Part 11: A day in Calcutta.

August 17th 2011

The train reached Howrah station in the most slow and lethargic movements as if she had run out of all her steam to transfer us here. But thankfully she made it to the end. It was about half past five. We moved out of the dimly lit station and asked for the Yatri Niwas. It was just next door and on enquiry we came to knew that passengers possessing a valid ticket can stay at the place for 48 hours. I only needed to stay twenty four hours so my problem was solved! They could keep all the remaining hours with them, ha ha ha, coz tomorrow morning I would be off in my Duronto train to Pune. Though the trip had been absolute fun it had been equally unpredictable and I was happy to go to the comforts and routine of home. Sudha came up with me to see the place. At an government run place one never knows what to expect. We inspected the room which was spic and span but somehow it gave me the ageing impression. I don't know why it was so grey, everything from the wall paint to the bedsheets to the washroom tiles. We saw a door at the other end of the room and opening came upon the stupendous sight of the Ganges. I know this river is called Hooghly and actually is a tributary of the Ganges but it's sheer size makes me call it the Ganges itself. The balcony had the famous Howrah bridge on it's left, the Ganges surging ahead and a street full of yellow taxis below.

 It was so soothing to watch that slow flow of taxis where they brought passengers from maybe different parts of Calcutta and dropped them inturn to again form a line to pick up passengers for some other part of Calcutta. I came out of my reverie and said goodbyes to Sudha. She was heading to her cousin's place somewhere south. We made a tentative plan to meet around four at Kalighat, but I was to keep her informed during the day how I'm progressing on my plan. I had a nice bath and refreshed; I was ready for  'a day in Calcutta.'
In accordance with yesterday's discussion  I had decided to start the day at Flury's. It's a cafe from the days of the British. As it is also mentioned in my favourite book by Vikram Seth I headed straight for it. It was not yet quarter past seven but Sudha had assured me it is a famous breakfast haunt so it would be open by the time I reach there. So heading out I hailed the yellowest taxi in sight and we started speeding towards Calcutta. The Howrah station in Howrah being on one side and Calcutta on the other with the Ganges flowing in between. The two sides are connected by the pre-independence Howrah bridge, a single span bridge. Because of this engineering feat it is quite famous all over India still. I too took part in this feat and our taxi crossed over to the official Calcutta. As always I came across an extremely talkative taxi driver. And we talked about everything from my hometown Pune to his hometown Dhanbad. He then informed me that I was lucky to come today as the weather was much better as it had rained earlier in the week. The guy knew everything in the world except the address I wanted to go to-the Park Street Post office. My LP map was my guide today and it showed Flury's diagonally opposite the Post Office. So we had a nice ride around the leafy lanes and asking around finally he dropped me there. Now the thing I've always noted with LP maps is if I follow it I end up in the wrong directions. I wonder if they are mirror images of the original. Here too as I started following it I sensed something wrong. I asked a lady and she said I was going in the wrong direction (as usual!) and she would walk me there as it was on her way. We started talking and she told me that she worked at an airlines office nearby. By the time I narrated a brief account of the trip we had come to a square and she pointed the pink 'Flury's board on the other side. She wished me a nice day in Calcutta and I proceeded forward.

Thank god the place was open, though just. I entered the place and looked around to savour the atmosphere. There is  a patisserie counter  ahead just as you enter and the sit down restaurant on the left. I turned left and settled into a corner table. The waiter came along and brought the pink menu card. That colour itself was so cute, who wouldn't want to see it first thing in the morning. Anyways I selected some cheese and tomato croissant and cappuccino. And as the waiter turned and left to bring my order I took out a camera to capture the table setting. As a memory. In a while a gentleman came and the waiter welcomed him with a smile. He ordered his usual breakfast,must be some local patron. I was wondering what this 'usual' must be but by the time I was done with my yummy and choicest breakfast in a while and it was time for next destination.
The doorman pointed me in the direction of Victoria Memorial and I moved ahead. Turning left, right I wandered on to the main road. This was lined by old derelict structures, mostly office buildings. The place was abuzz with office goers and it wasn't even half past eight yet. Maybe here in the eastern part of India this is their way of daylight saving in the absence of different time zones in a huge country like India. After a while huge open spaces opened up on my right. These were the famous 'maidans'- central open spaces of Calcutta, still surviving from the British era. I moved ahead, after a while the Victoria Memorial came into view.

The structure was built to welcome Queen Victoria on her maiden visit to India and is an example of quintessentially Victorian architecture. The placed looked quite serene with it's surrounding green vista. I payed my customary ticket money to the Archeological Survey of India which it uses for the upkeep of these structures and sometimes add extremely ugly add ons to these places. The ticket vendor here was the only rude person I came across in Calcutta. Ignoring him I entered the place. There were many morning walkers inside, probably this is the Lodhi Gardens of Calcutta. After encircling the place I thought of seeing the museum it houses but it only opened at ten. So I went around and sat in peace to admire the structure from afar. It had become overcast by then and the whole place looked dream like under the diffused sun rays. As expected it started raining, the reflection of the memorial in the water body in front of it was sheer beauty. I consulted my map and the next destination was the Eden Gardens, India's biggest cricket stadium.

 

Whichever city I visit, I always make it a point to visit and click a snap of it's cricket stadium. For my mum. Yes,she's a cricket buff and always loves those pictures. And this was like the Mecca of Cricket. Now encircling the maidans I was walking back towards the city center. This was a pleasant walk to start with, under the shade of ancient tree canopies, yellow trams passing bye, the greens of the maidans sprinkled with a few people. But as time passed the pleasant walk stretched a bit too long. And there wasn't anyone other than me walking on the path. Cars were zooming past giving me strange stares. The map pointed to a point not too far but this was getting longer and longer and it wasn't that I was wearing trekking shoes. After a while I could spot the stadium but it was on the other side with a huge open space inbetween. After a while I finally reached it. The walk was worth it when I saw a picture of Rahul Dravid, my favourite cricketer.

I did what I had come to do i.e clicked some pictures. Now if I walked straight ahead I was to reach the Dalhousie/ BBD Baghdad square. It is the administrative head quarters since the British times. Now the road was lined with impressive Colonial structures all housing one or the other government offices. This another long walk culminated at the famous Writer's building which now houses the State Secretariat and I envision it with the Chief Minister, Mamta Banerjee. The place had a sprinkling of cops here and there. Here, in West Bengal the cops wear white instead of the customary Khaki all over India and it is a bit difficult to envision them as the police. I went to one of them and enquired if I could take a picture of the building. It is better to ask before clicking these days. As it is I could imagine the communist prison dungeons of Russia from different novels and movies, which must be the case here too as it was ruled by the Communist regime before Ms. Banerjee. The cop gave me a look over, thought for a while and said why not? He even suggested to click from the traffic island for a better frame. Happy, I clicked and crossed over to the other side of the square.

 

 Now I was moving towards the famous India Coffee House and the College street. I came across the State Tourism office and popped in.
The place was ancient. There were desks and chairs lined one after the other straight out of a 70's movie. I only wanted to enquire about the ferry's route and what all places I could touch if I take one. Sudha wasn't upto date on this and had suggested I ask some locals around. As I proposed my question the person attending to me passed it on the guy on the next desk. He inturn passed it on to the next desk. These Chinese whispers ended at a grey haired Official. He informed me that the ferries were available at the moment only between a ghat near the Esplanade to the other side of the Ganges,near the Howrah Station. This wasn't gud news as I could cover even lesser places if I had to travel by road. I thanked them and left after collecting some brochures. I noticed that the state tourism had some interesting trips to places like Sundarbans and even a package at the times of Durga Puja, the major festival here.
Now I had to consult my map quite often because the places had started to get confusing. There were too many narrow lanes which were at points where they were not supposed to be. Atleast according to my map. Now the sun too had come out and it was humid too. I walked along these lanes, crossed over to the other sides still the coffee house wasn't in sight. Finally I enquired at a shop but the shopkeeper was conversant only in Bengali. People in these parts aren't too fond of using Hindi, the national language. And even if they do try it is quite funny and its difficult to keep a straight face in front of them. I took a deep breath and again tried orienting myself with the help of the map, my dearest companion today. I got an inkling of the direction and only after a few meters at a small crossing, there it was- marked by a shiny steel plaque. The India Coffee House. This is one of the cafe not famous for it's coffee or snacks as much as being the place where students in the 70's discussed and brought forward new 'isms'. Once the concepts discussed here used to gather followers all over India. This was like the birth place of revolutionary thoughts of the youth then. After a while many 'India Coffee Houses' cropped up across the country, I think there's one in Delhi and one in some place in Kerala. I entered the place to taste the coffee but without any companion to brainstorm on any issue or 'ism'. There were high chairs and tables around and a self service counter in the front. I ordered a coffee and took some much needed rest after walking on since morning. But now as I looked around this place didn't look like the Coffee House I had seen in a food and travel programme on T.V. That place was much big and there was seating even on first floor where those ceiling fans were hung from double-height ceiling. This was some different place! I think I had goofed up! Well nothing could be done now. I looked around from my high chair and sipped the coffee. Just then my phone started ringing and it was Nivedita. I had met the Roy Chowdharys on a trip to Srilanka the previous year. We all had had fun on the Cook's tour and I was especially fond of their son Aditya. I had noted on the trip that at twelve itself he had developed his own thoughts and opinions on a humanitarian issue we had witnessed in Lanka. So I had informed Nivedita earlier about my trip and she had called to fix a time to meet. When I described my plan for the day she suggested I should meet them for dinner. We planned for around six in the evening as I thought then I could have around two hours with Sudha too. We decided to meet at a place called 'dakshinapan', a shopping centre in the south of the city. This place was down south than Kalighat where I was meeting Sudha so I patted myself for the smart thinking. Finishing the coffee I asked directions to the College Street.
I turned left as instructed and again started to walk. Again this turned out to be an extremely long walk, was I going to spend the day walking? Now the street was lined with kiosks full of books on both sides. Yes this   definitely looked the way I had pictured it after reading it's description. Two of my favourite literary characters Lata and Amit browse for books here selecting a few classics. But as I looked closely these were more of academic books. Now I went from one stall to another inspecting them but they were either law, medicine, engineering, or some competitive exam books. I had specially come here to buy a classic, as a memory of Lata and Amit. The place was abuzz with so many people that it was difficult to move around. I've heard there are many educational institutions on this road, hence this rush, maybe! After maybe looking around for atleast an quarter of an hour I came across a place selling secondhand paper backs. I usually don't go for them for issues of hygiene but here they were going to be a very special memorabilia. There were a few Sidney Sheldons and Daniel Steeles. That type of books. I spotted some Christies in between but they were all the one's I had already read. Finally I came across this book by Eric Newby a compilation of essays on travels, looked quite interesting. I immediately bought it. The next plan of action was to take a ferry ride on the Ganges.

I never miss out on a plan to be on a different element if I could. So I asked around for a tram-stop. Might as well try it till I was in Central Calcutta. Now, these tram stops are extremely difficult to spot, they are these invisible spots where all locals gather and make it a 'stop', I guess.  A girl pointed me to one and I waited to immediately catch one going to Esplanade. Oh wow, the ticket of the tram was so cute. It is a very thin strip of paper like the one's coming out of a shredder. I have no idea what was written on it but I've saved it till date. The tram was now moving back all the way on the route I had walked and I was looking at everything at a very different pace. And I liked it. What an amazing way to look at the world around, such a leisurely pace. All the buzz and activity now looked so interesting to look at, I wanted this tram ride to just go on. I could have sat there for the whole day and looked at people going about their lives. The tram came to a stop at it's final station, the Esplanade. The conductor told me to hop on a bus to the ferry terminus. And I followed his advice.
The ferry terminal wasn't what I expected. One has to go through narrow paths,coming out at an ancient ticket window. I bought a ticket for the Howrah station on the opposite side. This was a chance to view the Howrah Bridge in all it's glory and yes even click some pics. I was planning to take the same ferry back here. I hopped on and the ferry started. All the passengers were locals travelling on purpose. I clicked the Howrah Bridge to my content. This ferry instead of crossing the river was travelling parallel to the edge. The next stop to be on the same side probably so in a moment I decided to alight here as I had already seen the Howrah Bridge and I could save precious time. But as I was getting off,  the whole ferry was looking at me as if what a weird creature. Probably as I was getting off here at the wrong stop. Well I couldn't explain it to them all. I made my way towards the road. There was an old gentleman standing on the road. He was exactly like I  would have imagined a Bengali gentleman through descriptions in books and depictions in films. I asked him about the place from where I could get a bus for Dakshineswar. He immediately told me that it would be on the otherside of the block. I had gathered by now that I was somewhere near the Writer's building, a place I had passed bye in the morning. The old gentleman thought for a minute and then said to follow him. Errr.. I am very trusting type but still I followed him hesitantly. We crossed the roads, passed on through footpaths offering food to all types of office goers. Omg and suddenly I realised it was past one and I was hungry but now there was no time to eat. We passed on and came to the other side, here he stopped a bus. I couldn't see a bus stop anywhere around but the bus stopped on this guy's one shout. He asked the conductor something in Bengali, I think it was if the bus would go all the way to Dakshineswar. I boarded the maroon bus, somewhere between a bus and a mini bus. The gentleman bade me goodbye and I was struck by the person's selfless act. This is what I like about travelling in India, absolute strangers help you out without any selfish motive. The bus was full and I got the only seat in the front row. The best seat. I realised it after a while when the bus took to the maximum speed. The bus started swerving through the crazy traffic and I wanted to hoot aloud. It was super fun, like some mad ride in the fun fair. But I controlled myself, already half of Calcutta must be thinking of me as a mad girl. And there was no need to add to that numbers. This bus zoomed it's way through markets then residential areas, and markets again. Soon the busy modern metropolis surroundings started to change into actually a small town dusty streets. All in a sepia tone. We moved through winding roads with derelict houses embanking them all encompassing a sleepy neighbourhood. The bus stopped near a bridge, the last stop. I was pointed towards a lane taking me towards the Dakhshineswar temple. I reached the premises after a short walk flanked by the usual stalls selling everything from miniatures of the residing deity to garish showpieces to imitation jewellery to refreshments. The place was buzzing with people even on a weekday afternoon. I roamed around to get an idea of the place. The premise is towered by the Kali maa temple, an aggressive incarnation of Parvati, the consort of Shiva. This is where the well known mystic Ramkrishna Paramhansa. He had had his divine vision here and since then the place is flocked by pilgrims and people in spiritual quest. Besides he was also the guru of Swami Vivekananda, the nineteenth century reformist and monk. I was here too because my mother is an admirer of these teacher-student pair and their philosophy. This is actually a reason why I have such a long list of places to visit, because I travel not only for myself but for my mom, for my friends, for the literary characters and everyone else! At the entrance of the temple I came to knew that it opens only at half past three. So I would have to wait here for another half an hour to be able to go inside the sanctum sanctorum. So I retraced my steps to the bathing ghats along the river. The place was full of activity. People were taking dips, some giving offerings, and some kids just playing around with their parents keeping an eye on them. After sometime I made way to a museum in the premises. Ramkrishna Paramhansa's everyday artefacts are preserved here. By now it was time for the temple doors to open and I took my place in the queue.

After the darshan I realised that it was already quarter to four, and how in the world I'm going to reach the Kalighat at four! I called up Sudha and brought her upto date with the situation. She suggested I should directly start for Dakhshinapan as I would just have time to reach there by six. So I came back to the place where I had alighted while coming and quickly took a bus back for Calcutta. Again I got a seat parallel to the driver and why would I complain, I had the best seat in the house. And I was ready to enjoy a very very long drive through Calcutta as my map informed. I was currently at the northernmost point of Calcutta and had to go very very south. The road we were travelling was not the one taken in the noon. I had read in the LP that there is a queer practise here in Calcutta where roads turn into one ways for a particular time of the day. And then the traffic starts running the other day. What fun! I didn't witness this myself but the bus ride was enough. Though this time it was moving at a very decent, but because of the crawling traffic around. The thing I noticed on this slow ride- how poverty was extremely visible here. The scenes play out here everywhere in front of everyone's face. This is not to dismiss poverty from other cities in India but something is different here. Maybe the simplicity of even the people above poverty line ; all adds to the effect. I wondered how much of the communist principles have seeped into the psyche of the public in the thirty odd years of their rule. West Bengal along with Kerala are the states where communist ideology seeds were sown and even took a life of it's own.
This plant then took the forms of elected governments and then went on to rule for substantial periods for their ideologies to seep in. Was all this simplicity and an aversion to capitalist display of wealth coming from that legacy? There were old, derelict structures adding to the effect like some old leftover props on a stage where the actors were definitely on a different tune than the scenes played out anywhere else in India. I really could only speculate on the reasons behind this in the absence of intimate knowledge of the region.
Oye! It was past five and I was living on breakfast till now! That is why these philosophical musings. In all this running about I had skipped lunch and it wasn't going too well with me. I was passing the Sealdeh station now where Sudha and I had boarded the train on the first day of our trip. It now seemed all ages back. I called up Nivedita and updated her with my current location and she was of the opinion that I wouldn't reach Dakhshinapan till atleast quarter past six. And truly the bus was literally crawling now. We were passing the central Calcutta and it was showing. In a while I got down at some market place near the Kalighat. This supposed to be the textile shopping haven. The place had already started to buzz with all the shopping for Durga Puja, Bengal's biggest festival still a month away. Here I consulted my map and my next destination was somewhere outside the map!
This happens so many times with me. Roaming about in a city whether it's London, or Amsterdam I remember going out of the map. Evi, a friend of mine had gone crazy in Amsterdam when she realised we had walked and walked our way out of the maps. She had absolutely refused to go ahead even one step. As I smiled back on that memory I realised the best bet would be to take an autorikshaw to the place. So I stopped at a bus stop to wait but to no avail. There were many people standing there and all with a calmness with the knowledge of where they have to go and how they are going to get there. I was the only one on the verge of panic of the unknown. I so envied them. After a while a lady next to me told me taking a bus would be easier and I followed her advice. Now she told me to get down just past the flyover, she didn't mention there would be more than one! I got down at the wrong one! God would the quota of walking on this day never end? I know I had greedily lapped up everything to see but now I was so very tired after almost twelve hours of being on the move. And I wondered why does this never happen to anyone? People always get down at the right places and are never stranded in the middle of the way. I just gathered all my remaining stamina together and started walking in the direction of my destination.
After a walk of about ten minutes I came to this place, Dakhshinapan. It was now half past six and I called up Nivedita. She was already there and we met in the central open space. She was there with her office colleague, a lady who immediately made a positive impression on me. She was so quintessentially Bengali, dignified and sweet too. Nivedita was addressing her as 'didi' so I too did the same. We started to move towards the shops. The place is full of different State government's textile enterprises. I had to pick up a gift for my mum and as we entered the shops I had already started feeling good. As it is shopping is pleasure but picking up something for others is absolutely delightful.
After we finished our shopping there was a suggestion of tea and we moved towards an auditorium next door where they were serving tea outside. I wandered around to see the posters of some play based on the Nobel laureate Rabindranath's play. I think they were celebrating his 150th birth anniversary at that time. We had some nice refreshing tea and then moved to a temporary handicrafts exhibition where we shared a chaat, a salt and sweet savoury. Ohh this tasted better than it was and  it was heaven, all because of my hunger. By this time bhaiyya and Aditya were on their way to pick us up on our way for dinner.
We persuaded didi to come with us and it was fun all the way. Again I enjoyed my conversation with Aditya, so clear in his thoughts as always. We all chose our dinner from the menu and relaxed for nice, relaxed conversation bouncing from Bhutan to the local flavours and just about everything. I wanted to taste one of the many famous sweets of Bengal and we skipped dessert and moved out to a famous sweet shop. I had 'mishti doi' , a kind of sweet yoghurt served here in clay bowls. Wow, it was amazing but by now I had started feeling drowsy. I tried to persuade the Roy Chowdharys to not to come all the way to Howrah to drop me as they live down south and it would be really out of the way for them. They are too kind for that and came all the way. I actually appreciate it more than any usual situation as I was so extremely tired then. I bade my goodbye and said thanks for a enjoyable evening.

Now as I came up to my room I had energy to just about reach the bed and drop off to sleep. No thoughts, no reflections, just heavenly deep sleep.