I do not live in Kolkata.
Yet, I get nostalgic about the charms of this city. The city's past still lives
in its streets, hand in hand with the city's future. Among all the city's I
have been to and lived in, Kolkata is the only city I can cite which has
managed to pacify its past and its future. Citizens of Kolkata are the rare few
who probably can a verse from "Gitanjali" and can simultaneously describe the batting exploits of the city's favorite son, Sourav Ganguly with zeal and passion.
My connection with this city began during my
schooldays when I first visited the city
with my family. We explored all of the major tourist spots of the city. At that
time, I could only see the dilapidated buildings with archaic construction and
roads resembling more like the surface of Mars. Somehow I felt the city had
never left its past. But, My second visit actually made me rediscover the city.
I was an year older and I got an
opportunity to visit the city for a competition. This time I had come here with
my school teacher and one of my friends. Our four day visit brought me face to
face with the heart of the city.
We had just arrived in the city after a
tiring train journey across India. The sky had cast a grey shadow over the city
when we disembarked from the train. After that, We took a yellow taxi which
took a whooping three hours to reach the hotel. Nothing was going good for us
and we decided to take a break. We went to the city's shopping hub and decided
to indulge in a whole lot of window shopping. I stopped at one peculiar shop,
admiring the toy handicrafts from rural Bengal. In the matter of minutes, I
looked around to find my teacher and friend had vanished.
I was lost in the middle of the busiest
markets in Kolkata. Till that time I had heard of "getting lost" only
in stories and movies. It soon started pouring down and my clothes got drenched
in the rain. Yet, Unlike those stories, I did not start crying immediately. I
looked out for my teacher in the crowd and searched for directions. I could not
find them. I couldn't even understand where I was as all the signboards in the
area were written in Bengali. I was dejected and finally started to cry.
My shrieks drew the attention of people
around me. They asked me various questions but I was hysterical and gave no
replies. But, one person from the crowd seemed to recognize me. He immediately
grabbed my hand and took me to his shop. He was the owner of the toy handicraft
shop I was looking at. He said he would get my teacher as soon as possible and
disappeared into the crowds.
I grew less hysterical and looked around the
shop. The handicrafts in his shop catered only to kids. An hour passed by with
much ease inside the shop and I saw my teacher entering the shop with the
shopkeeper, all drenched. My teacher started to cry on seeing me. I explained
to her how helpful the shopkeeper was to me. She turned to the shopkeeper and
started thanking him profusely. The shopkeeper told her how even he had a son
in a village in interior Bengal and the toys in his shop were actually made by
him for his son. I had reminded him of his son and that had actually moved him
to help me.
Neil Gaiman 's Sandman Series has a part
called the "Tale of two cities", which is a modern adaptation of the
tale of two cities and it brings to the foreground the "Soul" of the city. I
can definitely say this for Kolkata, the city with a soul in these
"soulless" ages ….
