Kolkata Calcutta

Kolkata (Calcutta) is a city which has always intrigued me. Not so often seen in the global news now with the two other major cities of India taking the headlines Mumbai, capital of Bollywood and Delhi, the political capital, Kolkata was once the capital during the Raj years. And the home town of my good friend Partho Bhattacharya from London.

I arrived in Kolkata on a delayed train from Hyderabad in central India – a mere 28 hours in the making, with a family of 5 adults doting over a 9month old who knew exactly how to play to her audience. I had taken refuge in the upper berth and taken to reading, sleeping and dreaming up some fantastical business ideas to kill time. Sudipto, my fellow 3AC mate, helped me find a government taxi to town to what seemed like the last room on a Saturday night in the LP. As we stood in the orderly queue for taxi’s a little girl asked my name. When I shook her hand “hello” she turned my hand over and kissed it…seriously what a sweeter way to be welcomed to a new city. Later that night after being deposited outside my hotel by the taxi, Sudipto kindly called to see I was settled ok. With a Bollywood film set in Queenstown and a hot chai I really was very much at home - Indian style.

What I had been prepared for when coming to Kolkata was the heat. I had thought coming north might be a little cooler but the continued onslaught of heat was starting to get the better of me. The expensive hotel was to come in handy to while away the daytime hours in air conditioning and to conserve my energy.

I started out my four day visit being met by three underwear clad street children who all hugged my waist. I couldn’t help but hug them back. But when the gesture was not released I started to panic on the quiet Sunday streets, right on queue a local man came and shooed them off me. I am obviously very aware of the immense poverty in India. But children need love and damn that book “Mother Tina” which I keep quoting on this adventure I just can’t ignore the fact we must always show humanity, acknowledge a hello and smile politely when a language builds a barrier. I have given away few rupees, except to collection boxes but I have given plenty of hello’s, handshakes, photos and smiles.

Monuments & Museums

My first pit stop was the National Indian Museum, a disappointing national monument which celebrated the physical more than the historical. I learnt nothing of the people or the culture on my visit but anyone interested in the rocks, fossils or photocopies of coins (coins currently all under restoration it seems) this is your museum. They had a small room dedicated to Egyptology with a mummy, which took me back to my time in Egypt and the wonderful time I had seeing the very places referred to in the exhibition. I was very concerned with the preservation of many of the works as the heat in the rooms was rather unbearable – which I hope they take time to address particularly in the art collection. It was a pleasant way to spend a Sunday amongst families (hell I would take all the family for R10 each – whilst the funny foreigner has to pay R150). 

I thought I would mix up my day by making my way to Mother House the home of Nobel Peace Prize winning Mother Theresa. On arrival I had a physically challenged woman direct me down the small alley. I had read that professional beggars lined the outside of Mother House but this seems to be remedied…at least for the day I was there. Mother House is a peaceful haven where Mother Teresa made her home from 1953 after she set up the Missionaries of Charity until her death in 1997. The house has a small court yard where a room is dedicated to memorialise Mother Teresa (they refer to her as Mother but despite wanting to for the brevity in writing this – she will always be Mother Teresa to me), starting with her journey from her life in Skopje to Ireland and then on to Calcutta in 1929 as a 19 year old. The Nobel Peace Prize is tucked away (again moulding in a little hot house – am I starting to sound like a Museum geek yet?!) along with a syringe used on her, a pencil used by her, her habit, a stool she sat on and basically all of her few possessions, all itemised and accounted for.  I was taken by the Clearfile full of all of her speeches including her Nobel Peace Prize speech. And was delighted to see she liked to write unique prose for each speech. Much has been written for and against Mother Teresa’s work but I think she is an inspiration and during a tumultuous time in Calcutta’s history she humbly showed humility to those young and those knocking on deaths door. The next room houses the raised marbled grave of Mother Teresa. As I entered the sanctum and stood before her I was again touched with the feeling of being in the presence of a person of my time who has changed the thinking and consciousness of people around the world. I acknowledge she was a Catholic Nun working for the good of the church, I don’t believe in many things that the Catholic faith stand for, and many of which Mother Teresa staunchly supported in her Godly living but she was the one symbol in my lifetime that stood for charity, humility and faith. I took the opportunity to have a giggle with the nuns about the sign at the entrance – Mother Teresa MC permanently IN now but the Nuns indulged me by flicking the sign on OUT.

Victoria Memorial - what a charmer

On my last day I made my way to the Victoria Memorial – taking Eden Gardens enjoy the expanses of greenery again. The Memorial was finished a few years after Queen Vic died and is a beautiful Marble monument to the once sovereign power. The gardens which surround the Memorial are picturesque and worthy of a wonder – if just to take some shade. The memorial was a nice respite with a small exhibition of art from a contemporary Indian artist (where I met 3 intrepid single British OAP ladies who made me look forward to old age!) in delicious climate controlled room. The Southern galleries had early Raj art and an excellent colonial museum – curiously leaving you stranded in 1947.

Cricket in India

I headed out to buy an IPL ticket with an Irish singer Emma I had met during a long lunch along with Nic an Aussie riding a bike from Singapore to London. Emma had never seen a game of cricket before so it was going to be a big night for us both. On my way to get tickets I took in the massive Eden Gardens, which spans from Victoria Memorial to the Eden Gardens cricket field. There were numerous games of football being played and many people gathered at the sports clubs doted around the green belt.  As I walked towards the light towers of Eden Garden, home of the Kolkata Knight Riders I walked past two impressive cricket grounds each with stands to seat a few thousand and amongst people making fires to cook their lunches in their park homes. Poverty on the Green seems like such a different life. With a litte bit of nature to me poverty seems more like simplicity. I bought a R500 ticket (£6.25) in the mid field some 20 rows back from the smallest booth I have ever seen. I could literally only see an beady Indian eye as I bent down to buy my ticket of which I had to fold the note to slip through the hole.

As I left the hotel to meet Emma for the IPL lightening was starting to brighten the night sky. We were set for an 8pm start so walked to Eden Garden amongst the commuting crowds and other supporters. I picked up a Kolkata Knight Riders jersey for R100 (£1.25). A small spit changed quickly into intense wind and pelting rain. HELLO INDIAN MONSOON! We made our way ducking and diving to Gate 13 where we took shelter with a few hundred others as the rain pelted down. We hadn’t seen the field but saw 5 Ambulances fill up with police and spectators who had all fallen victim to a security structure which had collapsed with the wind. It was later reported all were treated and discharged. 

After 75 minutes of rain Emma bailed – the weather change is never good for a singers voice – so I made friends with a few people form Western India on holiday in Kolkata and started the paparazzi tour of Eden Gardens – nothing like a white girl on her own at a cricket match with your home colours on to make her a sight of pleasure…oh great I’ve just realised I am sports fans porn! I made my way through warm puddles to the stand where I took in the huge cheers when the rollers came onto the pitch and the whoops when an announcement was scheduled at 10.15pm that there would be an announcement on play (remembering IPL is a money driven machine incidentally played out with a dry pitch game of cricket, we had TV time until 11pm so it was always going to be touch and go). After a short deliberation and a lot of nodding, gesticulating and a few more covers being lifted from the field play was abandoned. 

I walked home tired, disappointed and tired of flashing lights. As I trudged down Sudder St (Kolkata’s backpacker st) the homeless locals all gave me great smiles and the comradery for a dampened night was shared, despite the fact I had a warm hotel room to sleep in with power, running water and a complimentary breakfast.

Kolkata other sites

While in the region of the Victoria Memorial I popped across the street to St Pauls Cathedral – an elegant North Indian Christian Church. I can’t help but find Christian churches a welcome respite on my journey through the holy lands of Asia where religion defines you and devotes seek payment for your obvious curiosity. After some street food and a nice respite in the hotel lobby I attempted to see the holy Outram Ghat. 

Unfortunately as sunset it was too much for my cab driver who had me lost along the Ganges. So any great holy experience I was anticipating ended in frustration. Instead I was deposited at the Millennium Park an Indian theme park with bumper rides and an esplanade along the river bank. I admired the Howrah Bridge as the sun set for once paying local prices to enter a tourist site. 5 Rupees – Score!

My final mission was to see the famed bookish corner of India - College St. Partho had suggested I come here and as I took direction from the river I walked “just straight and on the left” for 45 minutes admiring the British Colonial architecture and bustling life where severe poverty shone back at me through the eyes of the curb dwellers and the foot ‘tana rickshaws’ (I had seen a kiwi guy trying this with the Tana Driver and his travel mate on the back). After finding College St I thought Partho’s last visit must have been a while ago…the street now seemed to be a centre for porcelain, be it squat or western there was no mistaking this was the street to buy a toilet. I thought the locals must think “What the hell is she doing here?” but I preserved, finally I was struck like an encyclopaedia by hundreds upon hundreds of text books of the future rulers of the world. Any text book you could ever dream of was here. And some of the sellers where possibly as old as the antique books they sold. It was such a pleasure to be amongst this environment. There is something wonderful about being in the company of learners. I find a little nook that sold maps and I bought a guide to Nepal – as educational as it gets on The Big Adventure, I learn best by doing and I have learnt a lot in the past 9 months.

I thoroughly enjoyed my time in Kolkata. It penetrated the senses like all the best cities in the world. I was hugged and kissed by its children and found it curiously safe. I didn’t feel overwhelmed by people being interested in me for a change (except at the cricket which is hardly surprising). The people were warm and friendly, the temperature sweltering and the contrast of life not as evident as in other cities I have visited in India. There are definitely more things to discover there…take it from me visiting in April is not the best month for Kolkata (Partho you can have the final word here….”I told you so”).