Ten things I love about Kolkata

Having talked about the things that irritated me over the two years I spent in Kolkata, don't take me to be a pessimist. I was saving all the good memories for the next post. For every one thing that I have found wrong in this city, Kolkata has offerred me ten things I love. But I am going to present only the TopTen here. Remember that this is a very personal list and so may not be exactly the best things you can do/know about Calcutta; but the Ten Best things for me, about the City of Joy.

10, Walk at the Lake; It could be a hot and humid summer morning where walking from home to the lake could be a real pain even if you live really close (and I live pretty close). But the moment you step inside the area around the lake, with its small islands, a mosque in one of those kidney bean shaped island, a headless overly done modern statue in the middle of a square, the dogs lazing in the sun, the rowing club members cutting through the breeze from over the lake... It is really worth it to wake up in the morning.

9, Adda; the art of speaking nothing, passionately. This could be the most fun activity you can do in Calcutta. The size of the group, the context, the nature of conversation, nothing affects the quality of interesting nothings shared by everyone. Stream of consciousness was born here; I am sure and I had my good share of conversations with interesting people from many walks of life. Cheers to the culture that resists the benefit-oriented alliances forged in the new world. God bless Addaerica!

8, The Sparrows; No- this is not any Euphemism. But while we are on the subject; the over all good looking women per cent is really high in Calcutta and (as far as I know) they are not conceited (like women from another city I would rather not talk about - not the city, but the women). It is the REAL sparrows that I am talking about; yes, the birds. When I was a kid, I used to see a lot of sparrows around my house. With time, I stopped noticing. At one point, I forgot altogether to look for sparrows. When I reached Calcutta, I realized that these small, beautiful chirpers have almost completely vanished from Madras. When they wait at the window for my mother to bring their daily dose of food, they look on expectantly like they are real people. Who could look at that and not be moved?

7, Winter; was one of those things that I experienced for the first time when I came to Calcutta. Three months of the year where you don't have to be bugged by the buzzing sound of the fan, where you look at the foggy sky that goes dark by four-thirty and the ever-present chillng wind that makes you want to wrap yourself with a blanket... Hmmm... All these things show that I had lived in a place where Christmas day was still hot enough to break a sweat. But also, never have I enjoyed riding more on my lovely bike, than in winter in Calcutta. Not only because it allows me to wear my biker-jacket and scarf; but also because it gives a feeling of literally cutting through the air. A cup of hot cha tastes a thousand times better, when it warms the hand that holds it in winter.

6, Simplicity of Living; I am not saying that all Kolkatans are angels. But most do not go looking for fights, most are satisfied with what they have, most are gentle, generous and reliable. They have a disregard for rules; but this also encourages a healthy irreverence for every edict, law and ruling imposed on them. This does affect everyday living in many bad ways; but undeniably, the average Kolkatan is more aware of the state of life he is in and is involved at some level in grappling it. Though a strong and vocal history of dissent has been confused with lyadh (laziness); the capacity to enjoy life in the details has not diminished.

5, Roshogulla; the fact that a single food item gets a special place in the list shows how important it is for the everyday Kolkatan identity. There are so many shapes and sizes we find this simple but unsurpassable delicacy. This was also the first thing that I had to eat when I stepped foot in Kolkata. It started a sweet journey for me; and though I have had a lot of other misti in this city of great sweetmeatmakers, I have never found another that could match the roshogulla. The word itself is a declaration of the Bangla spirit; for the moment you start moving away from rasagulla and towards roshogulla - you have started feeling the city in your system.

4, Food; though this is not the place if you are looking for a mid-range restaurant that offers good, clean seating and an air-conditioned setting to have a meal, Kolkata has food-joints of a lot of variety that cater to people from all walks and levels of life. However, more than the general conception of food; it is the particulars that make me rate the food angle of Kolkata very highly. Food is so important, because people do not think twice before treating themselves to a misti or two. The idea of buying for "occasions" gets replaced with everyday buyers. You do not usually buy sweets by the weight in Calcutta; for it is both impractical and unaffordable for a daily-wages laborer to buy in hundreds of grams. All he needs is a single serving that he could get for as low as 2 rs. And most importantly, the cost is not associated to quality. The best dosa I have had in Calcutta (and the best Value for Money dosa I have ever had) is opposite the University at a small one room place called Raj South Indian (where you get the good crispy dosa for 12 bucks served with 2 chutneys and a palatable sambar). There are many other small but interesting landmarks that you could encounter in the food pilgrimmage of Calcutta; like Maharaja tea stall where the costliest item on the menu is the 6rs special masala cha and everything else is 3 bucks and the place sells out stuff in such a fast, neverending clip. Opposite Golf Green at Lake Gardens, is this small momo shop DengZong that serves undoubtedly THE BEST momos I have ever tasted in my life. I am a big fan of their falay as well. There are so many places that I could mention; but I don't want to get hungry. Anyway, each Kolkatan will have his/her own place of choice. But food keeps us ticking in Calcutta.

3, Jadavpur University; is a self-sustained Universe in itself. I regret not having made any friends outside my own department (Complit doesn't count), except one. But again, there was always so much happening at my own dept, that there was hardly any time to look at other stuff. Food was good at the many canteens of JU. People always took themselves seriously but always came through when they were trusted. Most profs were cool; and the ones you don't like, you can easily avoid. From the booksellers under the stairs, to the byanger chata, to Milanda'z, to the jheel, to the spot near the OAT, to the KMR, to the greenzone; every part of the Uni has a memory attached to it. My life in Calcutta was an extremely enjoyable one essentially due to the people I met within the walls of this place. I don't feel nostalgic about JU; not yet. But I am aware of the good things it has taught me and will be grateful for that.

2, Bangaliana; is something that is very difficult to put an exact definition for. It is a bit of everything I have been writing about here; but also more. It is carrying the same umbrella for both rain and shine. It is the capacity to have a child-like innocence when discussing maach-bhaat. It is the courage to have the worst argument and then continue being good friends. It is taking things easy. It is getting things done. It is opposites. It is the same thing. It is Mamatadi and Buddababu simultaneously. It is the unexhaustible reservoir of patience that the people have as they struggle through every single day. It is also the smile they have ready for each other despite everything. Bangaliana is everything that we do not feel like explaining. Long live the magic of taking things easy.

1, Durga Pujo; if anyone knows me, they would be aware of how excited I get during this time of the year. This is the BEST thing that happens in Calcutta. Every street decks up and every para (locality) has a pandal; and once the season sets in, it is NONSTOP enjoyment ranging from four days to govt officials to nearly a month for school children. Sadly, a lot of the current Bangalis have started making a habit out of going on vacation during Pujo, instead of letting their children soak in on this lovely tradition of diligent love towards the gods and man alike. This carnival cannot be ever explained by anyone; for it HAS to be experienced first hand. However, the very fact that I said that line and called it Pujo instead of 'Puja' marks my complete togetherness with this lovely city and its culture that does not shine better than during Pujo. For the record, last Pujo, I went pandal-hopping for 11 days and saw over 88 pandals in almost every big area of Kolkata; one of my proudest achievements and happiest feats in the city.

I cannot thank Kolkata for serving as my homebase for these past two years. I would always remember this beautiful city with fond memories. This is the city where I grew from a boy to a man. Every person instrumental in this change, this growth will be cherished in my life. And most of all, it is the city itself that gave me an opportunity to reinvent myself. I thank you and love you, dear Calcutta.

Oh that's why!

I am back from a ten day vacation just before the week of my exams with my family to the beautiful (mostly) hill-station-ridden Himachal Pradesh. Apart from the regular tourist haunts like Simla (horrible place - feels like an overloaded slice of a city crammed into a mountainous region; more on this later) and Manali (which is just a Mall road with a tourist offices to go to "higher" places), we also visited Dharamsala (or to be more specific, McLeodgunj). One thing that struck me about McLeod was the volume of foreigners in the town. Of course, you are thinking as you are reading, Saravanan, it is a tourist spot! Foreigners do come as tourists, see? Yes, I get what you are saying. However, I am not talking about, it-is-a-crowded-tourist-spot kind of foreigner density but like oh-my-freaking-god-we-are-strangers-in-this-white-infested-town kind of foreigner density. I sound racist here because almost all foreigners there were really white. Eastern Europe, America, Western Europe, old, young, suspect, dignified - they came in all shapes and sizes; but the common denominator was that they were all white. It might be a fact interesting to someone who is interested in such things; but not me, I am here to talk about a different kind of foreigner density.

While going from McLeod to Manali, we met a bunch of travellers from Europe on the coach. With a seating of just 9 people, interaction between passengers were cordial in that 10 hour trip.

There were some obvious, almost rhetorical if not for the faith of the asker, questions;
(from my incredulous mother to a very British and ageing home-maker); You are travelling without your husband and children?
(from a bewildered chai-wala to me about one of my co-passengers); How can he speak such good Hindi?

There were also the polite questions which lead to some really interesting facts;
(from my unsuspecting mother) How long have are you in India?
Mikhail says; We have been here just five months. (Indians in the coach stunned) We have no time, to see many places. (Indians stop understanding; a vacation beyond TWO WEEKS!)

I hate answering questions. Unless I am in the right frame of mind, I even hate talking. So I dreaded the polite question that would be directed to me. Waited for it to get over, that I may go back to the book I was reading.
What do you do in Calcutta?

I am pursuing my Masters.
Which subject?
Literature. English.
(Its the Israeli woman's turn to be relieved) Oh? That is why your English is so much better than ours. (A round of laughter all around)

Was it a laughter of relief or pride? Both. From different parts of the coach.

That is when I was acutely aware of the difference between the people in the coach. In that sentence and the stress on that word, there was an underlying principle in action. A simple and ancient one called syllogism. Let me give an example how it works.

Fact 1: All cats die. Fact 2: Socrates died. Therefore, Socrates must be a cat.

Let me rephrase this in context.
Fact 1: English Literature students know the language better than others. Fact 2: Saravanan is such an aforementioned student. Therefore, Saravanan knows the language, etc etc.

Does not seem harmful, does it? Maybe it is just as innocent as it appears. The logic ACTUALLY looks sound. Wait, it must be so. I perhaps am being too paranoid. Seriously. She is a good-natured, hardworking, mother of three in her mid-50s. She cannot have spoken what she did with malice.

Then it struck me harder.

She does NOT speak with malice. It is a given for her. It is a fact and an undeniable axiom to her. Now the syllogism comes back to me. Not in what was spoken but in what was omitted.

Fact 1: The only way an Indian, who has not even seen the Continent in real life, can speak English with some authority is by having studied it over a significant period of time. Fact 2: Saravanan is one such aforementioned person. Therefore, This is the ONLY LOGICAL CASE where he should be able to speak in such comfort this alien tongue.

For a moment, I raged against myself. I did not speak another word to any of the Others in the coach. The journey ended but not my anger. How dare she think that I am a natural inferior who cannot speak the language of the white man better than her? It took me a few days for the blanket of anger evaporate. It struck me then; WHY IN HELL WAS I MAKING ENGLISH-LANGUAGE-SPEAKING, THE QUALIFIER FOR SUPERIORITY?!??!

Then it all came back to me. Of course she is right in assuming that a person is not comfortable in a NON-native tongue. Some are linguists/experts who have spent countless years dedicated to their pursuit of knowledge in a different tongue. But the general crowd did not. If people learned English in countries like Israel, it is only to get along in countries where their own tongue was useless. They barely made sentences. Their scholars of the language were in big Universities. The smirk I had on my face when I thought, oh, every child at 15 years of age in a city-school in India can speak better English than you; vanished. It turned to shame. Why was it that such a thought gave me so much pride? What was the big fucking deal about speaking English anyway? Now her syllogism which had once appeared foolish and narrow-minded, now felt like a golden nugget of wisdom. It became clearer to me. This time, the dignity came unforced.

Fact1: No sensible person would give such importance to an alien tongue as to have mastered it if there was not some special interest attached to it. Fact2: MA in English qualifies such a special interest. Therefore, Saravanan's language is such and such.

I was happy that this time, when I removed my name from the preliminary facts, a humbler path led me to a more fulfilling answer. I was happy.

But then I realized that I was writing all this in English.

Nothing had changed.

There was not much I can do. After having invested heavily in this area for a large part of my life, I cannot walk away from what I have gathered. So, the cause is a tragedy. Nothing can happen.

But wait; there is hope.

I decided, that I will continue writing in English. Except. I shall write in 'e'nglish.

And that is how the "capital"ism in english ended.

First things First; lets go hunting...

Long absence, will try to make it up, yatti yatti yatta!

You wanna know why people are so up for hunting these days? (Brace urself for a really bad pun), because there is a Tiger in the Woods. When the going gets tough for a sports-hero, that is when (s)he needs your support the most. This is my turn to come out and pledge my allegiance to the Tiger.

I can talk about how he is an easy target because he is a celebrity and how others screw around with their personal relationships and get away with it and that the man is paying the price of fame. The fact that the media is making a huge three ring circus out of this hardworking man's life is also not my point of interest. I am a simpler man. I make politically incorrect statements and am not hesitant to change them if situation demands it to change; not because I am a person with a flip-flop kinda temperament but I believe that being consistent is over-rated as opposed to being right. Today, I am gonna make a statement and it is one of those times where I am pretty positive that I will not change my mind about this one. Here it goes... A genius is bound by the political laws of the land as is any other citizen; but never have an illusion that you have a control over his ethics. Your ethical laws are nowhere close to his zone of mental/spiritual activity. And still, as silly mortals who presume to know everything about everythign despite having had only about four hundred years of continuous history, they would still pretend to know what goes on in the mind of a person whose perspective of things are entirely otherworldly compared to the rest. Tiger Woods is a man on the top of the golfing world, because he can think in a way that all the other losers of the world put together cannot think in. It is the same mind that makes him feel inadequately satisfied with one woman. That he takes in a harem of a dozen, is just as solid a fact and nothing more than the fact that he has won every major title in the world to be won and he is still going strong. You cannot change a fact by wishing it away. You cannot pretend that one fact about a person changes everything else about the person. So as long as the world pretends everything to be in black/white with its media as its blanket, it can only keep growing frustrated knowing how impotent it is. So sayeth this SaravananMan!