The City of Joy

I grew up in Jaffna, and as a teenager, my sources of information were Tamil weeklies and monthlies from Tamil Nadu, India.  I was aware of developments in Tamil Cinema and Tamil Nadu Politics.  I probably knew more about Tamil Nadu than an average citizen of Tamil Nadu.  Tamil Nadu publications in the sixties were largely pro-Congress, praised Gandhi and Nehru, but the Cinema was tilting towards the Dravidian movement.  That too I followed closely, developed respect for EVR, CNA, MK, and MGR.

Beyond these leaders, I read about Bose, Tagore, Ray, Mother Teresa, Swami Vivekananda and Swami Ramakrishna Parama Hamsar.  They all had one thing in common – they called Calcutta – Kolkata, the City of Joy, Home!  Despite travelling across the Indian sub-continent, and having been to all states from Baluchistan, Pakistan to Kulna of Bangladesh, I haven’t had the opportunity to visit the State of West Bengal, home of Kolkata.  This changed last month when I managed to spend 36 hours in Kolkata.

Queen Victoria Building, Kolkatta

After checking in at a hotel near the airport, I decided to venture out around noon on a Friday afternoon.  I was looking for downtown, and Google said that the City Center is about 5 km away.  I Ubered my way there.  I assumed it would be the ‘downtown', and I was wrong.  It did not resemble India at all.  I have seen modern malls amid congested areas of Delhi, but this City Center was very different.  It is next to a very modern freeway on a service road, just the way you expect to see in the western world.  It is a mid-size mall, a five-story building, with all modern and fashionable boutiques, cinemas and restaurants.  It even had a cricket practice net on its rooftop.  Cricket Crazy Indians, I murmured.  A Khadi shop attracted my attention, bought a couple of Khadi shirts, thinking of Gandhi; treated myself to some Bengali sweets and a Masala Chai.  Then I had no more interest in the mall. 

A Cricket Practice Net on Top of a Mall

Hired a Taxi for the next stop and told the driver that I wanted to see Howrah bridge and go pass the Howrah Railway station – key landmarks of Kolkata.  As I neared Howrah, I witnessed the Indian Kolkata again.  Crowded & congested, traffic jam, trams, Ambassador-Taxis and the works.  This part of India must have been a posh area at one time.  For some reason, the streets reminded me of Paris, both sides with four to five-story apartments built at least 100 years ago.  Pedestrian walk areas were occupied by squatters or hawkers.  We finally reached Howrah station, but it was only about 5 pm, and the evening is still young.  The Taxi driver was not interested in leaving me, he offered to take me to other places, and we agreed that he will take me to Ramakrishna Mutt, which was on my list to do next day.

The Hoogly River from Ramakrishna Mutt  - Shri Dakshineswar Temple in the background

I was very glad that I went to the Mutt when the sun was about to set.  The Mutt is along the Hooghly River, a distributary of mighty Ganges.  There were libraries, museums and eateries.  The main shrine reminded me of Sultan Qaboos Mosque in Muscat.  Some exceptional architecture.  I spent time quietly, enjoying the breeze from the river and the tranquillity a shrine could offer.  An elderly western woman (probably my age) started conversations if I am an Indian.  When her friend, an Indian lady, probably in her eighties realized that I am from Sri Lanka, she started chatting about Sri Lankan politics and state of its cricket.  Neither were great at the moment, I must admit.  I returned to the Hotel and had a quiet evening.

Ramakrishna Mutt

The next day was India’s Republic Day.  The hotel I stayed was a part of a ‘Colony’, in the West known as a housing complex.  Well-dressed middle-aged and elderly residents gathered around an empty swimming pool with a flag mask.  I realized that they were about to celebrate Republic Day and wanted to be a part of it.  Quickly got dressed and went to the gathering.  Together, they sang the National Anthem, an elderly man hoisted the flag, then they sang more patriotic songs, and served sweets to all.  The National Pride was in everyone face.  I got back to my hotel room, and watched the celebrations in Delhi, the parade and of course the PM walking at the end to greet some of the visitors and giving them high-fives!

Republic Day Celebration at a Colony

It was time for me to check out and I still have about 10 hours for my flight.  Hired a Taxi and went to Mother Theresa’s home.  It was very simple, clean, and there were a shrine, museum and the tomb of the mother.  Mother's bed/office room is kept the way it was.  It's hardly more than 3 m by 3 m in space, a single bed with a thin mattress, wooden desk, meeting table and a wardrobe were arranged neatly within it.  A Crown of Thorn was hanging on the wall, said to be the one the mother was looking at as she passed away.  She lived in this room all her life, the room did not have air conditioning.  World leaders, including the Pope, met her in this room.  I realized the meagre materials we need for our living, yet our wants are unlimited, leading to enduring pain.  I became emotional and promised myself that I will treat every human being with due respect.  I think that was the lesson, the Mother was trying to preach. 

The Mother is IN!

Mother Theresa's Tomb

I continued to fulfil my tourist duties, stopping at the Queen Victoria Palace, the Eden Gardens, St Paul’s Cathedral, and Birla’s Planetarium.  The disappointing stop was the Kalighat Kali Temple.  It was crowded, full of hawkers and stray dogs within the shrine compound, and ‘thieves’, claiming to be Hindu Priests exploiting worshippers.  What a contrast to the cleanliness and tranquillity Ramakrishna Mutt?  Two Hindu shrines in the same city with contrasting settings.

Kalighat Kali Temple

My final stop was the Mother’s Wax Museum, modelled after Madame Tussaud’s Museum in London.  Most of the Figurines are of popular Bengalis, although there were a few other Indian and International Celebrities.  I was very happy to see the Figurine of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, who led Bangladesh to independence.  Except for the Religion, Pakistanis and Bangladeshis have nothing in common, I think.  As I walked through, I could not resist photographing with Einstein and Julia Roberts.

Sheikh Mujibur Rahman

Now, it’s time for me to depart Kolkatta, the City of Joy, so I headed to the airport!