Kolkata Trip 2013 - Tuesday, October 8th

Today, we were going to get an internet connection for my mother-in-law.  They earlier had a desktop computer with internet connection, but after electrical fluctuations caused a premature death for their modem while old age accounted for the desktop, they had not bothered to upgrade, i.e., until now.  Ranji had bought a tablet, a Viewsonic, from Singapore after getting inspired following a Skype session we had with my brother there.  She got him to buy one and send it through to India via my parents who had gone visiting to Singapore.  With the tablet in hand, we went to Tollygunge Phadi to take a Vodafone connection. Before starting from Behala, we went to see our first pandal of this year’s puja.  Sreesanga Club, which is very close to Ranji’s house, always has Nava Durga (nine forms of Durga) in their pandal.  While the pandal as such was not very attractive, the idols were very beautiful.

Being technologically challenged, we had assumed that the tablet would only require a wireless dongle.  Only upon reaching the Vodafone store did we realize that this particular tablet (or was it Android OS, I’m not sure) did not support a wireless dongle.  Getting this knowledge, in typical Kolkatan fashion, took a couple of hours and only after we had taken the connection.  Now, we had no option but to convert that to a phone connection to ensure it did not go to waste.  By the time we finished at the Vodafone store, it was past 3.  Hunger, in addition, to the crowd, was not helping in improving my mood.

While Ranji’s mom and I came back home, Ranji went to meet another of her school friends, Shibani.  We picked up a pot of mishti doi (sweet curd) on our way back home. I managed to clean up half of it in one sitting and could have gone on, but the shift of waist size from 30 to 32 was on the back of my mind.  A couple of hours later, when she was on her way back, Ranji called us and told that the crowds at Nutan Dal, an award-winning puja in the previous years, was relatively free and we could go visit the pandal.  My mother-in-law and I got ready, and once Ranji was back, the three of us were off again.  Nutan Dal was slightly disappointing, though.  It was the same old village-based theme at their pandal.  While the finished product was good, it was the lack of variety that was disappointing.

After Nutan Dal, it was back to the same old shopping.  If Gariahat had seemed terrible yesterday, Behala was impossible today.  The crowd seemed to have increased with people hurrying to finish their puja shopping.  I quickly removed the cloak of civility as I too enthusiastically joined the pushing and shoving.  Not being well-versed in the art of shopping, my amateurish attempts were quickly overwhelmed by the more experienced Bangla babus and didibhais.  Soon, I begged Ranji and her mom to return back because I just about had enough of sweaty bodies pushing me in the four directions.  Taking pity at my condition, they decided to return back home.

Kolkata Trip 2013 - Monday, October 7th

Monday was the day we were going to embark on our shopping.  The morning was spent in packing Ranji’s dad off to his office.  After that, around 11, the remaining three of us got ready to go to Gariahat.  We got a taxi, gave him our destination, and assumed he would know the easiest route to get there.  I’d like to believe that he was ignorant about the best route because if he was attempting to milk us for some extra rupees, he did pay a price for it because we got caught in some terrible traffic snarls.  By the time we reached Gariahat, my mood was borderline irritable.

If the ride through vehicular traffic was irritating, the walk through human traffic was harrowing.  Street hawkers in Gariahat have occupied most of the footpath, making walking through them a challenge.  Add to that the throng of Puja shoppers and I was beginning to wonder if I made the right decision to accompany the ladies. Ranji was enjoying the pushing and shoving but she kept cribbing about the Kolkata heat.  I was happy to bear the heat and humidity only if the others in Gariahat would just stop banging into me.

After powering our way through the army of shoppers, we finally reached our destination – RMCA Basak.  Even I love coming to Basak because it has an old-world charm about it.  They haven’t expanded to a chain yet and treat their customers as special, not to mention having some of the best Bengal Cotton sarees I have seen.  We were there for almost a couple of hours, picking up 5-6 sarees.  We then moved on to Pantaloons to make use of a gift voucher my mother-in-law had.  After converting the gift voucher into a pair of trousers for me, we moved on.  This was also the first time I had moved on from a waist size of 30 to 32 (inches) in over a decade.  I have made a mental note to join a gym as soon as we are back in Bangalore.

Shopping done, we went to Bedouin Restaurant for our lunch.  Coming from Bangalore, one is surprised with the décor, or the lack of it, in most of the Kolkatan restaurants.  That, though, was made up by the quantity.  Between the three of us, we were able to only finish one bowl of fried rice.  We got them to parcel us the remaining food and rushed out, hoping to catch a taxi soon because it had begun drizzling.

Kolkata is not a very clean city.  It feels old, the buildings look grimy, the roadsides are dirty, the dustbins are overflowing, there is betel juice stains everywhere.  All of that becomes worse when it rains.  This time, I am getting to experience the Kolkata rains for the first time.  Despite it not being seasonal showers, the intensity is definitely there.  The rains reminded me of the Kerala rains I experienced during my childhood.  Here, though, the rain does not make the land look cleaner; it makes it look dirtier.

Once we reached Behala, we let Ranji’s mom go back home while we went to visit one of Ranji’s close friend, Monia.  Ranji and Monia have been friends from their school days, and the years and the distance has not really affected their friendship.  They constantly keep in touch and stay abreast of the happenings in each other’s lives.  We were seeing Monia’s kid, though, for the first time.  She took about 10 minutes to get used to the new faces but soon started playing with us.  When we left their house a couple of hours later, she seemed very sad to see us go.  We did set up yet another meeting with Monia because we hadn’t had enough of playing with her kid.

By the time we reached back, the only thing in our mind was bed.  Ranji’s mom, on the other hand,  is indefatigable.  After reaching her house and dumping our shopping, she had gone back to the market to get some fresh produce to cook delicious curries for her daughter and son-in-law.  It is a tragedy that neither her daughter nor her son-in-law is gastronomically inclined.  Despite that, Ranji’s mom never tires of cooking different items for both of us when we come visiting.  Tired in spirit and with a bloated stomach, we both went to sleep.

Kolkata Trip 2013 - Sunday, October 6th

Sunday morning started with a lively debate. Ravi Uncle, who had come to the house early in the morning, and Ranji’s dad got into a discussion about the different Malayalee forums in Kolkata.  As is the case with Malayalees, the need to form federations or forums  of like-minded individuals was only second to their need to split the federations or forums further based on the complex regional and religious fabric of Kerala.  The fact that they are so far away from Kerala, in a place where no one really understands the complexities of Malayalee way of living seem to not deter them.  The discussion was surrounding which forum had better funds and who were better at managing their resources.  However the funds were managed, it was up to my mother-in-law to always do the lion’s share of the work.  This time, she had to prepare Uzhunnu Vada for at least 150 people.  I’ve always felt that these Malayalees formed such forums to get some poor souls to cook good food so that they could all gorge on it and then criticize everything under the sun, including the cook and the food they so very enthusiastically gobbled up.  Like most discussions between us Malayalees, even this ended in an honorable draw without any particular conclusion, but it seemed to make all parties happy.

It was around 10 in the morning when I saw the dreaded Jyothi Uncle for the first time.  He was something of a terror among the Kolkata Malayalee community for arriving at people’s houses during the weekends and planting himself there for the entire weekend. He made it a point to feign ignorance towards subtle hints or direct suggestions that he had overstayed his welcome. Rumour has it that the richer among the Malayalees employ bouncers just to keep him away from entering their homes.

While Ranji’s parents had no chance of escaping the ordeal, we certainly could and did by being out of the house in another hour and a half.  We were going to ITC Sonar to meet Vineet, Tanu and their son Tejas.  We went to Baby Land at Behala market, bought a T-shirt and pants for the child, and went in search of a taxi.  By this time, my dismay at not seeing the Ambassadors was replaced by a joy at seeing so many Ambassadors together.

While the Ambassadors have been known for their sturdy and stable performance on Indian roads, what make them distinct, especially in Kolkata, are its drivers.  We managed to get a rather colourful specimen of this species. Unlike most Kolkatan cab drivers, he chose to drive the car as slowly as possible.  Cycle rickshaws screamed past us and even hand-drawn rickshaws managed to overtake us at some point.  The fact that our driver was constantly wiping sweat from waist up without really removing his shirt and then squeezing out his towel on to the floor of the car was probably one reason why he didn’t want to go any faster. Ranji and I weren’t sure whether to pray for a faster drive or for the sweaty puddle to remain in the front. We somehow did manage to reach ITC Sonar before the end of day.

Vineet and Tanu reached soon after us, and we met Baby Tejas for the first time. He made it clear that he wanted only to be carried by his dad, but he did not mind playing with either Ranji or me as long as we did not attempt to carry him.  From ITC Sonar, we went over to Mani Square Mall to relax and chat. While Vineet, Tanu, and Ranjita chatted, I alternated between conversing with them and playing with Tejas.  After an hour or so, we moved over to the food court to have our lunch.  I realized that the food prices in a mall are more or less the same, be it Kolkata or Bangalore.

After lunch, we waved goodbye to Tejas, Tanu, and Vineet.  We caught a taxi back to Behala.  This guy, though, turned out to be the opposite of the driver we had in the morning.  He either did not have brakes or did not believe in using it, because we just hurtled at breakneck speed through Kolkata roads, narrowly missing mowing down people or crashing on to other vehicles.

The only place we were forced to stop was at an intersection where there was a policeman.  The policeman, though, was busy buying some towels from a pushcart vendor.  When the light turned green while the purchase was going on, he even turned it back to red so that he could complete his transaction in peace!  We reached back home alive and without any further interesting incidents.

Kolkata Trip 2013 - Saturday, October 5th

It was Ranji’s suggestion that I revive my writing by documenting our fortnight-long trip to Kolkata. I love going to Kolkata during the Durga Puja as I feel that is the only time the city has some life and energy, the only time it feels like people are busy and purposeful.  It is almost as if the people try to make up for the city’s various shortcomings by preparing beautiful pandals and attractive idols within them. Walking around seeing the sights while gorging on the numerous food items prepared in the roadside stalls using oil rich in trans-fat and conditions far from hygienic seem to give a high like most illicit pleasures. For once, so, I have decided to not just listen to Ranji but also act upon her suggestion.

SATURDAY, October 5^th

It was around 4:30 a.m. when I woke up first, but it wasn’t until 5:55 a.m. that I decided there was no point in me twisting and turning, trying to wake Ranji up. I prepared a pot of spiced tea and was enjoying it at a leisurely pace before the realization that I hadn’t packed a single item of clothing propelled Ranji out of the bed. With her up, it wasn’t long before my position in front of the TV was changed to in front of an empty suitcase.

Ranji had packed a suitcase with her clothes on October 2^nd, including some old clothes she wanted to give to the maid at my in-laws’ house. One look with my expert eyes was enough for me to unpack everything and repack them in my own manner.  It satisfied me but I don’t think it made any serious difference to the final outcome.

My own suitcase was done within minutes. I zeroed in on the clothes I was carrying without much of a difficulty. The only item needing some deliberation was a T-Shirt with “I’ve graduated from Bar Code to Beer Code” printed on it because of how Ranji’s parents looked at alcohol consumption (but we decided to chance it).

Some of other items, though, was a challenge.  We were carrying a rolling pin and base made of marble as well as few bottles of pickle.  We weren’t very sure whether the threat of them breaking was higher than that of the oil spilling on to our clothes. Either way, the expectation was for us to get the stuff across, and it was always going to be better for all if we got those across, even in broken and/or spilled condition than to leave them behind.  We were to regret our decision later, in a way we did not exactly expect.

Transport to the airport was not a worry because Praveen volunteered to chauffer us. He came on time, along with Namrata and Shlokaa, and we started off from Vignan Nagar at 4:00 p.m.  It was 5:30 by the time we reached the airport, later than we expected.  The delay made us scrap my initial idea of having some snacks and coffee at Café Coffee Day outside the airport.

For once, there was no queue either to enter the airport or at the IndiGo counter. The lady at the counter was not harried, had a pleasant smile, and even seemed happy we chose IndiGo. Ranji and I felt so happy, but it was too good to last. Ignorance hurts all of us at some point, and ours regarding the reduction in maximum weight of check-in luggage from 20 kilos to 15 per person was to hurt us then - we exceeded the check-in luggage weight by 10 kilos and cabin luggage by 4!  She continued to sport a smile when she told us that there could be no compromise in the cabin luggage but told us she would try and be sympathetic towards the plight of our check-in luggage.

Ranji suggested chucking some of the clothes in the dust-bin; instead, I chucked her suggestion into it. By this time, in addition to the shame I was feeling in displaying the intimate and fairly plain secrets of my wardrobe to the entire population inside the airport, Ranji’s plaintive tones was beginning to get on to my nerves. Of course, the irritation was mainly towards myself for not remembering the reduction in maximum limit for luggage, and each time she complained, it seemed to make it worse. Another thing that hurt was the fact that I had laughed at my cousin 12-13 years back when he faced the same predicament for trying to carry an entire grocery store while flying to China, and history was repeating itself with me in the tragic lead role. In the end, we managed to shift some more clothes to the check-in luggage from the cabin luggage and got one of the elephants that came for the Dusshera celebrations to the stand on top of the bag while the two of us closed it.  While we could not avoid the check-in luggage exceeding the limit, we ensured the cabin luggage remained within, checked everything in (after paying an additional Rs. 3000) and collected our boarding passes.

The additional expense seemingly killed Ranji’s appetite, but I insisted on having some snacks.  She would thank me later once we were aboard the IndiGo flight.  In an attempt to make profits without hiking the fares too much, IndiGo seems to be charging even for drinking water! They surely must have made a decent profit from the poor guy who was sitting in front of Ranji. I wasn’t sure about his grasp of English, but the air hostess was pretty with a sweet smile, and she made quite a sale by getting the guy to buy Coke and Chicken Sandwich!

Speaking about the crew, they were one of the most interesting ones I’ve ever seen.  They differed in their size, their age (at least from the looks of it), and made it a point to make every announcement as unclear as possible. Of course, the Captain was very clear, but he only used the system each time he had to cough. At least, he flew the plane better, and we landed at the Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose International Airport on time.

Deplaning, we both were in for a pleasant shock.  In fact, it seemed as if we had gotten down at a different airport.  I mean, this looked like an airport, not like a bus-stand where airplanes landed.  There was no familiar pan- or ghutka-powered spit marks or the constant smell of urine.  It wasn’t until we had collected our baggage that we knew for sure we had indeed landed in Kolkata.

Ranji had gone to the restroom, and she came out from there in fits of giggles.  Apparently, one member of the cleaning staff inside the restroom was cursing a lady who had used the restroom earlier.  Despite she telling the lady to not squat on the floor, she was claiming that the lady did squat on the floor and then had the audacity to refuse that she did anything like that!  She even wondered aloud how someone who couldn’t use the western-style toilet could be flying in an airplane. Ranji and I were happy the lady did not attempt the same when we were flying.

After the initial surprise of seeing a proper airport in Kolkata, we were in for yet another one once we stepped out. The taxi that we had booked to ferry us to Ranji’s parents’ house in Behala was not Kolkata’s signature Ambassador; it was a brand-new Volkwagen Vento! Ranji and I exchanged glances, obviously impressed.  I even wondered aloud if Kolkata was indeed changing and felt a touch of sadness for the disappearing old-world charm. I realized that my sadness was misplaced but it wasn’t until the next day morning.