"Somehow, the conversation mentioned your name. And, someone asked if I knew you. Looking away I thought of all the times we had together; sharing laughter, tears, jokes and tons more. And then, without explanation you were gone. I looked to where they were waiting for an answer, and then said softly, 'Once...I thought I did.'"

~Louise Sybing

Was in Cal over the weekend. And went through those familiar rushes of nostalgia for a city I surprisingly know very little about. Was tempted to write, but frankly had no time. So I decided to post a letter I wrote during my last trip - when I was there for 15 odd days for my sister's wedding. Addressee was RV. Letter edited and republished with appropriate permissions.

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Calcutta,

January 8, 2005

Spent most of the day trying to get lost in the streets of Calcutta. However, after a few attempts, I realized that I was too much a townsfolk to get lost in any city in the world, let alone in one which speaks my mother tongue. The masterstroke of the day must be my fast asleep act- through which I managed to lose most of my extended family. By the time I rolled out of bed, everyone except Dad, had left for various things. True all the cars had gone too, but what the heck- I wouldn’t want to go look for parking in a place like this. Dad insisted that we have lunch together, so we went to Esplanade, to have Biryani at the legendary Aminia restaurant. Some time two years back a colleague of mine, on a visit to Cal had messaged from this very joint stating that he was having Biryani. Today, I returned the favour. With much glee, I might add since the hourly market updates that I receive by text message seemed to indicate a fairly brutal day at work.

Lunch out of the way, I made sure that I was left to myself. Packed off Dad to the hotel and instantly made off to pacing up and down Esplanade. Lit a cigarette, my first of the day, and set about soaking in Calcutta. As nicotine delivers new energy I realize that Esplanade is very crowded at this time of the day, and probably at most. Since bumping in to smelly people is not to my personal taste, I decided to move to better locations. Decided to move to Park Street- which over the last two days, I have realized is much more to my liking. One annoying thing about this city is that traffic is far nosier than anywhere else. This is part because it is disorderly and hence people have to honk more, and the second that most forms of transport- public and private are quite antiquated and hence much noisier. Buses with clanging tinplate bodies, ambassadors dating back to the sixties- honking their crazy analog horns, hand drawn rickshaws, with their smart ringing bells and just a plethora of hugely amplified other city noises. A bit too noisy, a bit too distracting for my liking on a vacation of sorts.
The taxi drive to Park Street is interesting. The cab driver has figured that I am new to the city. May be it is the way I am looking at the mass of people or may be its just that I chose to take the cab from the wrong side of the road. He swerves left after a U-turn and instantly launches into a "See my City" spiel- ending quite sordidly. He stops the car just ahead of the Park Hotel, where a pretty girl is standing on the footpath. He tells me that the woman is soliciting and then without waiting for me to react, starts to broker a deal. Thankfully, I have calculated the exact fare and tender the cash, quite enjoying the conversation between the two. The girl is pretty, and evidently available. But I am in no mood and she goes away swearing at the cabbie, seeing that I have already exited the cab and walked away from the other side.
After a bit of walking up and then down, since I am unable to cross the road right away, I reach the other side. I sit at the Barista, opposite the Park and order my usual- a cup of tea. I seat myself next to the pavement and watch the world go by in the streets of Calcutta. Make a few calls and then my eyes fall on that girl- still standing there. Quite a pretty girl, I must admit. And a very foul mouth to that. Then leave the place and head to Dalhousie. Park Street which had been conveniently one way, till then, suddenly turns the tide and now is going the opposite direction. So I now walk a bit in the general direction of Dalhousie and then take a cab as soon the traffic is aligned with my desired direction. Caught up with Rungta by design (pleasant) and Ajay (by accident- not so much, though very cordial).
Running into Ajay by surprise gave me a glimpse of how it can be working in Calcutta. I had actually stopped by at a restaurant near the main office for a nibble and there I saw him sitting with another person, deeply engrossed in a cricket match, least concerned about the food. I walked across and then he told me that it was his second lunch of the day, just to watch a bit of the match. The guy across the table was the manager of the main branch. He too seemed least perturbed by the fact that any order took forever to execute and that it just happened to be a Monday afternoon. In the midst of the shouting and yelling, the person and Ajay both seemed to lament the fact their employer had yet again started to sack people, which incidentally, did not seem to have any impact on how they chose to spend their Monday afternoon. Suddenly, in a moment of awe inspiration, the person across the table, waved to the waiter and asked for the bill. Ajay said that he’d been out for lunch for the last two hours and well, it was time to head to work. My watch reads 4:15PM.
After this I decided to head back to Park Street. I window-shop for a bit before entering the Oxford bookstore that you are so fond of. The first thing that strikes me is the heady fragrance of incense and damp wood. What would I do if you weren’t around to show the way. Here I notice a very beautiful Bengali lady with a foreigner. She stands in front of a stack of Lonely Planet, obviously deciding on the best one for him. The tourist has long hair and is very unkempt, the lady is very good looking and extremely well dressed. Quite an odd couple. I step out and start to walk down the road. The pretty girl of the morning has now disappeared, hopefully meaningfully. I go back to the Barista across the road and watch the world go by over Darjeeling tea and newspapers. Tia calls. Informs that she is in Calcutta tomorrow. Would like to catch up. I say sure. It is amazing how this girl and I have gotten friendly only after campus, in spite of never having lived in the same city. People read between the lines and some times I do too, but what the heck, life is worth a lot more.
It is getting dark outside and I realize that I am not yet that familiar with the bearings of the road after night falls. So decide to step out and head home. Stop at Musicworld- a largish shop just next to Flurry’s. One thing about Calcutta is that absolutely not one shop attendant tries to come forward to help or question otherwise. Works quite well with me. I want to go into Flurry’s but it is just not the sitting alone kind of place. From the outside, I can make out that even the smallest table seats four. So I decided to just walk by and stop by later when I am with some more people. There is no dearth of people on this trip. I guess the more difficult thing is in losing them.
Later at night I sat down for dinner with my extended family. I realized, and this is some thing I think you should know, that my extended family is really quite rustic. Very vocal about their views, very suburban in their outlook on most things. And very, very stubborn. In their company my Dad, I notice wears a completely different hat. He is almost unrecognizable in their midst- speaking their dialect and is just a little noisier than usual. For a minute the first thought that occurs to me is that if I were to introduce you to this gathering, what would the reactions be like- on both sides. Probably, you would be politely quiet, and they a bit too lost for words. I realize that even I don’t really feel completely at ease here. Then I realized that the possibility was one in a billion and very, very avoidable, to really start thinking about. Another thing about my extended family that strikes me is how my parents go on and on about how we are so close and how I must be really fond of my cousins. Now, much as I appreciate the fact that I have first cousins who I am supposed to be fond of, I also find that the fondness part is not that easy. The two who are constantly around are about ten years younger to me. This is the first time I have seen them in the last twelve years and there is no way that I can see any thing of common interest to us. The two who are not, are out of this place most of the time on their own pursuits. I just can’t see how my parents can expect me to be fond of people of whom I have very bleak, if any recollections. May be they are right, but what really gets my goat is the fact that they keep harping about it from time to time. They keep saying it is so great that we are so close to each other and it makes me sick. Some times I just feel like telling them to shut up but just endure it, thinking that it’s the last time. It is nauseatingly sweet- this whole family drama and I really regret that I am here this early. I just don’t get it- how can my parents expect me-me of all people to feel chummy with someone I haven’t seen and only randomly spoken to in the last twelve years. Sometimes, through one of these ordeals, I just feel like telling everyone "GET REAL- IT’S THE TWENTY FIRST CENTURY- IMMEDIATE FAMILY AS A CONCEPT IS THREATENED- WHY ARE YOU GLOATING ABOUT SOMETHING THAT AT BEST IS A MUSEUM ANTIQUE AND IN ALL LIKELIHOOD DOESN’T EVEN EXIST ANYMORE." I have the choicest words available. I am sure you can imagine all the sarcastic statements just brewing inside me, waiting to explode. Whenever I am in here I am reminded of the wonderful life I have, alone, in Bombay. And I curse myself for inflicting this upon myself.
Otherwise everything is quite okay. Don’t worry- I am behaving myself quite well- as per your instructions. There are things that I disagree with. I mean things which concern the marriage. (The ""You'll be next"s by the dozen!!!) I don’t quite agree with my Dad- and hate Mom for putting me in this situation. But because of all the things that she (and you) has told me prior to my coming here, I decide to shut up and let Dad do things his way. I know there are so many things that I would have done differently. But I think of my Mom (and you) and what she’s told and then think that "What the hell, if I ever get married, I’ll get to do it my way in any case." May be you should be here- you'd be impressed.

Lastly, I read a poem somewhere... it is for you-

When I was young

I saw colour in everything

I grew up one evening

When I discovered that colour on Butterfly's wings

comes off when you rub too hard.

love, j