Imagining India Part I: Kolkata

Imagining India

Our planning for the trip's transportation had gone so badly (mainly due to flagrant flaws in the train booking system), we left Singapore not knowing what our exact itinerary will be. Our inability to sufficiently prepare for the more practical aspects of our trip to India was compensated by a good degree of mental preparation. Deciding to accept the view of India as a land where 'everything is possible', we elected to (I quote Xue Wei here) 'let the three million gods take us wherever we are supposed to go'. Xue Wei's advice was for us to let go of our disposition towards planning and control. Only then, she counselled, will we be able to truly enjoy India. She added that 'when you are at your lowest, India will present you with the best option ever'. However, if our travails with train bookings were in anyway a foreboding of our trip, we could be sure that we would be in for a 'helluva' time.

My travel companions: (From Left) Anna, Kenneth, Leo, and Xue Wei

As our plane descended upon Kolkata, I gazed out of the window and was enthralled by the city lights below. The closer we got to the ground, however, I noticed that the city seemed to be enveloped in a thick fog (we were to find out that this was actually smog). I immediately attributed this to the fact that it was winter in India. The nebulous scene below was an accurate reflection of our anticipated trip, symbolising the considerable amount of excitement that it generated beneath the vast degree of uncertainty.

Going past customs, we proceeded to source for a taxi to take us to our guesthouse. Imagine the severe blow that was dealt to our adopted philosophy when we were told that seating five passengers in the cab was 'no possible'. Walking out of the airport, we spotted the line of what are known in Kolkata as 'ambassador cabs', reminiscent of the yellow New York cabs in 'Taxi Driver'. The drive along the streets of Kolkata at night afforded us an introduction to the city's anarchic state: people crossing busy roads at every point (reminiscent of my experiences on the roads in Vietnam), vehicles constantly screaming at one another in high-pitched honks, men taking a leak by the roadside, cows tied to poles on road dividers, clothes hung out to dry in the middle of a road heavy with traffic. We even came across a horse aimlessly wandering on the street!

We arrived at our accommodation at Rossa Guesthouse later than expected as our driver was unable to find the place and the directions passers-by gave him did not seem to bring us closer to our destination. The three of us guys were ushered into our room and to our surprise, realised that only a double bed had been provided although it was clearly stated on our booking form that we had requested for an additional bed. The porter walked past the bed and, to our horror, pointed to the empty floor area between the bed and the wall and uttered four quite frightening words, 'This is your bed.' Befuddled, Kenneth even walked over and, using his feet, tested if that section of the floor was soft enough for a comfortable slumber. To our relief, we realised that his four words really meant 'this area will be for your bed' as he proceeded to get a mattress.

Chai (tea)

 Our first stop after breakfast the next morning was Sudder Street, the main backpackers' area in Kolkata. It was there where we booked several of our train rides and where Leo and I were introduced to our first public toilet: an open cubicle (yes, pretty public) with no flushing system. Waiting for Kenneth to settle our transportation with the manager, I purchased a packet of sour cream and onion-flavoured crisps. While munching on it, a teenaged, barefoot boy stopped beside me. He mumbled a few unintelligible words and quite forcefully grabbed the packet from my hands and quickly began munching on the rest of the crisps while calmly walking away. I was momentarily rooted to the spot, astounded without words before I gathered my thoughts and remembered that, in India, ‘everything is possible’. After purchasing our tickets, we proceeded to buy SIM cards from a nearby store. Anna, Leo and I were invited into the narrow booth while Kenneth and Xue Wei followed a staff member to obtain the cards from elsewhere. The store owner, a local man of about sixty, began conversing with us as we served as objects on display for curious passers-by. He spoke in the most gentle manner, telling us that he was a former civil servant, which may have helped to explain his marvellous command of English, and as a secretary, was a master at shorthand. He recommended a good place for Bengali food and asked us about our travel plans and our professions.

At the phone shop

 At Rita's

Rita, our gracious host

It was nice meeting Rita, Anna's Literature classmate at the National Institute of Education (NIE), for dinner back in Singapore and she was of tremendous help, giving us some useful advice on transportation in India and even attempting to help us obtain those elusive train tickets from Agra back to Kolkata. She had also graciously invited us over to her place for lunch and after settling practical matters at the Sudder Street area, we boarded a taxi to Behala Chowrasta to meet her. 

At Kolkata's Longest Red Light

On the way to Behala, our taxi, encountering a red light at a particular crossing, duly came to a halt. To our amazement, our driver turned the engine off and nonchalantly got out of the vehicle and walked about ten metres to a nearby cab and began casually conversing with its driver. We realised that our driver, with the knowledge that he had stopped at the crossing regulated by what was probably Kolkata's longest red light (by far the longest I've encountered in my lifetime), was simply unwilling to waste precious time when he could work on building better relationships with others. We arrived at Behala Chowrasta after a forty-five-minute ride. Rita and her sister, Somrita, were there to greet us at the auto-rickshaw (also known in certain areas as a 'tuk tuk') stop. Squeezing ourselves and our backpacks into the auto-rickshaws, we took a six-minute ride to Rita's house.

Squished in the auto-rickshaw

 Rita's family prepared a wonderful Bengali meal for the five of us. Steamed long-grain rice was accompanied by customary dhal, as well as dishes like potatoes cooked with turmeric and poppy seeds (a dish Rita sorely missed when she was in Singapore where such seeds are banned), fresh fish fillet cooked in banana leaf, and as Rita promised, palak paneer (cottage cheese in spinach gravy). Her parents were most hospitable, her Dad introducing the dishes to us while her Mum served them on our plates. 

After a sumptuous meal, we proceeded to Rita's room, which she shared with Somrita, for post-lunch conversation. We were treated to lovely glasses of lassi while we conversed. Rita shared with us her experiences of teaching in India and while Somrita, being quite a technophile, lamented about not possessing Whatsapp when most of her friends were using the function. In discussing classroom management, Rita remarked that it was important to be firm at the very beginning or students would 'dance on your heads (like skilled performers) ', a more elegant expression than the one we are used to back home where students would 'climb all over you (like monkeys)'. It's always a joy to be able to meet friends from abroad in their own countries as this always adds a personal touch to one's travels and we were grateful for Rita and her family's warmth in inviting us to and entertaining us in their cosy abode. We promised to return the favour by introducing her to durians when she's back in Singapore. There aren't many more effective ways of providing someone with an indelible introduction to Singapore than through our king of fruits!

Fresh, sweet lassi