The City of Joy

Churmur

I was taken on a trip to see the new parts of Calcutta, towards New Garia, where wide highways with multiple lanes are propping up, the well-lit roads have numerous modern high rises on both sides. The area is complete with supermarkets and the best part is the extension of the Calcutta Metro Railways to cover the southern, eastern and under-the-river channel. It is really great. A city has to move ahead to the future, and Calcutta, albeit after a long time, seems to be catching up. Since last time, I am seeing the city to be much better and cleaner like any decent city should be. The supermarkets are stacked with things like olive oil, bakeware, and toilet tissue, stuff which were not really available easily here in the Bengali areas. A ton of fancy restaurants have also come up. One doesn't need to go to Park Street for continental food any more. Steakhouses and pubs have become quite common and even though they don't really match the Bengali mindset, I think this is a part of globalization we will all have to come to terms with.

Fish fry

While on vacation from Seattle, the stuff I crave most are all available from the street hawkers in Gariahat. For some reason, I feel that Gariahat, with all the clothes, purses, mehndi, and household goods shops that you see on the street has more charm than even Champs Elysees. Here the hawkers at least still call me "didi". I prefer "didi" (elder sister) or even "mona" (a special term of endearment used for young girls, only by people originating from East Bengal) over the massively used "madam" these days, especially at the shopping malls. The phuchkawala in front of our house is still here and he still makes those heavenly mouth-watering phuchka and churmur. He remembers me and makes his usual joke of adding too much green chillies because he knows I don't eat spicy food.

Calcutta to me lives here in the woven cotton sarees, small cups of tea, jhaalmuri, and in the crowded buses. It is in the taste of fish, where the mustard paste is blended right, in the chocolate sandesh of Bhim Chandra Nag, in the smell that wafts in the moment you enter Nahoum's confectioners, and through those innumerable walks along noisy, crowded, and quite dirty streets that engulf you in a sense of warmth and belonging.