Kolkata.
One city. So many memories.
The city I grew up.
The city I Left behind.
The city which still tugs at my heartstrings.
Kolkata engulfs me with a sense of warmth and belonging whenever I am there. The streets, the buses, the trams, the faces all transports me back in time. The city to me is my rear view mirror. It soaks me in nostalgia and longing for things past.
Kolkata serves as this intimate, benign, omnipresent, backdrop for all my childhood memories. Each season in the City year after year opened a new account in my memory bank.
Winter in Kolkata is associated with Kali Puja, Bhaifota, Christmas, Park Street, Cakes, Pastries, visits to the Alipur Zoo, Botanical Gardens and Circus. It also reminds me of trams ambling along beside the Maidan in the early morning mist.
Spring in Kolkata means Saraswati puja and Book Fair. Surprisingly both these are connected to the desire of learning and accumulating knowledge, a colonial legacy borne by us Bengalis.
Summer in Kolkata is synonymous with a relentless sun, loadshedding, football, Bengali New Year and Tagore’s birth anniversary. Vendors roamng in the streets with Kwality ice cream carts used to reign supreme in this season.
Monsoon brings back memories of waterlogging, Rather mela, hot telebhaja and khichuri. The joy of moving on knee deep water logged streets in an oversized gumboot cannot be really described in words.
Autumn is the season when Durga visits Kolkata . The whole city used to reverberate with an infectious sense of revelry during these four days. I am yet to find a city or a festival which can equal the Durga Puja festivities. Durga Puja opens a flood of memories associated with new clothes, pandal hopping, addas, bisarjan and bijoya greetings. The girls in the neighbourhood are suddenly transformed into these Divas which seems magical. Life is beautiful when Ma comes to Kolkata.
Seasons change but the core spirit of the City remains intact in the heart of all Kolkatans.A big chunk of our generation has left Kolkata for greener pastures all over the world. Reality and circumstances was the reason behind this exodus. However unlike some of my friends I refuse to blame Kolkata for promises which her guardians cannot fulfill. Career growth, higher salaries and multiplex culture cannot be compared with genuine unconditional love which I have accumulated in Kolkata. I wish to thank my parents, my teachers, my friends and all those unknown Kolkata citizens who have moulded me for what I am today.
The one thing I love most in Kolkatans is the attitude of casually translating world breaking events and personalities into daily conversation. Any celebrity can be brought down from his/her pedestal nonchalantly by Kolkatans. George Bush, for example has been certified recently by Kolkatans as the official village idiot of the global village.
Kolkata will always remain close to my heart though my head might prefer Bangalore. Nowadays when moments of pure happiness are rare, Kolkata to me is a treasure trove of genuine, unaffected happiness which surprisingly makes me sad.
Kolkata on my shoulder makes me happy
Kolkata on my eyes makes me cry.