With a full day planned on the streets of Kolkata I went for the easy start – a nice relaxed breakfast with the Times Of India to read. And then in to thick of it kicking off with a visit to South Park Street cemetery. I couldn’t pass up the chance to ride on India’s only tram (streetcar/trolleybus) which was great fun once I’d figured out where it stopped. The tram wasn’t busy and trundled through the clogged streets. The conductor kindly showed me where to get off but this had already been pointed out to me by Google maps. Kind of takes the fun out of things relying on a device but I guess it makes it more time efficient.
The cemetery opened in the mid-1700’s and was my first true taste of the colonial history of this city. It was one of the world’s first non-religious cemeteries and a fascinating place that in parts, had fallen in to a bit of disrepair, and in others was picture perfect with these enormous grandiose tombs. Unfortunately, other parts of the cemetery were littered with rubbish but overall it was a fascinating, surprising place.
Death was perhaps the theme of the day as I then headed over to the nearby Christian cemetery which said casual visitors were not welcome but I was welcome apparently. The grounds were quiet and peaceful until a mosque, which abutted in to the cemetery, started blasting out a call to prayer. It was quite a startling juxtaposition.
Mindful of the diverse modes of transport in the city, I opted to get an Ambassador taxi, deciding not to negotiate overly aggressively as I figured the driver could do with spending a bit on the maintenance of the ageing vehicle. Notwithstanding the premium paid, it was great fun and my driver was a top guy, full of smiles and proudly announcing our arrival at my destination – Howrah Bridge. So proud he announced it loudly twice.
I was in search of a sign. Not a religious sign. A sign about the bridge that I vividly remember from my visit 25 years ago about the engineering beauty and the need to look after it. I think it was sadly covered up by some hoarding so I will have to dig out the picture when I get home. Stepping out of the taxi I was completely absorbed by the frantic activity coming at me from all directions and at all senses. It was sensory overload and I was pretty much rooted to the spot trying to absorb and process it all. How can it be like this every day and it represents normality when any outside observers see it as the extreme opposite. How come it all works? How come all of these packages being carried on tops of peoples heads and dumped next to lorries 3 deep at the side of the street, find their way to the right places? How come no one appears to get mown down, I saw no minor bumps or collisions, no packages being dropped from the top of someone’s head, no one getting poked bumped or bruised by two men carrying long steel poles. It goes on. That’s why you end up standing there trying to take it all in. It can’t be worked out. It is all part of the ridiculously complex equation that is India. And Kolkata is the cube-root of that.
I navigated crossing the road. Just. That was a little more challenging than the usual city crossings and was greeted by a riot of people and colour and movement and rubbish and noise. Set as a backdrop to what was basically a (colourful) rubbish dump by the side of a railway line was a flower market in glorious technicolour. It captured India perfectly and I got some great shots just before the heavens opened and flowers were quickly covered up, extinguishing the riot of colour beneath me.
It chucked it down for some time and not having found the sign decided to eat at a street side stand, with some freshly made chapatis and some channa (chickpeas) and matter paneer (Indian cheese and peas). A few cups of wonderful Chai made right in front of me with the chai-wallah smashing the spices and stirring up the tea in a huge pot over a charcoal fire and it was absolutely delicious with all of the above costing a little more than Rs100.
By this time the downpour had started to ease off and I headed to take another look at the stunning Victorian GPO which presented some wonderful images of people (men) taking a nap on the white marble floors underneath towering columns capped off with intricate gold painted detail (there’s probably an architectural term for this but afternoon tea has just been served on the Rajdhani Express which I’m now on back to Delhi). Across the road was the former HQ of the East India Company now occupied by a Government department. An official seemed to be upset with me taking a picture of the facade so I walked across the street and “snapped” away without any hassle.
A few blocks round the corner took me to St John Church and the site of Job Charnock’s tomb. Charnock was a controversial administrator of the East India Company and credited with founding Calcutta as a city. The site also contained a memorial to the Black Hole of Calcutta victims and a number of interesting grave/tomb stones. It was well worth the Rs5 entry fee. The church itself was modelled on St Martin in The Field in London and, like St Pauls Cathedral is well worth a visit.
The history of the East India Company interests me and I would like to learn more.
I got my bearings slightly wrong and ended up wandering in the wrong direction and after covering a decent amount of ground by foot, called it quits and got another cab back to serenity and a very refreshing dip in the pool. A beer was in order before heading out to dinner although the bar at Oberoi Grand is not a patch on the Polo Bar at the Oberoi in Bengaluru. I say a beer but I opted for an Indian gin which I had in Bengaluru although at RS1,000 it felt very painful, especially as my dinner cost a little over half.
Slightly against my conscience, I took a human-pulled rickshaw on the basis that by doing so, it gave the man an income and undoubtedly more than he could’ve expected for such a short pull. He gainfully jogged some of the distance and seemed at ease pulling me. Mind you, I am not the heaviest person and wasn’t carrying any additional load, so it was probably a fairly easy 10 minutes for him with a good return.
I had opted for a local Bengali restaurant and again wasn’t disappointed especially with the fish fry and kasundi – a fermented mustard seed sauce which is delicious (a bottle of which is now triple wrapped in plastic bags in my backpack – and I’m sure this will become a household favourite when I get back!).
I walked back through New Market, again getting a fair amount of hassle from shopkeepers and touts, and retreated to the peaceful calm and cool of my room. Once my plan for my final half day in Kolkata had been prepared, I got my head down for another sound night’s sleep.
