A Date with City of Joy

 Caught in the most berserk imagination a human mind can only sparsely realise, may be due to an inquisitive quest that I have always treasured in my heart, I was a bit skeptical and, at the same time, was looking forward with excitement to step into a city of marvels. The need of that hour demanded for a cup of hot tea so that the butterflies in my stomach do a retreat at least for some time. Failing to camouflage my camouflage my SOS call for a cup of hot tea, a benign vendor was smart enough to offer me a cup of “laal cha” (or Lemon tea). Having been a while since I drank the last cup of lemon tea, for I have been staying in the western India and this remain an eastern delicacy, the salacious urge to sip in the tea almost made me snatch away the cup from him. With great satisfaction I sipped in as I looked from my rusty window at a sky that had slowly rebelled against the ghastly darkness making way for the mighty Sun to take over the business of the day. The enlightened skin of the earth was getting brighter as my eyes got trapped at the tip of what has been the city’s perfect snapshot----the Howrah Bridge.

Shivering at the fact that only a distance of few minutes kept me apart from the colossal Howrah railway station, I began to pack my things along with my body and soul as I conjure my senses to explore a city, best known as Calcutta. 

The enigma of Calcutta remains. The epicenter of British raj and its legacy is still languishing which can be seen in a state of despair. That it is not a humdrum place as like many other 21^st century cities, is proved when I saw a wall writing that was an appeal to the British, a desperation that was manifested in those frustrating words “British come back. Slavery is our birth right”. May be the passion for the land has not dried up to the extent that it is believed to be. Still there is someone who is avid about freedom and hope. May be it is not British, may it is a scum that has leeched the society and the time. And it is still going on and on. May be it is a silent outcry against the Neo-Colonialists who have marched in that has threatened the fabric of hitherto untouched hinterland. Welcome to Calcutta where ‘Bhadra Lok’ is trying to explore the panorama of communism for decades.

As soon as I left the bogey and step down, the red army encircled me. Hold on, this is not the land of Dragon. It is all right if I am in a communist state but still this is India, a democracy. But, no they were not red army but army of porters, better known as Coolies. While I floundered my way out, I went straight to the old Howrah station where I kept my baggage in the cloak room with no promise from the attendant that the immense rats will do no harm to them. But then in life you have to take chances. I took the chance and, guess what, pulled it off without a snip later on that day. The next thing that I had in my mind was that I have to rush the Waiting room to freshen up. The hall was full of people as it has so far been. The paucity of restrooms is always felt when you are held at the razors edge. If you pull out, you have to start it all over again. Once you are there inside the restroom, rest assured that others enthusiasts won’t allow you a resting stay. The job is to be done real fast. Somehow I liked the unanimity within the procession in imbibing the anthem which is incidentally one of my favourite as well. They were true to the spirit of 'the Dylan Classic, “Knock, knock, knocking on heavens doors”. This acted as a nice wake up call for the people who were getting ready to plonk themselves into this precarious world of Calcutta. This refreshes the Calcutian spirit among people.

As I moved under the blue sky, the Rabindra setu, better known as Howrah Bridge, was standing tall proudly defining the identity of the city. It promises to take you to the other side of the river Hooghly, to the precarious yet alluring pulp of Calcutta. The sight is spellbinding. Just while you stroll across the road by the side of the bank, there are flurry of petty restaurants. They are trying to sell some of the most delicious and the cheapest breakfast in the world. I suspect the prices that were responsible for the popularity of the coinage. Their ambience even though a big turn off for anyone but the aroma of the smell will make anyone with a huge belly goes berserk. Just taste the “Luchi with Gorom Ghoogny” and you will simply go out of the world. You also get introspection the Calcutian life from a closer view. Now, whenever you pay for food in Calcutta, just make sure that you have adequate change with you because you know the MasterCard would never work there.

Calcutta is a strange city. It has so many strange things that you may start feeling like getting foxed at life. The once celebrated Calcutta Metro always excited me with impossible imaginations in my childhood. So it was something eagerly waiting to hop into. So, I took a metro ride from the Esplande to Shobha Bazaar.  An impetuous excitement flooded my imagination and my senses went all awry with the thrill of that speeding spearheading underground. That was something.