A journey back home.

My trips to Kolkata are like coming home after a tiring day at school. It’s the only place on earth I can just relax in all its true essence. Late mornings, lazy afternoons, eventful evenings and colourful nights which go on till the wee hours are all trademark Kolkata. Four events that stood out were “pan-dal hopping”, dandiya nights, the home of my uncles and aunts when they just began to learn the formal alphabet, and lastly but most importantly the city of ‘cal’.

It was my first ever pan-dal hopping experience. Pandal is pronounced as “Pan” as in the cooking utensil and “Dal” as in the dal in sandal. It basically is a time for wannabes to go bird watch and the rest just go to prove to their neighbours that they have a fancier car/scooter and dress up in their flashiest best. The only reason for this festival is to give West Bengal a much needed break from the bandhs.The only reason I went was because I needed a reason to while away time and also to watch the bird-watchers.

Dandiya nights. Something similar to Himesh’s tandoori nights in his latest blockbuster flop Karzzzz….. It was a culture shock for my “bhabhi” who doesn’t live in India anymore and me as well, we being NCR’s (Non Calcutta Residents). There is no difference between ethnic traditional clothes and almost nude nowadays. I would like to tell everyone that wearing a bindi on the head does not make one traditional. ‘Talli ho gayi” is what the garba-goers groove to and the dandiya sticks are meant to be kept in the back pocket and occasionally swirl them in the air poking fellow groovers. This is the time when all those who aren’t allowed to go pubbing/clubbing come out in full force and large hideous numbers. We were welcomed by drunkards at the entrance and then saw more sophisticated drunkards dislocating all their joints possible, some of which I didn’t even know existed. We then dared to go back for another dandiya night the next night. We encountered overenthusiastic people and puny, short tempered and the most in-effective bouncers there. God have mercy on their souls. Amen.

Home sweet home. My aunt and uncle took me to their childhood home. I was more concerned, shocked and taken aback. The building the size of a bungalow with more than 20 families stuffed in. Mind you all the families are financially stable and from the upper middle class. The room is of the size of a kitchen, and there is grime everywhere. Leaking walls and decaying pillars. Pan-filled courtyards and colour televisions in every room. It was like one big family living in the times of pre-independence. Sadness, grief and empathy filled our hearts to see everyone so happy even though there was only one bathroom they all shared. Inbuilt shops and coconut water vendors lined the streets which were filled with human faeces everywhere. But the only thing that they were living on was hope. It also made me feel a sense of pride as my family worked and earned their way out of there. An “I”opening experience.

And finally the city of “cal” itself. Gloomy mornings with people getting up at 8, bathing at 9, going to work at 10, government employees come home not before 7 and those working in private companies pretend to work till as late as 9 or 10 earliest, gallivant till dinner time while rubbing their exposed bellies and squatting very revealingly. Dangling wires from the times of the British to recently pan stained and peed on sidewalks epitomize Calcutta. Unnecessarily over-crowded streets and phuchka stalls at every street bend. Sultry weather all throughout the year and sweaty people too involved with themselves just make we want to come back to “cal” every year.