While talking to a distant friend (after so long) I was (yet again) reminded the fact that I’ve had the opportunity to stay at so many places in such short period… 7-8 years, 3 places noticeably and inter changeably. My wisdom says people who adapt with different haute couture are pleasant. But what could be an unpleasant stay over a period, turned out to be one of the most riveting experiences. No prize for guessing, it is Kolkata. If you have spent >2 years in the oxford of east and have been in love with each and every moment elapsed why on earth will you even dream of loving an overtly populated, polluted and slothful cal.
It was after I came back to Pune from Cal, that I realized that I missed a lot of things about Calcutta. I missed the then nagging neighbors, the small and narrow street with smell of charcoal emanating from every alcove, the street food, Beethoven’s symphony played at the Minto Park signal, fragrance of bestsellers at oxford book store, the bus/metro/tram ride, the ever shouting bus conductors, the forever cribbing of bongs about Bengal bandhs, traffic, law & order, society rules etc, Christmas celebration, pujo. I used to think that I am never gonna go back to cal, once I move out of here. But now that I get to think about the simple and the concept of life in small packets, so evidently seen in Calcutta, I realize how privileged I was that I had the chance to befriend Calcutta bongs and others.
We live and forget that apart from work and families there are other things we snub. We forget art and literature, quaint paintings, the ever enchanting chords of music, the magic of playing football when it rains and the poetry of Tagore. Calcutta wakes up, works but comes back to its neighbors & friends, dances with friends during Pujo, sings together for a casual antakshari at their society premises, exchange dishes with neighbors, casually visit each other’s place just to say hi, instruct other’s children to become a good citizen, teaches them the importance of kalboisakhi, sings the morning glory with their riyaaj, debates over every issue under the sun and declares bandhs for personal pleasure.
Whether it is the magic of kalboisakhi, pujo, lokhi puja or Christmas; Calcutta looks beautiful. People who hate it for multitude of reasons get used to the finger-licking street-licious food, friendly crowd, the constant cribbing of people, bonhomie of their neighbors, ever bargaining crowd at every corner of street shop to mall, the theatres/plays, book launch, rickety metro ride and celebration of everything which can be happily enjoyed. I missed Kolkata, amidst the sophistry of Pune; eventful and demanding Mumbai; in the void of no nonchalant environment in Delhi.
