company in east india - part VII

Were up early and took a little stroll before getting ready. Prabhat was there on time and drove us back to the station, got our tickets and stepped in. The train was a bit delayed and we enjoyed the Rabindra Sangeet that was being aired on the public address system, while scanning our copies of The Telegraph. The journey back was crisp and the high point was the appearance of a tradition Baul singer he had been preceded by a flautist, both were quite entertaining. In my zest to preserve the memory I even recorded a little bit of the Baul singers’ performance on my rudimentary phone camera. Reach Howrah a little after noon and took a cab towards Park Street, checked with Gujju but he was caught up and could not join us for lunch. Went to flavors and ordered some rice and Thai curry along with sui-mi and soup. It was a fine meal and we walked out with a great deal of satisfaction.

The plan stated that we roam about the streets of Calcutta till about early evening, which is when S would leave for home and I would head on to see the Belur Matt, the ashram which Vivekananda built in the memory of his spiritual guru. S called up a couple of friends to get her basic understanding of the co-ordinates in place and we entered the Park Street metro station. Calcutta boasts of the first Rail Metro in the country and which is in some sense a reflection of that city – the rail network consists of a straight line route spanning from Damdam at one end and Tollygune at the other. We took tickets till Kaalighat (which is how Kolkata got its name, the uncorrupted!) and boarded the train.

It was a swift journey spanning not more than four stations, once out on the street we had to figure our way out a bit. It was the most idyllic of settings, walking the streets of that city in abandon, strolling towards the Kali. As usual the kindness of strangers helped us find our way (in fact one gentlemen who had helped us with the directions, sitting out on the steps of a house, was very much still in that same frame when we were returning back, he asked us if we had managed to located the mandir and we completely ignored his request assuming it to be a random solicitation) and as we neared the usual set of god merchants (that we have gotten accustomed to – from Ajmer and Pushkar to Agra) made an appearance. Completely ignoring them we continued and entered the street just outside that historic temple; it was lined on both sides by double tiered and extremely narrow sweet shops. The double tiering was most unusual, with a fat man crammed below the main shop counter fighting with kadhai full of khoya and vigorously stirring it. We bought some of these pedas from the last of these shops and glanced in through the temple door to get a glimpse of the Kali and moved on.

Once back inside the Metro station S insisted that I buy the return tickets and address the ticket seller in Bengali “Doo to central”, which I did much to our amusement. This ride was a bit more taxing and I got to witness the brasher side of the bhadarlok who made no effort to be courteous or generous when it came to sharing their space (unlike the mumbaikar).

We were now on the college street (near the legendary Presidency College) which was guarded by little second hand book kiosks on both sides spanning the entire length. The coffee house on that street does not serve tea; it’s a complete mess and the waiters no less then the laat sahibs (they once must have served) but that’s not all. The coffee house on that street has a soul and a character and a history; one of those places where I regret the delay of my visit (should have come here when I was still a tobacco smoker). I drank two cupfuls of coffee and shared a plate of butter toast with S, it was supremely refreshing and we stepped out onto the college street to buy some second hand steals! S picked up a copy of Anna Karenina and I found a copy of ‘The theatre of the absurd’ (a book I had almost bought in Mumbai) along with a hard bound edition of ‘Dara Shikoh’ a play written by Gopal Gandhi. Once done shopping S took a cab back home while I proceeded towards Belur Matt.

Took an hour to reach the Matt, it’s a nice serene compound with a long drive way path and is located on the banks of the river Ganga. Trotted along the campus and stood for a long while on the edge, overlooking the river. Then took a path downwards towards the ferry junction, passed an interesting looking Dargah, the stretch was dotted with occasional beggar and jhaalmoori sellers. It was approaching the time of the evening Aarti so I took a chance and entered the main hall, meditated for a while and then witnessed the Aarti followed by some Bhajans and then made a move. And as I had anticipated my shoes were missing, stolen perhaps (first time in my living memory), got a little heart broken and called S who reminded me that I had a pair of Osho’s in my bag. Searched some more then with a heavy heart took out the Osho’s and started the journey back (ate some jhalmoori and drank a khulladful chai) took a cab. Passed over the suspension bridge through a toll bridge and witnessed a typical Calcutta traffic snarl, (which had some five people first discussing then arguing and finally giving up and resuming charge and ramming their vehicles till the lock jam was broken) got off at the junction near the house and walked home!

This was the only evening in the city which I spent at home; this was the only evening I made quite a fool of myself. Gujju was home when I reached and had a nice chatting session with him and aunty told them about the day and learnt that the races were on tomorrow and the passes had been arranged. Then began the line up for the evening, chilled beer paired up with some fried fish which was followed by chicken, interspersed with wafers and concluded by the prawn chips – it was sheer sin, sheer bliss! Me being totally famished hogged to my heart’s delight and by the time dinner was laid my appetite had vanished. To make matters worse aunty had gotten carrot and beans made on my request, Gujju behaved like a complete smart ass and made super fun of

1. my ‘acting’
2. aunty’s supposed naivety (“how could she expect me to enjoy dinner without some mutton?”)

which ended up making me feel quite miserable. It’s very rare to see me waste food, but that night my plate landed up in the kitchen sink with lots of subzi and dal, I was honestly ashamed; but was glad that I did not gulp it down else I would have certainly fallen sick!. The official line is that the prawn chips did me in!