A slice of West Bengal

Kolkata for me is not a city, it is an emotion. From childhood visits to it becoming my home in the later years- there is a bit of Kolkata in my personality, my thoughts, my food, my music, and my being. Today, when I write about one of my favourite cities while being miles away from there, the red minibuses, the book lanes of College Street, the charming old green windows of old Calcutta, the buzzing Chinese cuisine restaurants, and the sweet shops, all come flashing at once in my mind and I wonder where I should start writing from!

West Bengal is known to have produced the finest literary pieces, the land of Rabindra Nath Tagore, the state of India which talks about politics and football over morning tea and evening snacks, home of Dada- Saurav Ganguly, the place where you hear beautiful Bengali music through all doors and windows during the morning chaos or at the time of dusk. The wide world of the internet can tell you this and much more. Let me not tread that path, but instead, tell you what West Bengal meant to a 6-year-old me and what it means to me now.

Summer of 1989

Summer vacations for us- my brother and me, meant the fascinating train journeys to and from Kolkata, where our grandparents lived. We would have the sibling rivalry for the window seat. I would know we are in West Bengal the moment I could spot the greens and the massive rice paddy fields. To my little eyes back then, that was what heaven looked like- green fields, with crystal-like dew drops embracing everything, children playing in the fields, and scarecrows looking at you from afar. My excitement wouldn’t know any bounds, the moment we would step on to Howrah station. I would be mindful not to loosen the grip of my mother’s hand though. The magnificent Howrah Bridge with all the yellow taxis in the queue, neck-to-neck traffic, everyone in a hurry to get somewhere, and hurling words of frustration, in Bangla, to each other, you let the vibe sink in Welcome to Kolkata.

Three things that were part of these summer vacations with grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins:

Food: Every Bengali household begins its days by discussing the entire day’s menu. Fish would have a prominent role to play during lunch, chicken, or mutton kosha (the way the meat is prepared) for dinner and breakfasts would have luchi (poori), chholaar daal (gram), or aloo bhaaja (potato fry). Special occasions would mean beginning the day with Kochuri (kachori, spicy deep-fried Indian snack) and some sweet. I would need more than 800 words to talk only about the variety of sweets that can be consumed in Bengal. There is a sweet shop in every 200 meters, and I am not even exaggerating.

Sightseeing: We never got tired of visiting the Zoo, Park Street, and Victoria Memorial. The hot sun, the long queues, and the crowded bus rides would be all worth it when we were given the ice-creams at the zoo.

Park Street was and still is the razzle-dazzle of the city. With the huge number of restaurants, music stores, ice-cream parlours, bookstores, the iconic St Xavier’s School and College, and home to my college in the later years- Loreto College, the magnificent bakery- Flurry’s- Park Street might make you never want to leave the city. A few walks ahead stand the glorious Victoria Memorial- the pristine white grand architecture built between 1906 – 1921, is now a museum. When you visit Kolkata, never miss this attraction – you will certainly not be disappointed.

Around Kolkata: During the summer break, it was a ritual to visit the mountains, even if for a couple of days. The highlight of the trip would be the train ride to Darjeeling, a quaint little town up north in West Bengal- was a respite from the heat and the bountiful beauty of the hill station has a charm like none other. I remember keeping a journal penning down everything I saw or could behold during these trips.

If you are visiting Kolkata during May, there are high chances you might experience ‘Kaal Baisakhi’- the strong winds with heavy rains, which occur during the confluence of spring and summer. The cyclones during this period can range from mild to very strong. The texture of the air, the colour of the sunset, and the poetry in sunrise- have given way to innumerable works of art in the form of literature, paintings, and music.

Autumn of 2004

The city has its own pace and doesn’t like that equilibrium being disturbed. But it has many sky-scrappers now, and the hand-pulled rickshaws have the attention of the Human Rights activists. Autumn isn’t the prettiest time in West Bengal. It’s muggy, warm, and disorienting. This until Durga Puja arrives. With that, all the humidity in the air and the sweaty heat would be forgotten. West Bengal in unison prepares for the arrival of the Goddess. This is the most exciting time to visit West Bengal. The four days of Durga Puja are when every corner is lit up. There is celebration, festivity, laughter, chaos, food, and music in every corner of Kolkata.

The beautiful Bengali sarees are adorned by women, men bring out their best Panjabi-Pyjama (as said in colloquial Bangla) and children wear their blingy and fresh out-of-the-oven clothes. There is much brotherhood and happiness in the air. Durga Puja across Bengal is a sight to behold. The roads are jammed and there are too many people out on the roads, but no one minds anything. It’s like entering the home of one big family all living in harmony! Most of the time, it rains during this period, but that doesn’t dampen the spirit.

The Cultural Pot: Before, during and until a few days after Durga Puja, you will come across cultural programs- music, theatre, art display, poetry recitation and various kinds of art in every nook and corner of the city. I remember going for a play every Durga Puja with my father at ‘Nandan’. When in the city, you should absolutely catch a show at this historical theatre and have a little cup of lemon tea sold by the hawkers. You might be tempted to have a fish-fry, or an egg chop being sold at one of the counters- if you have the patience to be in the queue, go for it!

Winter of 2012

By now it’s been 7 years that I have been living in Mumbai. This winter I am home because my grandmother has passed away. There is sadness and chill in the air. For me, Kolkata, since a child, meant home to my grandparents (after they moved there from Ranchi). And this December this narrative changed. To bring variation to the mood, my uncle suggests that we do a drive around Park Street to see Christmas lights. Park Street during December is a major tourist attraction. The lights are splendid and can cheer or at least attempt to cheer you up.

It’s cold outside, my cousin and I pick up our ‘shawls’ and take a walk to have ‘puchka’ (pani puri) like old times- with some extra tamarind and chilies. It instantly brings back some light in our eyes. It’s a perception that Bengalis are good writers. It is true in our family. This winter my cousin dedicated a book to our grandmother, and I poured my heart out in a poem and it is still one of my favourites.

Spring of 2018

This was one of my last visits before I moved to New Zealand. Rushed visit to spend time with my parents, to take a break from my busy Mumbai life, and to find hope again during Spring. I love spring and I love how Kolkata, in all its busyness, is beautiful. We celebrate the beginning of a new year according to Bengali calendar. Again, this marks families coming together, sharing food, experiences, cricket, and football updates, political agreements, and disagreements, and celebrate. We, the people of West Bengal, celebrate a lot- little things and big. We pour our love and appreciation in our poetries, through Rabindra Sangeet, Geet-o-Bitaan recitations, art, song, Sarat Chandra, and Rabindra Nath knowledge and celebrate. We celebrate life.

In a lifetime, one must visit Kolkata, at least once.

I dedicate this piece to my father, Gouranga Bose, who passed away in 2020 in Kolkata, and who, along with my mother, always taught us- Belong to your roots. Be grounded and never forget where you are from. And I, never will- Kolkata will always be home. -this article is written by Shivangi Bose, she is a Marketing and Communications professional at a leading financial services company in Auckland. She moved to New Zealand in 2020 and is contributing writer with The Indian News.