I got the idea for this when someone asked me why my location reads Calcutta for the next 70 odd days now, and about the city of joy in general. Of course in coming to jokaland, one basically had no choice, so it was done. Still remember cursing the profs at B, something I’ve stopped after realizing that professionally I got the better deal. But then just coz you are stuck in a jungle in hope of greener pastures doesn’t mean you gotta love it.
Anyways coming back to the city of joy. There are two primary routes of entering, either by Howrah station( poor people like me would enter this via second class or general compartments of Indian railways) or by the airport at Dumdum. ( for those under the misconception that the metro, which ends at Dumdum is anywhere close to it, it is about a 60 buck fare from the metro terminus to the airport). For those who are not rich, you enter via Howrah. You begin to know its near, when you see a whole load of run down houses, and a stink seeps into the compartment with the train stopping a lot of times to give a pass to the locals. ( the locals in this state are always on time, a side effect of the commie governments over ages). In this its not too different from Mumbai, the so called mecca for the job seeker, as shown in hazaar hindi movies. The stink of the suburbs is pathetic, especially near the railroad. Of course at the airport, you take a prepaid cab and go wherever. So you don’t notice the difference, as a certain choti of my batch dint, having come to cal twice on official visits, and having stayed on park street.
While entering of course, most places in this country are sad, so I guess it is unfair to criticize Calcutta on that ground. Contrary to whatever masses of the country think, there exist students who have some budgets even if they study in IIM’s. “Park Street” and “Forum” are the most “happening” places of Calcutta, so most of the time pass that we ever did in the city happened in and around these places. For those interested in a quick tour of the city, a trip around that area will show them everything of interest ( some British Raj buildings, and the Victoria memorial ( couples please don’t smooch over there, you might be taken to jail on charges of prostitution, which is known to happen over there) . ) For people with religious interests, there is the temple at Kalighat ( this is a peaceful place btw). The problem here is just that driving in the city is painful and perilous ( tram tracks infest the roads, and there are processions and stuff like that throughout the year). In fact, if you want to get delayed by an hour or so anywhere, just nudge a pedestrian, and a huge rush will gather near you and chatter away in bengali , expressing angst ( or sympathy if you are the pedestrian, doesn’t matter if you don’t understand shit about whats happening. I have been a pedestrian nudged by a car). A local friend of mine says “ yaar yeh kalkatta hai. Ek aadmi ko choo do, do sau ka bheed ikattha ho jaega do second mein”. I will leave the reader to make what he/she chooses to do out of it.
Coming to the hangout places. At kharagpur ( which is a village by any standards ), we had 2 legal bars( and one illegal), 5 restaurants ( outside campus, 3 inside), two places from where you could get booze at any time of the night. Here, in a place which comes under municipal limits, and located 5 kms from Saurav Ganguly’s residence ( the Puja at his place is world famous in Calcutta, there is a que of about 3 hours to have a “darshan” there, similar to tirupati ), we have 2 places from where you can just order food, one illegal theka, where the food is better than either of the above two and… yeah, we have Woodstock, the place where you can procure greenpeace. We have a few resorts further down, but they serve only preferred customers ( some people had sad experiences, apparently coz of their looks, they were assumed to want more than just beer there).
To have “fun” people go to park street or forum districts, which is a one and a half hour tortuous journey by cab, if one actually deigns to go. Here, cabbies have the delhi wala habit of not going at all if you don’t pay them extra. They assume that since you are a student, you gotta roll in money. Often no amount of money will make them shake their asses. This of course is for cabbies not in park street district. The ones in park street district just ask for 10-20 or no money extra depending on his mood.
Now that you’ve landed in park street, you feel like drinking some draft beer to soothe your nerves. You very boldly go to “Some Place Else”, the bar of the Park Hotel, thinking ki ok boss, I wont drink for a month, but I will have draft beer. But no, you dint go on Wednesday, which is the only day they serve draft beer. So you walk out broken hearted and go to one step up, Mocambo or any such place and have beer and food at rates which you can reasonably expect. Having blown some 500 bucks in an evening ( sans the taxi fares and chocolate excess at barrista’s ), you go back. ( similar charges in the theka come to about 200 per head, with an extra bottle of beer thrown in). So “An evening at park street costs about 700 odd, leaving you with nothing to do over the whole month, if you live on a budget. For those who want a cheaper option and are willing to eat cows, there is a place called “Oly Pub”, which looks like a retro parade, with all sorts of uncles in the bar, and cigarette smoke all over the place. It is cheap(as much as the theka ) , but anything except the beefsteak is close to mess food.
The other hangout “Forum” is what people also called Inox. Apart from the movie itself, some people claim to see the “crowd” over there. I personally agree with Pal, who says that “The Fat Chick” is an extinct species in most of the country except Calcutta. It
is enormous fun though, to see the Bengali family in action. The henpecked husband, the chattermouth wife, and the pestering kids. You can’t avoid em. You will have at least one quarrel every two trips coz of some obscure reason. ( one that we had was coz we’d asked for the A/c to be turned off as some of us were down with cold. Some hoity toity auntieji or bhabhiji decided to show of her
Angrezi skills to us. One just thought that suffering and joy knew no language… alas. This also happens if you so much as touch a guy on one of the rickety overcrowded bus. I stopped traveling by bus after a certain 5 foot guy started giving me a lecture thinking I wanted to hit him on his head with my chin).
Should one even begin to talk about shops closing at 9, of the huge siesta’s which shopkeepers take, of the fact that people always talk to you in bong, even if you asked a question in hindi? ( there is no Bengali who can’t talk in hindi, though some come close).
In the match at eden gardens, my college contingent had almost come to blows with the people behind us, coz we used to stand up and cheer every Indian boundary ( Apparently, unless dada hits one, you aren’t supposed to stand.). the only cheer for any Indian came when they displayed ganguly’s score on the electronic scoreboard. Oh yeah, when dravid was out, there was such an enormous cheer that it made me question whether India is a country at all??
Sounds like the city of joy doesn’t it?
~Somanxo
PS: hope I don’t have to eat my words. Will have to if I get placed here.
Please pray for me if you are a well wisher.