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.

Maugham said, "...that's why I couldn't read PostColonial Drama so much!"

errm... well, Maugham did NOT say that. Not even close. But he actually did say something which is a significant part of this blorticle. If not the most vital part if it, certainly the definitive moment of the piece. But I get ahead of myself. Let me start with a story about a kid. An average schoolkid who still has left in her/him, all the illusory promises of greatness that the future promises to offer. Being the ever enthusiastic participant in every inter-school competition, (s)he ends up winning one. A debate, quiz or poetry recitation; does not matter. Our objective is that (s)he wins a gift-certificate of, say, one hundred rupees to some bookstore. It does not matter if it is a traditional piles of books on top of books kind of store or the new places where you have to cross a sea of CDs/DVDs/accessories/crockery/chocolates/perfumes/PC games/PSP games/PS1,2,3 games/toys-stuffed and otherwise, to finally reach some of the good books. Either place would work for our story.

The child decides, out of sheer boredom and overexposure, the (s)he would not buy anything else but some books. Perhaps it is a selfrighteous fit of overenthusiasm, a bout of sincere inclination towards knowing more of "literature" or even a simple curiosity of the unknown (read: parental pressure to do something that they never did). Anywhichway, this kid, whose age I have forgotten to mention (is about twelve, by the way), steps into the books section. Let us skip to the point of the story; Too many options described in an aloof/borderline funny way, a lot of derision towards self-help and biographies, a moment of self-indulgent ogling at the awesomeness of the comics section and a little more venom spat towards self-help books later, we are at the drama section, where our little friend (if you snigger, you shall die a death by reading self-help) has stopped. Why has (s)he decided to have a look at this section is a different blorticle; whose essence I am giving out in the next line for the certain uncertainty of never getting down to write it. It could be because (s)he felt the inner, natural pull towards the most ancient form of worship, or it could be the natural spidey-smarts that alerted the kid that shorter than a novel, simpler than poetry; a play is all that you could read in minutes ninety. I don't know. But ya, either way, there (s)he stands, looking, staring, judging at playwrights from Aeschylus to me (boink! wishful-thinking, redalert!). Read closely folks, for this is the point of the piece. (S)he invariably buys a simple-Shakespeare edition and goes back home, living happily ever after. Well, at least until that second divorce and that bizarre double murder-suicide. But that is not part of our story. Our story has ended. Get out. Go out and play in the rain. If you read the previous line, you did not listen to the one before that and so I can say whatever which you will not pay the slightest attention to... Okay, I cannot understand what I am saying but let me quickly put down in bullet form, what I intend you to infer from the above story.

• There is a general, often unnoticed trend in the pricing of the books which "encourage" us, from a very young age, towards buying books which are touted to be "them, Classics". For a hundred bucks, there are only 'n' number of books that you may buy, particularly when you are not willing to shell out extra cash. And despite a revision of gift-certificate values in mid-range city schools makes a real and present representation; it ain't my battle and I shall stick to the pricing.
• Let's face it, Shakespeare will always be cheaper than Beckett or Ngugi. And let us not even GO to Pinter or Shaffer. As a writer, you are saved as long as you are being taught as a part of a syllabus; thanks to some friendly neighborhood professor-assissted publication which makes some of the books relatively affordable. GOD FORBID, if you are a standalone, popular enough to be shunned by the academics and not popular enough to be blessed with a paperback edition. You are doomed to be one of those names that are oft-mentioned but never read.
• Playwrights who are affected most by this tendancy, are the postcolonial ones. Sometimes I wonder, is this a way by which the Empire prevents us from striking back? It is as if one of those Harv-grad business execs got up and said, "Here's a good strategy to keep these dissenting voices under a tab. Let us sign them all on good figure deals, no matter how good/bad they are and overprice their books, so that nobody would ever read them!" Who am I kidding? Those kids cannot even say dissenting. But somebody's doing something which makes certain books more/less accessible than the others, aren't they?
• Before I go on about it, let me drop another term, most probably self-invented, the indeterminacy of Classicability factor. Simpler put, it is the who/what decides a book to be a Classic, a.k.a, must-read. It is almost like a transitive verb (all students of Franco-German languages, gimme a hell yeah!), but only it is not. Who says, that despite from being the same age, Sean O'Casey should be more expensive than Shaw or Strindberg's Dream Play alone should be unavailable online in translation when all his other plays are non-dime-a-dozen (if you are not counting the internet/current/initial investment of purchasing a computer charge). Does that mean, that these books (plays, in this context) are so revolutionary that THEY are doing everything to prevent us from even getting hold of a copy? So, to conclude in the same fashion of my previous paragraph, somebody must be doing this, who are they?
• Okay, lemme ground myself back-to-reality (Peace! 2 Eminem), and accept facts. Fact is, newer IS dearer. Given that the authors are not dead yet in a more literal plane, it makes it that much tougher to bring out low-price editions. Between royalty and copyrights, most works seal their fates. And works by themselves are non-living things which only accomplish, or try-to, the intentions of the author behind the book. Fact of the matter is, (all those waiting for the moment of a piece where I make a preposterous accusation, this is it!) AUTHORS DO NOT WANT TO TAKE A CUT IN THEIR PAYCHECK.

Face it, they might pretend to care about the third-world-ness of the third-world, they might cry you a river or lie down in front of a steamrolling roadroller charging at 5 kmph in a rainforest (oddly, almost often near the release of their next books) or even pay in obscene number of dollars to get that, oh-so-unfashionable! look befitting an author who fights for the CAUSE! But bottomline is, they have bills to pay, possibly a bit more than what you and I have to and acquired tastes, be it caviar or cocaine, is the hardest to kick and dearest in the world too. That is why dead authors make more benevolent souls.

And that is why Maugham's words come back to me, for its startling inaccuracy. "Writers write, not because they want to; but because they must!" Bollocks to you my Maughaman! They write, because they MUST BE PAID! Remember, I am not your usual geek who remembers quotes, so there is a source besides the source. Couple of days ago, I read a piece by my favorite author, Paulo Coelho where he adds his own third line to Maugham (everybody's after this guy to add another line, poor dude!), saying, "because they want to be read!" Coelho walks the talk and puts up, get ready to do the double take, PIRATED E-VERSIONS of his OWN WORKS! He started this way back in the early nineties, putting up the Russian version of The Alchemist on a fan's request and has gone on to put up books in any language where he is not bound by a contract to do so. This shockingly self-defeatist attitude which seems to be a sure way to bury one's self has, au contraire, helped the writer. He has sold in millions and is still counting.

What all could be achieved if only a creator wills to put the creation ahead of her/himself, has no bounds! It is a fact that most, if not all, writers have a "day-job" which contributes to their writing not insignificantly. By making their works available to the world, writers guarantee a wider reach of audience without necessarily putting themselves in a corner, eating the I-am-not-getting-paid-for-this pie. Time is money, and the more interesting your work is, the more money you make, without imposing a toll on the audience for experiencing your work. What more, other fields would also benefit from such a policy. Already, the principle has been verified with in the movie-business in the days of P2P sharing. Have we not, in the past three years, seen more Global-grossers than before, when the audience were "protected"? With a little innovation from the creators, movies would simply become two different realms; one, where good stories are told with non-existent budgets and the other, which would be a pure spectacle industry; both extremely successful!

But I get ahead of myself, again! Let me start the change, by being the change. Henceforth, all my works shall be considered public domain. Do not let the current absence of a publisher make you take me lightly. I am considered to be a man of my word; more or less. To read any of my works, simply write to me at thesaruaon23@gmail.com. I shall soon upload a detailed catalogue of my completed works, few though they maybe. So, until then, think, write and be cool!