When you live half way across the world, you really gain perspective. Of who your loved ones really are and who your fair weather friends seem to be. When you're not around everything changes. People change, feelings change, relationships change but most of all...the city changes....
Born and bred a true Bangali, it is hard to quench my thirst for all that is identified with my culture. The maach-bhaat, Pujo, pollution, clash of old and new, rosogollas and ultimately PUCHKA! All of these eventually get rolled into one big ball of Bengali-ness and thrown into the corner of my memory while I live in a foreign land and try to enjoy the foreign-ness.
When I say the city changes, I obviously refer to Kolkata, my hometown. When I say it changes, I don't mean it physically changes even though I'm sure in the year I've been away, it has physically evolved and grown. What I mean is, it's place and stature in my mind changes everyday until the point where it is just a romanticized figment of my imagination. I am sure this holds true for every individual that leaves their country in pursuit of better things in another.
At this point, even though it has only been 10 months, I have forgotten the heat, the pollution, the traffic, the population, the poverty and all those seemingly unpopular aspects of my city. What I remember and hold close to my heart is the the pulsating energy of the city, the taste of cool lebu'r jol on a hot summer's day, the smell of khichuri wafting through my house on a rainy monsoon day, the pomp and fanfare of Pujo in October, the brightly lit streets of Park Street, the bussle of New Market, the delicious Chinese at Jimmy's Kitchen, the warmth of friendship in Coffee House, the crowded metros at 5pm, the chaat outside Lake Kalibaari, the tranquility of Mosque Island, the memories at the Hanging Bridge, the late night chats on Madhu's chhaat, the delicious aroma of Ma's chilli chicken, those wonderful evenings of Pol Science tuition, cold coffee and gossip, the broken hearts and the mended ones, the budding affairs and the dying ones, those friends that once were just a phone call away, the loud and wonderful rumble of baba's voice, the sizzling of ma cooking in the kitchen, the sound of the TV over Sumit's laughter, the houses of friends and family, the old world feel of North Calcutta, the life and energy of South Calcutta, the soulful music at Someplace Else, the calming effect of Daab Sarbat at Paramount, the institution that made me who I am today, La Martiniere, the adventures Mad, Shreya, PD and I shared, the shops on Bye-Pass we stopped at, Ma's voice floating over my stereo, Dugs' frantic typing on the PC, Kalpi and Minu Mashi hovering around to help, Mohan da's broken tooth, the regattas and regatta nights, rowing on the lakes, finding a best friend, winning BRC 4years straight, finding love and letting go, bonfires and New Year's Eves, Christmas Parties at Raji and Jayatri's, Magic Moments at Debu Motel, slumber parties and family.....
The list goes on of what I think of when someone merely utters 'Kolkata'. It's a feeling unlike any other and it's hard to understand unless you've been away. I go back to that city of my dreams in 2 weeks and I know my romance will be shattered but for now I'd like to think of Kolkata as my Utopia and home as Paradise....
