I had imagined that blogs were periodical momentary things; expressions of a desire to tell. This one keeps coming back though. There is something about the chocolate and the blue of this city that refuses to be kept sealed away. It must be produced with a flourish on the screen.
So what have I been up to, you ask?
I have been reading Chomsky while caught in a road blockade even as Bangla slogans hit my ears, yellow-taxi drivers get down to stretch and beggar girls with sparkly green bangles stare. I have been exploring the nooks and crannies of bookstores for a French dictionary. Forgetting to return food court debit cards and then losing them for good. Awaiting Independence Day and the flag hoisting. Awaiting the left parties' bandh of 20th August which should hopefully shut down the university too. Dabbling with the rain. Hypermarketing. Wondering what charms lie within the National Library, what enchanted objects stand stacked in its shelves.
I've been watching the children of the proletariat, dressed in perfect punk, trying to fly kites at night on dirt mounds. Neon green T-shirt, bandana, ankle length faded light blue jeans, and a blue scarf around his neck, he tugs at th string while the other dressed in the simplicity of singular underwear and golden hoop earrings throws the kite up at the other end. Afar, another kid sits on debris, chucking stones at the kite. And then a fourth appears with long thread, his kite high, and running.
Old men magically appears from behind run down brick walls to gaze at Bangla movie posters. Students of International Relations order fried fish and sit under trees, in front of political posters.
And I have even begun using the word Calcutta. I knew the city would make me change something about myself.
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3 comments:
Spot on Nabila, Kolkata is not even a name, it is just a word and whether it means anything at all even in Bengali I seriously doubt. The city, its character, nuances, et al, whether good, bad or grey (based on the variations, understandably, in individual to individual perceptions), is all about Calcutta and Cal alone.
This is vary a lovely post, it makes me want to visit Calcutta.
Unfortunately, the most intelligent thing I can say right now is : Kal koota, aiyyam a taxi driver in, kal koota. Sorry. Hee.
There were sighs and protests when Cal changed to Kol,with die hard supporters of the anglisized version of the original "village of Kolikata" crying foul.Surely Calcutta wasn't too bad! Change it did but the likes of The Telegraph still defies it and stubbornly keeps calling the city by its old name-- in its mast head, in headlines, in every page-- many times over.But in reality, people here have actually started calling it Kolkata, some albit reluctantly, like we have done so for Chennai and Mumbai(however, Thiruvanathapuram & Udagamandalam still seem to be a far cry). Some people equate it with the English equivalent of the Hindi "Kalkatta" and promptly spell the beautiful city as Kolkatta-- with a "tt", and thats jarring to the eye.
I could'nt stop myself from expressing my thoughts after some wonderful reads about kolkata by you. We're waiting for your post about your first "bandh" experience of Kolkata on 20 Aug'08.Do go out in the city(in the safe confines of a Govt of India car---there wont be any public transport plying) and savour its unique Bandh flavour which also is truly Calcuttan.
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