I’ll quickly peek into this advocate’s place!”
Good idea, he said.
I went up, took a photo of the Advocate's house—and froze. An elderly gentleman stood on the balcony staring at me. No way forward, no retreat. Putting on my bravest smile, I opened the gate, closed my umbrella, and said, “I’ve come from Kolkata. My team is at JC Bose’s house. I saw your Bengali name and thought maybe you could tell me some history.”
Meanwhile, I was silently praying he wouldn’t call me a trespasser.
The man, speaking Bengali said, “My elder brother’s name is on the plaque. He’s at court now. I’m his brother, Sanjoy Banerjee. And that’s not Bose’s house—it’s Judge Amritlal Mitra’s. And over there is Mahalanobis’s residence. Come in, I’ll tell you everything.”
Oh bliss! A treasure chest of history had just opened. My heart longed to enter. But time was short. Luckily, Sourabh-da also walked in, saving me from my trespass guilt.
Sanjoy Banerjee told us: “Prasanta Chandra Mahalanobis lived here with his wife, Rani. Later it became a college. He had three houses here—Mohua, Shalbani, and Uttara. He lived in Shalbani. In Uttara he set up a medical facility, and Mahua housed the accounts department. There was even an underground room there under Mohua. As a boy, I received a prize from Rani Mahalanobis while Prasanta himself sat in a wheelchair nearby. Even 6 months back the name Mohua was written on the main gate. I feel so sad looking at the new gate.
That wasn’t actually Jagadish Bose’s house… it belonged to Judge Amritlal Mitra. He was related to Bose through family ties. Later, Mitra either sold the house to Bose or gifted it to him—I can’t remember clearly. But what I do remember is that Jagadish Bose died after slipping in a bathroom in that very house. My father, uncles, and others broke down the bathroom door to bring him out. Now there’s hardly anyone left to recount this history. Around here, apart from us, very few Bengali families remain. Most have sold their homes and moved away. The neighbourhood is now filled with Hindi-speaking newcomers. So these stories are unknown to almost everyone.
“Do you want to hear more? You might be getting late… do you know the name Binode Behari Mukherjee?”
Sourabh-da said, “Yes, the famous painter. He was blind.”
“No, he wasn’t born blind… he lost his sight later in life. His elder brother was Banobihari Mukhopadhyay, whose life inspired the character played by Uttam Kumar in the film Agnishwar. Binode Behari’s house was just a few doors down from ours. If you walk a little further, you’ll see a lane—the last house there was his.”
By then, the elder gentleman’s wife, his brother’s wife, and their sister had come out of the house. They invited us warmly, “Please come inside.”
Sourabh-da explained, “We’re really pressed for time. But we’d love to take a short video with you, as a memory. What we’ve learnt from you today is probably not recorded anywhere. So just a little…”
In the middle of this, Kailash-da’s call came. That was it. I knew the moment I picked up, he’d bark, “Aisa kaise chalega, madam!” So I simply didn’t answer. I only promised myself one thing: from the next tour onwards, I will never book the car myself. Because if I do, I’ll have to bear the brunt of all the driver’s scolding as the “primary person.”
We left their home with full hearts. They all walked us to the gate. Dada noted down their phone number. I asked, “How old is this house?”
The elder replied, “Built in 1328 Bengali era… that is, 1921. The house is now 104 years old.” I saw the date etched on the gate’s plaque.
As we were leaving, he called out once more, “Look at these flower pots in our garden. When Amritlal Mitra’s family left, they gave us many valuable things from their house. These pots are from that time. His wife, Madhurika Mitra, and my mother used to exchange food. If my elder brother were here today, you would have heard many more stories.”
Ah yes… that’s life, bound by time. Can one possibly gather 100 years of Bengali history in just an hour?
As I turned back one last time, his sister-in-law called out, “One more thing… Rabindranath Tagore visited Prasanta Mahalanobis’s house here. And legend has it, it was in this very place that he composed ‘If no one responds to your call, then go your own way alone.’”
Oh Lord… why do I sit cooped up in an office? Why wasn’t I blessed with the life of a wanderer, collecting history like this?
We moved on. I told Sourabh-da, “We’ll have to sacrifice lunch today, otherwise time won’t be enough.” He agreed.
Next, we headed towards Jagadish Bose’s house. At the corner, on the right, we saw a gate with a board: “Sir J.C. Bose Memorial District Science Centre, Giridih.” A giant lock hung on the gate. Inside, there were two houses—one modern-looking, the other old. But since we couldn’t get in, we couldn’t be sure. Locals told us it had been shut down for years. No one knew the reason.
Sourabh-da suggested, “Let’s at least see the back of the house.” We went around and, through thick overgrowth, saw a sliver of a white-and-red brick house. We snapped a photo and that was all.
Then, like guilty defendants, we returned to the car. I declared to Kailash-da: “We won’t have lunch today. That will make up for the lost time. And even if we skip Parasnath, we won’t complain.”
He said nothing, but his face showed relief. Gaining courage, I asked, “By the way, where’s Gol Kuthi?”
I could almost hear him muttering under his breath: “Kahan se aa jaate hain, ye sab namoone…”
But aloud he said politely, “I don’t know. I’ll take you to an old Bengali sweet shop. You can ask there. If you’re not having lunch, at least have a little sweet.”
So we reached Durga Mishtanna Bhandar at Kalibari Chowk—established in 1954 by Lakshmi Narayan Ghosh. A tiny sweet shop, but we enjoyed rasgullas and singaras there, and even treated the driver. He then admitted, “I’ve never heard of Gol Kuthi. Let me ask my father.” Even his father didn’t know. At last, perhaps out of pity, Kailash-da said, “I have a few Bengali contacts.” He rang one up and handed the phone to Sourabh-da. The contact confirmed that Gol Kuthi no longer exists; a hotel now stands in its place. Jogendranath Sarkar used to stay there. He is brother of famous Doctor, Dr Nilratan Sarkar. They have marital relatioship with Herambachandra De (City College South was named after him).
With a sigh, we resumed our journey to Parasnath. At Parasnath, we saw the exquisite Digambar and spartarn Setambar temple, and the trekking route to Parasnath hill, before returning to Seth Heritage.
In the evening, the four of us sat on the veranda, gathered around a tea table on four easy chairs. Sourabh-da had brought back Burmese cigars from his recent Myanmar trip. The cigar, thick and wrapped in sal leaves, was such a monster that just lighting it felt like a group project. Standing, sitting, turning the fan off, turning the fan on, fanning with paper—finally, after much drama, the cigar lit. Phew! What a strong puff and what a cloud of smoke!
As we sipped our tea, we reminisced about the day’s adventures. From there, our discussion wandered far and wide—starting with the Naxalite movement and somehow ending at “Why You Should Not Buy a Second Home.”
Now, a few words about Seth Heritage. The current owner is Anjan Seth, but everything is managed by his son, Sourav Seth. The house is 139 years old.
As you enter, you’re welcomed by lush greenery. Then comes the veranda, with its easy chairs. Next is the drawing room, with old chairs, tables, and an almirah filled with antique books. Around it are several bedrooms, followed by a dining room, and finally the backyard kitchen. Each bedroom has an attached bathroom. Both the rooms and the bathrooms have full-length windows. The floors are of typical red oxide, we see in old buildings, the ceilings supported by thick wooden beams, and the walls nearly 10–15 inches thick. At the back, there’s a narrow staircase—barely a foot wide—leading up to the roof. On top, there’s a lovely terrace with more rooms. Altogether, a true heritage bungalow, soaked in old-world charm.
You do find heritage bungalows in West Bengal too—like Bawali Rajbari in Budge Budge or Bari Kothi in Murshidabad. But the problem is, those places couldn’t quite preserve the original feel and are super expensive. They’ve added bars, swimming pools, and modern frills. At Seth Heritage, though, you get a 100-year-old vibe effortlessly, with your eyes wide open. Completely organic.
📍 Day 3: Deoghar (or Baba Baidyanath Dham) (Sept 7, 2025)
🌄 Early Morning (5:00 AM – 7:00 AM)
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Drive from Giridih/Madhupur to Deoghar (~1 hr).
🙏 Morning (7:00 AM – 12:00 PM)
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Baba Baidyanath Jyotirlinga Temple – one of 12 Jyotirlingas of Shiva.
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Nearby: Naulakha Mandir, Satsang Ashram, Tapovan Hills.
🍲 Afternoon (12:00 PM – 4:00 PM)
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Lunch at Hotel Baidyanath or Ishaan Sarovar Portico (good thalis).
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Visit Triyuginarayan Kund & Rikhia Ashram for peaceful closure.
🌆 Evening (4:00 PM – 8:00 PM)
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Return to Madhupur.
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Explore Burdwan Sweets – famous for rosogolla, chamcham, mishti doi.
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Quick snack hunt: rolls, momos, bakery treats at local stalls.
🚉 Late Night
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Depart from Madhupur Junction after 10:25 PM.
🍴 Foodie Highlights
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Madhupur: Burdwan Sweets (must!), Hotel Blue Heaven (multi-cuisine), street momo stalls.
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Giridih: Local dhabas for litti-chokha, Orbitz for Mughlai/Chinese.
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Deoghar: Hotel Baidyanath (classic), street-side jalebi + puri-sabzi for breakfast.
