slowly down the hooghly

I am about to collapse over the keyboard at the internet cafe... I packed as much as possible into my sightseing day in Calcutta.

 

I got up early and made it out of the hotel just after 8. Walked down Park Street --- all empty on this Sunday morning --- and visited the South Park Street Cemetary... housing the ruined and warped mausoleums of the British dead. Sad and poignant and beautiful... Then on the Flury's --- an Art Deco tea room, and like so many other things in Calcutta, a legacy of the British. Chocolate croissant for breakfast, and a strong cup of tea --- not chai!

 

Before I went to the cemetary, I encountered a man who seemed like he had wandered out of an Amitav Ghosh novel (I'm sure there are many such characters in this city). Older, fair-skinned, obviously working a "scamming money from tourists in a genteel and interesting way" scheme... "If you have no connections and have not the caste, you cannot find work in this city. I came here 28 years ago from Bihar. My father was English. My mother, Burmese. I am a mix, you see... I live here on this corner with my friends." He certainly didn't look Bihari, and I don't doubt that his heritage was true... I wished him good luck and went on my way.

 

I then took a long, long walk. Long. Long. Past the Maidan, the vast expanse of green in the middle of the city, where boys play cricket and wedding carriage horses graze --- along with a herd or two of goats. Made my way past many monuments, in and out of privilage and destitution... the only way yo see a city is on your feet. Eventually I made it to Babughat, where I got on a rusty and decrepit but almost empty ferry for a leisurely ride down the Hooghly River to the other side, near the train station. Once there, I walked across Howrah Bridge back to the side I came from, stopping for a drink of fresh cocnut water on the way. At the bottom of the bridge is the flower market and so I plunged in there, furiously taking photos of the riot of colours --- and the occasional flower vendor as well. Stopped at a ghat near the market and delighted some naked children (fresh from their "bath" in the river... I put bath in quotes since the water is wet but very dirty) by taking their photos.

 

Then through the mostly empty streets. What was nice about doing my tour on a Sunday was that I could wander without being jostled... the business area surroudning BBD Bagh was all shut up (as weere most of the shops on Park Street). I admired the colonial architecture, thought of what it must of been like once. I admired the rusty trams, thought of what they must have been like once! After stopping in St Andrew's Church (once the Scottish church) and reading the memorial stones of more dead British people, I hopped in a cab. Another benefit of a Sunday was that there was no traffic! Usually, traffic is a mess here. (It was on the way from the station yesterday.) Hurtling down the empty streets in the old 1950s style yellow cab, we reached the posh neighborhood I was heading to shortly --- the Forum Mall on Elgin Road, where I would find an Anohki store and a restaurant called, yes, "Oh, Calcutta!"

 

The mall was... a mall. A small mall, filled with prosperous and often chubby people enjoying their Sunday. A movie theatre was there, scent of popcorn in the air. After a little browsing I took my seat in the fancy restaurant, where the lunch buffet was fantastic (about rs 500, which is about $10). A wonderful assortment of yummy Bengali food to try... I've forgotten the names, but it was really good and gave me a chance to sample lots of different things.

 

Then I ran off by taxi to the Victoria Memorial, which was grander than I expected... a beautiful building in lovely groomed gardens, with some really interesting exhibits, especially the one on the history of the city. One thing that did seem strange to me is that most of the history exhibit was only in English --- not in Hindi and Bengali as well. But at least I enjoyed it!

 

Then, the memorial closed with lots of clanging of bells and we were ushered out into the dusk. After hanging out in the gardens a bit, I headed off to finish my shopping. And, as I often seem to do, I decided to walk rather than get in a cab, even though I was tired. And though it might have been more sensible to get a cab, walking allowed me to:

 

Happen upon what I assume is the main arts complex, with a performnce hall (crowds outside waiting to get in to see a play) and a fine art gallery with several shows by local painters

Stop into the main cathedral (forget the name!). More British dead.

Walk past the plantarium, which looks like it was modelled on Sanchi.

Stop in at the famous Haldiram snack sellers and buy an assortment of barfi. And get a gigggle when I saw that their slogan is "a taste that is a hundred years old". The gloomy looking barfi-selling boy also got a giggle once I pointed out how it sounded like their sweets were 100 year old.

 

And then I got to Fabindia, my destination. Some shopping, a taxi back to Park Street. Off to have kathi roll and then to bed. I fly to Agartala to meet up with the troupe tomorrow.

 

x m