Kolikata

Kolikata has been our home for the last few years and I've had the privilege of knowing her intimately. 

Taking first-timers to *Bicktoria* Memorial has become a regular affair to the extent that if a statue or picture gets replaced there, I would be able to spot the difference.

Bound by cliches we associate cities to monuments and symbols - the Gateway of Mumbai and the phallic Qutub Minar, a case in point. But Kolkata is more than the proud "Bicktoria" or Howrah Bridge or the dirty rundown tram or the swollen yellow cab. The city is probably a sum of all it tiny parts - from the crowded streets of Burra Bazaar to the corner "Mother" house of Saint Theresa, from the road side puchka fellows to the new malls and plexes sprouting in south Kolkata, from the intellect of the coffee house to the rabble in the football ground.

 The energy in the streets and the people during the festival of Durga  Pujo is one-of-its-kind. It is not just a religious celebration of the arrival and stay of the cult goddess, but an acknowledgement of a proud tradition, returning home to the warmth of family and spending time with friends and loved ones in the true expression of bangaliyaana

As air gets nippy in winters, the Bengali Babu disappears behind layers of monkey caps and shawls. Even the gods are not allowed to fight the chilly weather on their own.


Religious fervour exists peacefully along side atheist manifestos. Communist literature is retailed outside Pujo Pandals, along with medallions of fascist revolutionaries keeping the spirit of contradictions alive.  

Would recommend the sound and light show every evening at Victoria. It is neither novel nor visually captivating - but like Kolkata its charm is in its flaws, its old fashioned simplicity and lack of any pretense.

Time moves at the speed of trams, pausing for the lady with a large vegetable bag and the jethu with a black umbrella and folded newspaper. It stops at signals in rundown cobblestone streets, slows down for jaywalkers in the true spirit of culture before commerce.

Shifting from the time-waits-for-no-one-Mumbai across the speed equator to the other axis where waiting-for-one-more-passenger in a share auto in Kolkata is a rule was a rude shock. But the city does grow on you like a bad habit and seeps bloodstream to change your lifestyle too.