Every
time I come out of my flight at Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose International
Airport and then on to the roads of the City of Joy, I get a distinct feeling
of being back in my native village. This time as I came out of the airport –
dirty and shabby as usual – and landed bang in the middle of a complete traffic
chaos in a crater-filled dirt track (perhaps ironically called VIP Road), I
could not help being pessimistic. Almost a year back the city welcomed with
great joy and relief a new party into power after 34 years of communist rule - and
the only signs of change are some blue paint and a new-design of street light,
which, I was told, was so designed as it bears a close resemblance to the
electoral symbol of the party in power.
2011 also
marked the centenary of a landmark event, which of course no true Calcuttan
could celebrate. Hundred years back in December, 1911 in a dusty corner of old
Mughal capital, the British Monarch announced shifting of the capital from
Calcutta to Delhi. Calcutta was then the richest and most progressive city east
of Suez. A number of observers have remarked that 1911 marked the exact
beginning of Calcutta’s decline. But even in the 1960s, half a century down the
line, Calcutta was the richest city and West Bengal was the most industrialized
state of the union. Calcutta was, without much doubt, the cultural capital
(minus Bollywood) too. Almost every day I come across – both physically and in
the pages of newspaper - so many non-Bengalis, over 60 of course, who had close
links with the city. It was mostly in terms of education, business and father’s
employment. Calcutta, apart from the rich and middling Marwaris and often
looked-down-upon Biharis and Oriyas, was home to a thriving Anglo-Indian
population, along with sparkling presence of Parsis, Jews, Armenians, Tamils
and others. Except for some Chinese, almost all of them have migrated away.
Today most of the successful Bongs are also found outside Cal – anywhere from
Denver to Dubai, San Jose to Singapore and inside the country, in Bangalore, Hyderabad,
Pune, Bombay…..almost in any metro city, except Calcutta.
 |
| End of history on Park Street? |
Today,
Calcutta is essentially a provincial town – or a sprawling monochrome urban
agglomeration. There is nothing metropolitan about its culture, society or
economy. Internet gives two unique credits to Calcutta – world’s poorest
10-million plus city and the metro city with maximum annual rainfall in the
world – I don’t know whether the statistics are correct but no doubt, they instantly
conjure up some of the more well-known visual images of the city.
City is the
greatest innovation of human beings. A city represents the essence of a
culture, concentration of knowledge and functions as the engine of economy. It
is no wonder that both the Anglo-French words – City and Civilization – come
from the same Latin root. Growth or for that matter, decline of a great city,
therefore, has to be seen in the context of the civilization it represents. From
a silted Port to dilapidated palatial houses of North Calcutta to rusting
workshops of Howrah - all point to an utter collapse of the economic foundation
of that civilization. Without that base, it is no surprise that Bengali culture
today looks more like a shallow and stagnated pool.
I spent a
week in Calcutta, on an average covering 10 kilometres in two hours – as a
result I ended up spending more time on the road than meeting people. If you
dare to stand at the Science City crossing for more than 10 minutes, you risk
being choked to death. Forget AC, finding a taxi with a clean seat was
impossible - foremost factor was of course whether he would be kind enough to
take you onboard. Public space belongs to anyone but the hapless public and the
entire city resembles a giant open-air garbage dump.
 |
| Street kids celebrating Saraswati Pujo - none of them goes to school |
My last
day in Calcutta was incidentally the day of Saraswati Puja – Valentine’s Day
for Bengali youngsters. Travelling across the city – from Howrah to Rashbehari
and then to Salt Lake and then back to Howrah through North Calcutta and then
again to Central Calcutta – I saw scores of boys mostly in Pajama – Punjabi
(kurta) and girls, invariably in (mom’s) saree. As they went around giggling,
trying to balance new heels and very conscious about their first saree (Ami
tokhon nobom sreni/Ami tokhon prothom saree…), Calcutta definitely looked a
more vibrant place. I am sure the day would have brought new colours to a whole
lot of them. I would not deny that some of them with shampooed hair and large,
dark Bengali eyes did remind me of an almost forgotten singer called Nachiketa
after a long time – Hotat khola chule, hoyto moner bhule, jokhon takato se
obohele…..hazaar kobita….
Yet I
could not help noticing absence of a dash of glamour – to put it differently,
twenty years back this crowd I would have expected at Rishra than Rashbehari. A
friend observed that today there is more socio-economic and cultural energy in
South-suburban Calcutta (Behala-Bashdroni-Garia) and suburbs along the Sealdah
and Howrah local train lines – from Agarpara to Srirampore. Their benchmark of
success – a house/flat, steady job for son/daughter (ideally school service –
Rail, Bank PO or WBCS is a significant improvement), Kerala trip in October and
may be a small car. Neighbourhood hero is the software engineer currently
abroad – hopefully he would be back before Pujo (never mind Durga Puja is just
nine months away) - para club is going to celebrate its 60th anniversary with great fanfare. Kasturi Sweets makes phabulaas Hinger Kachuri
and Chicken Manchurian at Aheli Café is ‘almost like Tangra’ – slices of life
seen in established middle class Calcutta perhaps twenty years back. And that
Calcutta now appears a pensioners’ ghost town – children settled abroad, annual
trips, daily phone call or Skype – empty nest.
Eight of
us – college batchmates – met at Flurys on a Saturday evening. Flurys was then
transformed into Pramoda’s canteen for the next couple of hours. There is
nothing like an adda with old pals to improve the quality of one’s existence.
You can still largely ignore pollution, traffic and a host of other maladies as
you sit down with some hot Kaapi at a non-descript South Indian joint with old
friends or some delectable Mochar ghonto at Bhojohori Manna with another. This
remains the greatest redeeming feature of Calcutta – its people.
Calcutta
ultimately remains a bitter-sweet memory like your first love. She held out so
much promise. Even today you wonder why Calcutta’s potentials are not realized
to any extent. Why can’t we at least have clean sidewalks, motorable roads and
less pollution? This – without any political agenda – itself will bring some
business and with it job and talent back to the city. So many us would have
been really happy to be back in this city for good – in the absence of basic
amenities and lack of opportunities, that option simply does not exist today. After
so many years you don’t really remember why did you have that fight on that
Saraswati Pujo day – millions of years ago – you still pine for her. Kolkata
jodi satti tilottama hoto!!
