So...... Oh! Kolkata
We came to Kolkata a year back. How and why we came to come here, still remains a bit hazy as everything happened so fast. No, it really did. In a time span of about ten days, I went from having a shining career with the PR department of the Chandigarh Administration and two helping hands to doing the cleaning,cooking and looking after my household to scrubbing floors, washing clothes and utensils and cooking meals by myself. Out of the Rajbhavan into Sarobana's bhavan (Sarobana = Landlady).
When the husband was offered the posting alongside a promotion we decided to make the move. I did not give a thought about the ramifications in personal terms. In that sense I now realise that I am not much of a thinking person as it is. I do things and then often sit at side amused by all that happens to me. The only thing I remember thinking is this would mean change.
So Kolkata happened in Nov 2011 after Diwali jubilations in the Sector 8 house to which we had barely moved three months back.
Kolkata or should I say, everything that I read or hear about Kolkata manages to amaze me everyday. I do not yet have a relationship with the city which is often referred to as Calcutta and which I find nicer than the name-in-use.
Why is it called a metro, escapes me, when the only people you find are Bengalis and Marwaris. The third breed that they know are Gujjus and if you are lucky one or two of them might be in the know of Punjabis as well. Everywhere that I have been to in this one year and amongst all the conversation with strangers that I have had the first question has been about my state of origin. The three guesses are hazarded and my answer sends them in to a tizzy. It is as if I have told them about an alien galaxy. A Himachli, they look at me quizzically. You don't look like one, I am told. I have taken that to mean that I don't look like a beauty from Sirmour or a Tibetan from Dharamsala- the two places they seem to know of within Himachal.
There are a few things about Kolkata that I think you would not find anywhere else.
Number one on my this list is the number of men surrounding a gol-gappa thela. I mean I don't think anywhere else on earth would you see MEN, at all hours standing on a puchka stand unabashedly going for plate after another. I am somehow mesmerised by this. I love the fact that this they are not doing this necessarily in the company of women. This they do for themselves and by themselves.
Another wonderful thing is that young girls don't mind being called aunty. How wow is that! Girls don't mind being called aunty, but aunties insist on being called Bhabhi. That bit is kind of weird.
May be Paan ki peek is there God. It is everywhere. From being on the roads to the walls of every building to being on the road divider to all electricity poles, the orange splutter is omnipresent. You can't escape it. Maybe the colour red was a better choice for the town than Didi's favourite whites and blues.
Public places are a mess. No dustbins. No maintenance. Broken seats. If the population explosion had not hit me in the face when I got off a bus at the New Delhi bus stand, it would have hit me here in these public parks with double the intensity.
Kolkata may be an old city but the spirit is young.
It may be a big metro but it still retains the village element.
I don't know if one should pray for a better administration for the city. Though it can definitely use some of that yet it might end up losing the charm of being haphazard.
When the husband was offered the posting alongside a promotion we decided to make the move. I did not give a thought about the ramifications in personal terms. In that sense I now realise that I am not much of a thinking person as it is. I do things and then often sit at side amused by all that happens to me. The only thing I remember thinking is this would mean change.
So Kolkata happened in Nov 2011 after Diwali jubilations in the Sector 8 house to which we had barely moved three months back.
Kolkata or should I say, everything that I read or hear about Kolkata manages to amaze me everyday. I do not yet have a relationship with the city which is often referred to as Calcutta and which I find nicer than the name-in-use.
Why is it called a metro, escapes me, when the only people you find are Bengalis and Marwaris. The third breed that they know are Gujjus and if you are lucky one or two of them might be in the know of Punjabis as well. Everywhere that I have been to in this one year and amongst all the conversation with strangers that I have had the first question has been about my state of origin. The three guesses are hazarded and my answer sends them in to a tizzy. It is as if I have told them about an alien galaxy. A Himachli, they look at me quizzically. You don't look like one, I am told. I have taken that to mean that I don't look like a beauty from Sirmour or a Tibetan from Dharamsala- the two places they seem to know of within Himachal.
There are a few things about Kolkata that I think you would not find anywhere else.
Number one on my this list is the number of men surrounding a gol-gappa thela. I mean I don't think anywhere else on earth would you see MEN, at all hours standing on a puchka stand unabashedly going for plate after another. I am somehow mesmerised by this. I love the fact that this they are not doing this necessarily in the company of women. This they do for themselves and by themselves.
Another wonderful thing is that young girls don't mind being called aunty. How wow is that! Girls don't mind being called aunty, but aunties insist on being called Bhabhi. That bit is kind of weird.
May be Paan ki peek is there God. It is everywhere. From being on the roads to the walls of every building to being on the road divider to all electricity poles, the orange splutter is omnipresent. You can't escape it. Maybe the colour red was a better choice for the town than Didi's favourite whites and blues.
Public places are a mess. No dustbins. No maintenance. Broken seats. If the population explosion had not hit me in the face when I got off a bus at the New Delhi bus stand, it would have hit me here in these public parks with double the intensity.
Kolkata may be an old city but the spirit is young.
It may be a big metro but it still retains the village element.
I don't know if one should pray for a better administration for the city. Though it can definitely use some of that yet it might end up losing the charm of being haphazard.
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