Oh, Calcutta!

As my craft touches the tarmac, and the pilot announces the temperature outside, the sides of my lips turn up in a smile, cause doesn’t matter what time of the year it may be, the clamminess in the air never fails my expectations.

Kolkata…the erstwhile Calcutta, a prosaic city situated by the Ganges, surrounded by long bustling streets amongst the grandeur of the imposing buildings of a bygone era. A City which boasts of beautiful kohl-eyed women and dhoti clad gentlemen. A city which regales in cricket and a cuppa of tea more than an Englishman.

There are some things about Calcutta which cannot be justly described in the few words that my vocabulary boasts of!
It is something beyond the lackadaisical aura about the City. Beyond the idiosyncrasies of the local men and women. Something more than the century old Howrah Bridge or the over-crowded stands in Eden Gardens. Something invisible which binds us all…a thing which is beyond comprehension for an outsider!

The city of many facets. Where the old and new find equal appreciation. Where inequalities exists but not when it comes to politics. Where all you need is 20 bucks for a lavish meal. Where music is not just Jazz…and art is not, only for a niche gathering.

For an Artist it is a city of Myriad colors, which he sees in the faces of the young and old.
For the Foodie it is the city of the scrumptious delights, which he finds in the fish Curry and the mishti doi(s)!
For the Man with a Nikon it is Pandora’s Box, waiting to be unlocked.
For the Bhadrolok, it is the city of never ending adda and chai! Of the age old marxist ideologies or the inane banter of politics over a game of bridge!
For the Historian, it is the city of immeasurable heritage and culture!
For the Intellectual, it is the city of the likes of Amitav Ghose, Jhumpa Lahiri, Amartya Sen.
For the Youth it is the enthralling city with a pace of its own, not too fast …never too slow!

It is oft quoted among wise men that, you need to belong to a City to understand it.
And to appreciate Calcutta you need to fit right in! Whether you live in East Hampton or in New York City, you remain true to Calcutta, to the Music, the FOOD and the never-ending Adda!

The long-winded thoroughfares, the over-zealous natives, the cramped shacks, the imposing British architecture, the kurta clad, jhola carrying, bespectacled, pot smoking youth, the musty smell of the sacred black waters of Hoogly river, the screech of the tires as the unruly bus drivers race against each other, the impending danger to one’s life as one attempts to cross the roads, the weekend shopping crowd at Esplanade, the dhaks during Durga Puja, the frenzied opinions on Sourav Ganguly and the BCCI, the holler of the conductors, “aaste! Ladies”, deserted streets on the frequent Bandh days, the assemblage of people in front of a TV during the cricket season, the intoxicating whiff of Charminar and ittar from the gentleman standing next to you, the sumptuous smell of the roadside stew, the bulbous puchchkas tantalizing one’s palate …
The sights, smells and sounds never ceases to ASTOUND!

Living 2000 miles away from all this, at times makes me yearn dearly for the simple pleasures that my city has to offer.
Watching the sunset at riverside, getting stuck in the Nor’westers, haggling for cinema tickets sold in black, celebrating India’s wins as if it were Diwali, playing cricket on the empty streets on a Bandh day, roaming on Park Street on Saturday evenings, jam sessions of Rabindra Sangeet and Bangla rock! I miss them all!

At times it becomes difficult to justify such a city, when measured up to concrete jungles, cosmopolitan outlooks, plush lifestyles, fast living and high thinking.

But, even merely visualizing Calcutta as one of those highly glossed photographs taken from a sophisticated digital camera in comparison to its original jaded monochromic elegance is like destroying the essence of the city from within.

As I dismount the plane and look around. It has been six months I have been away. I take a deep breathe, I can distinctly smell the rancid odor from the nearby waste disposal site. I smile to my self again, nothing’s changed! I am Home again!