Kolkata Diary

I had a romantic notion about West Bengal for its great cultural and literary tradition, besides as it is the place of Rabindranath Tagore, the person I adore, i have a special feeling for it. Infact Bengal gave birth to many erudite men as Aurobindo, Vivekananda, Sathyajit Ray etc who are very precious to my heart.

West Bengal is considered the cultural capital of India, it is like France to Europe. Bengalis are proud of their brilliant culture and language.
When I landed at Nethaji Subhash Chandra Bose Airport in Kolkatta, I was so overwhelmed with a strange happiness. The very name (we are used to names of Nehru family),the atmosphere all seemed quite fresh and soothing to me. At last I am in the land of Tagore- the poet, guru, an eternal inspiration to humanity. My heart starts humming in profound joy, ‘thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure’(the beginning lines in Gitanjali). Tagore is like god to Bengalis, those who are not into reading even adore him.

It was raining all the night and I found a place to stay near Chowrangee line which is one of the busiest area in the city. Kolkatta resembles other Indian cities in many ways-traffic,dust,pollution and people. Yet I feel Kolkatta is a city having care and concern. People are extremely friendly and accommodative, at least I felt so. I often visited a shop near my guest house to find some ethnic ornaments. To my pleasant surprise, one day the shop keeper gifted me a bracelet made by himself. I was so moved by this gesture and thus my heart got closer to the city. I often felt a good wave length with Bengalis at least with those who came into my contact. I have always something to share with them either literature or politics. One day while having breakfast in a restaurant, which is mostly frequented by foreigners, one young bright waiter recognized me as a Keralite! He says he can make out people of any region or language. Oh gifted man, I said to myself. I tried different Bengali cuisines especially fish, food is cheaper than other cities, but i found it spicy.

On my idle walks through the city, I came across with so many beggars, especially girls on the street. Some are pretty sophisticated who know the art of begging well. Some even speak English and would befriend you in the guise of guiding you to find bus or direction. I chatted with them for long by avoiding the stares from people walking beside me. They complained me about their misery, apathy of the system etc asif I am their saviour. Most of those beggars are from from Bihar and Bangladesh, few are from certain villages in West Bengal. My concerns caused me some money, but they were expecting more from me. On my way back I was disturbed by their struggle for survival. That reminded me of the absurdity of a socialist regime that rules there more than two decades.

Today’s Kolkatta is a pot-pourry of culture, povety,film, malls, books plus communism. I couldn’t roam around much of Kolkata except few touristic spots,but what saddedned me most was that I had to skip my cherished visit to Shanti Niketan, the brain child of Tagore. But I have a valid reason o go back to Kolkatta again, I consoled myself.