A few days back I was asked “What is Calcutta really like?”
A question asked by many. Usually, “Calcutta’s a lovely place” suffices for an answer. But that day I stopped to think. And I asked myself what is Calcutta really like. What was so different about Calcutta?
Calcutta is a city still living in its past. A city that I can perhaps relate to for the same reason. The city of art and the city of music and drama. The city of trams and metro. The city of the rickshaw wallas. The city of old buildings, as beautiful as those you may see in old European cities, but broken, dilapidated and forgotten. The city of intellect. The city with the best second-hand book stores. The only city in India where I have seen second-hand CD shops where if you’re lucky you can get some unusual music at half the price. A city where people love to eat, the number of restaurants a proof of it. A city for the young and a city for the old. The city of love! An organization in Calcutta has actually demanded a ‘lovers park’ for couples.
Calcutta is the city where in the monsoons you can see people fishing in the water-logged streets, fish that have come from ponds that have overflowed. Calcutta is the city where the operator of a giant wheel in a big entertainment park will stop the ride because a child is crying. Not only will he stop the giant wheel, but will get the child down and console her before resuming. Calcutta is the city where a taxi driver will take you round and round in circles when you are getting late for an important appointment. He’ll tell you his entire life story and then refuse to take the taxi fare. Calcutta is the city where if a man misbehaves with a girl on a bus, there will be ten other men who will come up to beat him up. Calcutta is the city where a lazy Sunday afternoon is broken by the strains of beautiful music, played by the man selling wooden two-string instruments. A tune from the past. A tune that haunts me still.
That is what Calcutta is really like. It is like a tune that haunts you forever.