Pujo 2010

Here I am stuck in Chennai during the Pujo season and Im so sad that I could cry. Which non-resident Kolkatan does not feel this way during this season. The pandal here is crowded by fellow Bongs, and food stalls, and sponsor stalls, and lets not forget- the thakur. But the crowd only reminds me of the teeming throngs on Deshapriya Park or Ballygunj/ Gariahat roads past midnight on pujo days. The food stalls are nothing compared to even my para pujo foodstalls. The egg rolls are better, the mutton chop is spicier, the fish kobiraji more crisp, and the mishti- a-ha aaa-ha. A Bong woman will go gaga over mishti in any form but Kolkata-r mishti!!! Class apart. And the idol itself? A mere doll compared to the fairy tales being woven all over my city. But sigh, I remain content to view the sea in the dewdrop. And promise vehemently never to miss Kolkata Pujo again, ever again.

Chennai has two main Pujo. One in Besant Nagar/ Adyar and another in T Nagar. Like the true Kolkatans, my husband and I, and the little one, went pandal hopping. Hop, and we were done. Well, what with TWO pujo-s and all. The oldest pujo in Chennai is in a place called Kalibari but I dont know where that is. The T nagar pujo seems to have lesser food stalls, but luchi- chholar daal - jilipi breakfast is available even at 1 am. The bhog will start in some time. So we take coupons and wait. The sound of the dhaki finally, finally, puts my heart to rest on Nabami morning, and closing my eyes, I finally feel I am home.

The Besant Nagar pujo is my para pujo in Chennai. It used to be walking distance from my house, but this year its shifted a bit farther but to a more spacious locale. The atmosphere here is "gharowa", festive, lots of laughter, lots of food. I am pulled there two times a day. I dont give anjali, so thats not on the iteranary. I just go and roam around, soaking in the atmosphere, a mere reflection of the Kolkata spirit, but at least, within the confines of this pandal, I can feel it. Otherwise the city of Chennai is bereft of any festivity, and especially at this time- seems naked, bare faced. My daughter is riveted by Durga-s lion, this year as every other. But this year I explain to her the concept of Good over Evil and she seems to understand. My parents are believers. They pray twice a day. We have the usuall Lakshmi/ Saraswati pujo at home too, and my father himself becomes priest for the day. But they never forced their belief on me. I developed a belief system all my own. And my daughter can have hers. Temple, idol, heaven, heart, service- she can choose her own path to God. That was my promise to her.

The show-off here is not too much. Sarees are still basic cotton, and lots of people in jeans around. The women who are decked in finery sort of stand out. On Dashami, the saree I wore for dinner seems too dressy for the ocassion but who cares, this is Durga Pujo and Bongs all over the world would be going OTT (over the top) at this time. The dashami bhog is limited to members of the Association, called South Madras Cultural Association but actually comprising of Bengalis in the area. My husband has not had bhog this year, what with being out of station on work for the first two days, and being at work the next two. He HAS to have bhog. So he pays money and takes membership. Now we are proud members of SMCA and we also got to have bhog, and to top it, dinner on Dashami, invitation to Lakshmni and Kali Pujo.

So, finally, now that the puja is over and Im not missing Kolkata any more, I look forward to the other puja-s here so I can go and have some more Bengali khana-peena and strut around some more in my sari-s.

Kolkata 25th cleanest city in India

I stand vindicated people... few days back I had finally, the chance of phoning my Mumbai based friend, who keeps complaining when he comes to Kolkata, about how dirty the city is, (with turned up nose, no less), and telling him, dude... your city is dirtier and now the world knows it. The sugar sweet taste of revenge.

For now there is a list which says Kolkata is the 25th cleanest city in India, which Mumbai is, hold your noses... 45.

Kolkatans have some more reasons to cheer. Salt Lake or Bidhan Nagar is at No 16, even Serampore, which is my home town, is at 30. Cant imagine, can any town be any dirtier than Serampore??? Yeah, MUMBAI can!!!! Heh Heh Heh! In fact, 400 odd other towns and cities can be dirtier than Serampore... the survey covered 423 cities and towns.

The first on the list, Chandigarh and the dirtiest town... Churu in Rajasthan, who lives there... how?

Here is the complete list  for you to check out how your city or town fared.
http://im.rediff.com/news/2010/may/rank-of-cities-on-sanitation-2009-2010.pdf

Oh my darling Kolkata, Where have you disappeared??

Lets get right to the brass-tacks, shall we?

My last three days in Kolkata.

Day 1- I had to take baby to the hospital. Park Street- Neotia Hospital. On the way back I had taken the Anwar Shah road route. Road closed. We thought that this was a routine road block by the locality people, its common in this area. So we drove down some alleys to Ashutosh Mukherjee road, the plan was to go straight down to Tolly Metro, where my house is located. Tollygunj Phari crossing- A band of people, holding hands just closed down the street as we cruised to a stop at the crossing, one of the first cars to be stuck. Traffic bearing down behind us already. I got down and asked the police officers how long it would take. "Only they know, sister" is what he said to me. "THEY"- Trinamool Congress supporters, and their chakka jam. This was a spot where I was not familiar with any detours. But the offier pointed out a narrow alley and said you can take this and see what happens. So before our tail got completely blocked we decided to go for it. At 2 pm with a hungry sleepy baby in the car, to think of standing there for an hour or two hours... unthinkable. The narrow alley became narrower and people who moved fast enough were all in there, but we got through it, after much shouting at errant rickshaw drivers, and more silent prayers, we reached home, and lunch.

Day 2: My in laws place is in Brahmapur, near Bansdroni in Tollygunj. Its about 4 kms from my parents place at Tolly Metro. And easy to reach if you know the inside roads. This day there is a "bandh" in that area, south of the canal, by the 'ruling party' CPM, so that much tougher to get through. I have a baby in the car, travelling from my inlaws to my parents. I was stopped thrice, the third time they wanted to see my id card. And when I said Im taking my child to the hospital they refused to believe me. I said how dare youstop a woman with a toddler in a car. They got a bit hassled. And when I shouted some more, shaking with anger, they let me pass, to freedom. For a moment, I felt trapped, imprisoned in my own city. For a moment, I realised how some men and women, one group of people with nothing to do on a weekday morning, can hold millions of people to ransom, making them walk miles with baggage and children to reach schools, and offices. For a moment I shed some tears to what my beloved haven of freedom had come to, a dear city, fighting for survival between some bands of ruffians, illiterate, semi-literate, who think nothing of stopping ambulances, and people who want to work, and people who just have to work to get their daily bread.

Day 3: My flight to Chennai is at 5 pm. I come out at 2 pm from the house, the plan is to pick my father from his office in Esplanade and reach airport. Park Street flyover at 2.30, we grind to a halt midway up the flyover. It takes us the next hour to reach Esplanade crossing. Trinamool again, they have closed up one side of the road for a rally. And thousands of cars in the busiest crossing of Kolkata waited patiently for hours to let the police get them through one tiny strip left open, one car at a time. The poor Kolkata police force. Kudos to them. When they retire they would have been there done it all... probably not as adept at encounters as the Mumbai police, but world-best in handling bandhs and rasta roko-s and chakka jams of all kinds. I did make it to the flight, reaching the airport at 4.45, the last possible minute. And they allowed us on, the last passengers, because I had called and told them I was stuck in a Trinamool rally with a kid. Everyone knows about it. Everyone in Kolkata.

Everyone in Kolkata now sigh once again when they hear about another bandh. They curse beneath their breath, all those who will not let a city rise from its ashes. They hang their heads when their colleagues from other cities laugh, they try to laugh and joke along with them. But in the end they know that they are the ones to blame. To have stayed at home during bandhs, fearing lathi bearing toughs- the political supporters, who would beat on the cars and deflate tyres. To have been afraid of being threatened on the road.

As a Kolkatan, Im sorry to say, I am ashamed of what my city has allowed to be done to herself. Im ashamed of myself and of all those I know who has not raised their voice. I fought the toughs to get my daughter and me through... What if we all shouted, if we all screamed, if we all cried out- CHOLBE NA CHOLBE NA... No- you cannot keep me from my work, from my play, you cannot force me to be home for fear, you cannot keep my freedom from me, from us, from all us Kolkatans... if only we could...