Kolkata is the city of my
cherished childhood days. My Kolkata memories have always been a special part
of who I am today…colorful snippets of thought sewn together by loving bonds to
create a rich tapestry of unforgettable memories.
For us Bongs, far away from
home, Kolkata beckons to us with the nostalgia of days gone by. When I share my
childhood stories with my son, it’s a mesmerizing world of enticing sights,
sounds and tastes to him…and a mystical sensory journey down memory lane to me.
I tell my son about the
sultry summer days, weeks of no-school and no-homework. Lazy long afternoons
spent reading in the latticed verandahs - the sun casting lacy shadows on the
bright red floors, the antique grandfather clock chiming away the hours. Sneaking
up to the terrace to taste deliciously sour mango pickles, playing in the tiny,
dingy room tucked away in the corner of roof - the cool musty smell of ages
past surrounding me, I'd sit there waiting to be discovered while we play hide
and seek.
I share with my son, vivid
descriptions of the monsoon rains, flooded streets - wading through knee-deep
water…These sound so strange to him that he can only stare at me wide-eyed,
trying hard to visualize what I described. I also remember the hot cups of tea
with spicy pakoras - a staple during rainy evenings and of course, steaming
plates of delicious khichuri for lunch.
Durga Puja is yet another
unforgettable memory from my days growing up. Autumn would creep in, with blue
skies seemingly washed clear by the rains, the sound of pujor dhaak and the
smell of dhoop dhuno in the cool air…the whole city decked in lights and color,
fervent prayers to the goddess for all things unattainable - a sense of peace &
contentment, a wonderful time for us all.
Rum Balls from Nahoum's |
Then came the chilly, clear
winters, special memories of Christmas, decorations, walks down Park Street,
fruit cake from “Nahoum's”, invariable visits to the zoo, family picnics on the
grass, goodies to share – and the fresh citrusy smell of oranges, as we peeled
them, juices trickling down our fingers!
The year would wind up with
schools reopening but we had Saraswati Puja to look forward to. The spring season
was heralded by vibrant hues of red, yellow and orange to match the offering of
marigolds to the goddess, a time for budding romance in the neighborhood – some
lovelorn “Paara r dada” pursuing his elusive ladylove, all the girls dressed in
their first yellow sarees participating in the neighborhood cultural programs.
Just as these evoke my
Kolkata memories, for my husband, Kolkata is all about good food. The city has
always tempted the discerning Bengali palate with its array of delicacies. My husband’s
fondest memories are of delicious mishti from “Bhim Nag”, elaborate meals during
family celebrations and hot “kochuri – tarkari” on Sunday mornings with orange,
syrupy “jeelipies”. He can talk dreamily about these for hours.
Jilipi or Jalebi |
This is why my cousins who
have had to relocate to other Indian cities roam the streets like lost souls in
their quest to discover “authentic Bengali cuisine” outside Kolkata and when
they find some quaint Bong eatery tucked away in a corner of Mumbai, there is a
triumphant post on their Facebook page announcing their success!
This culture and ethos of
the city can be felt by us Bongs alone. The spirit and
pace of the city, the incessant traffic and noise, the adda sessions with
beloved friends – are all integral parts of Kolkata. So to end my sojourn, I
just want to say wherever I am, I love you Kolkata – my Kolkata of painted
green shutters, yellow cabs, azure autumn skies and gray monsoon rains. This is
the Kolkata of my dreams!