The Calcutta Diaries - I: Show and Tell

So, this is a post that's been waiting for months to make it from my head to this page. I've been in this quirky, comfortable city for about 14 months now - called it home, settled into it...I'm even planning my move out of it and what I do here, and I still don't have anything concrete about it on the Wall. That's patently unfair to a place and time that has been very good to me, all things considered.

If you're an old friend I know - or am still a stranger to - you'd have noticed that there haven't been too many posts on the Wall in the last year. Get out of the way, 72-hour workweeks, protracted projects and mind-numbing fatigue...I'm back, World!

So we'll pick up right where we left off. I'll start by showing you around.

I've been in Kolkata for over a year now. I stay in Ballygunge, which is in South Kolkata. It's beautiful and green and mostly peaceful. Sure, that traffic gets maddening on Syed Amir Ali Avenue sometimes, but because I stay at a 15 minutes' walk from where I work, life's pretty good.

Because it's show and tell, I'll let these do the rest of the talking today:

That's a rare picture - because Gurusaday Road (where the office is located) is seldom this uncluttered. And because this picture's been taken at 5:30 pm on a non-Sunday, at which time I am almost never not closeted in my office, recruiting for a living. Don't miss the yellow taxi - it is quintessentially Calcuttan. It'll make several appearances in my pictures and stories because it is a fixture character in its own right in these chronicles. Hell, the city itself is a whole personality on its own.

This is classic-8 a.m.-Syed Amir Ali Avenue. If I wake up early enough (read 4:30 a.m.), this is where I head for my jog. Between 6:30 and midnight, though, it's easier to be a pedestrian here. No, scratch that. I waited 15 minutes for the signal to change on my way back this evening. Picture's from inside a yellow taxi, of course.

The iconic Birla Temple. Quite the landmark in Ballygunge. It's perfect for breezy evenings. I'm not as frequent a visitor as I'd like to be, but something about it is reassuring...basically, I am just glad it is where it is, if you know what I mean. I really should get a better picture, though. Trouble is, you're going to have to stand in the middle of the road to get the best view, and given that the road is Syed Amir Ali Avenue...

This photo's special because it was taken the morning the monsoons broke in Cal after a long, really muggy summer. At 6, the famous Calcutta humidity was at its most unbearable. Somewhere between then and 8 a.m., the rain gods decided to smile. And how! Also, there's a lot in these pictures that is typically, uniquely Calcutta - look closely and you'll see a hand-pulled rickshaw resting on the pavement, and Communist graffiti right behind it. And, of course, the yellow taxi (fine, I'll be shutting up about those now :) ).

Two days ago, the rains were extra kind. At 4:15 in the afternoon, this is what it looked like right outside my office.

And now, for my flat.

I adore my flat. Period. I've literally never loved any place I've stayed in so much - and I've had over 10 addresses in the last 8 years, so that's saying something.

I had family over for breakfast one Sunday. This is them, in my living room. I cannot say this enough - I love my flat to bits! Just the mention of it makes me smile. :) :) :)

That's one end of my room. It's where I crash at the end of the day. It's warm, safe, cosy...and all mine. :)

My favourite nook in a house I love every inch of. Family pictures, pens and Post-Its within easy-to-grab range, keepsakes, my books, stuff I do not leave home without, junk jewellery...you name it.

That still leaves the kitchen, but I'll tell you about that later, because I think I have a whole series' worth of food-and-cooking-related posts brewing somewhere in my head.

So that was the introductory post. I have so much more to tell you. I'll be back in a blink. Know, till then, that returning to you and my blog is about the best thing to have happened to me all year. :)

So long. Bhalo theko.

Insomnia - I

Just me, Blogger, a temperamental computer and almost-November...such old friends.

I was a certified insomniac back in college. I think I retain wisps of the trait, but even if I do, I'm just a shadow of my Delhi self. Back then, every night found me alternating between the rickety Samsung 2000 PC in the lobby and the chilly roof of my hostel. It wasn't because I was unhappy or unwell...I just had way too much energy to quiet down and tuck myself in every night. Winter in Delhi was an addiction. The only other element in my life that even came close, was my blog.

I don't mind belonging...but I have trouble being owned. Yet, the only entity I will ever admit to being owned by, willingly or otherwise, is Delhi. Delhi, especially between October and March, if we must mention details.

Winters there can be unforgiving. The Delhi winter doesn't care if you have Jan tests in five days or two, or today. It doesn't care if you're already bundled under seven layers of mismatched woollen clothing. It couldn't give a damn if the outdoors appear forbidding because of it. Say what you will, there is only one version of the Delhi winter - full, passionate, absolute. It doesn't abate because you are afraid of it, or because you're prepared. There's only one of it, and it knows that and respects itself enough to be all that it is, in its entirety - fog, mists, frozen nights et al.

That's how I fell in love with it.

That is also how I learnt to co-exist with it. I stopped shying away from the winter. I went and befriended it instead. Whenever the cold got a little bitter, I'd raise my arms for a hug. And cold, wintry Delhi hugged me back, till that draught of icy air creeping to the back of my neck past a carefully-wound muffler exhilarated, rather than discomfited, me.

This evening, I was thinking I should do a post about the sights, sounds, smells, tastes and textures I associate with the University. Maybe I'll do it tonight. Who knows.

Moving In

 I remember this vividly. The smell of fresh paint - pungent, tantalizingly clean. The sting of lingering turpentine in my eyes. The starkness of freshly-distempered walls and the surgical precision with which every angle and vertex of every door and window stood out. The unsettling sense of emptiness and the mute invitation it extended – come, settle in, fill all this up.

I grew up in several houses. By the time I was eighteen and ready to go to college, I had lived in five apartments. It’s something I’ll always be grateful for, to the organization Dad is with. I’m very sure that’s where my ability to adapt has its beginnings. I recall getting very excited when we moved onto the second floor of our new building from our fourth-floor apartment in another part of the colony, because things suddenly appeared so much larger and closer from windows and balconies.

And each time we stepped into a new house for the first time, I smelt fresh paint, touched the blank smoothness of the walls, and felt a muffled sense of anticipation and excitement for all that this blankness and newness was capable of becoming.

Tonight, when I stepped into my apartment, my own apartment, for the very first time, I felt it all again.

When did all the growing-up in between happen, though?

Life comes full circle in so many ways. Exactly fifty-three weeks ago, I was at the beginning of a friendship which would morph into a relationship that changed life as I knew it. I didn’t know it back then, of course, the fact that I was at the beginning of anything at all. I realised that much later…and by the time I did, it was over.

It’s been exactly six months since. Tonight, gazing at the starkness around me (you know, the sort which makes every thing stand out in alarming contrast) I wonder if there ever was anything to have realizations about.

I find myself packing up and moving every May, every year. I packed and moved to College. I packed and moved every year that I was an undergrad. I packed and moved to begin my first job. I packed and moved when I ended my first job and began life as a postgrad. I packed and moved to intern over the summer that followed. I packed and moved to a random corner of the country to begin work full-time. I’ve packed and moved again.

Each time, in May.

I have a history of sudden departures. I am beginning to feel I prefer it that way. And, like the sense of emptiness in a freshly-painted house waiting to be moved into, that feeling is unsettling.

The Summary

I don't quite remember what I was doing the midnight of April 13 and 14 last year. Not material, really. It's just that a year is a decent frame of reference.

And so, here I am. Yours truly, Crossworder.

Between mid-April last year and now, I have -

Left Delhi and realised, much too late, that I'm irreversibly in love with it. Lived all alone in a brand new city, in a house meant for four. Cooked meals from scratch and done a very good job of it, all things considered :) Met one of my favorite people some half-a-dozen times in ten months - which is great, given that he lives in a different city. Explored Marine Drive and Worli Seaface at midnight, and driven around Calcutta at 1 a.m., like I always wanted to. Been taken out for chocolate truffle at 3 a.m. Caught more 7 a.m. flights than I can remember having done before. Consequently, woken up at the unearthly hour of 3.30 more frequently than I ever had to, before this. Packed and unpacked for trips ranging from 14 hours to 6 weeks in duration, in ten minutes flat (and I'll have you know it's no idle boast). Fallen in love and dealt with heartache and heartbreak - and lived to tell the tale. Stayed up entire nights working on projects that never ended and went nowhere (!). Also stayed up from dinner to breakfast, catching up with one of my best friends over a bottle of Coke and a Mars bar. Travelled for days - the sort I always wanted...highways, random little places, lots of greenery and lots of rain, no two consecutive nights or meals in the same place. Developed a rickety little philosophy of my own. Baked my first cake. Made plans, then re-made them. Done enough laundry to last three people ten lifetimes each. Gone from always-misses-calls to has-no-option-but-to-take-them. Bought enough formal Indian clothing to last me eight lifetimes - then proceeded to ruin successive kurtas with spirited rubbing and ironing. Learnt to negotiate successfully with salespeople at white goods' showrooms and telecom outlets. Poked myself in the eye seven hundred times, at the very least, in the process of learning how to wear lenses. Exulted in the victory of Anna Hazare. Practised deep breathing as a way to avoid losing my cool with regional and zonal heads who refused to see reason. Seen HR professionals - hell, been one - up close and personal. Figured out what I think I may probably want to do with my life. Allowed my vulnerabilities to show - and emerged a stronger individual for it. Turned 25. Gazed awestruck at the magic that we call 3G. Rediscovered my love of handmade silver jewellery. Not read a quarter as many books as I wanted to, sadly enough. Written SOPs that had no beginning, no end and no middle to speak of either. Been thrilled to bits at finding myself doing things I wanted to but never thought I'd get around to (remember the midnight drives?). Received some fourteen reality checks and still counting. Taken the TOEFL only because I could not get through to the helpline to cancel my registration - and thanked my stars later for having kept the lines busy. Landed in Delhi at 1 a.m. - believe me, it can't get more beautiful. Watched some really bad movies, and two decent ones. Elevated emailing to a fine art. Watched India win the World Cup. Developed an aversion to Maggi and omelettes. Come halfway to disliking pizza. Realised, thus, the truth in the axiom that anything in excess can get on your nerves. Nearly finished the Twilight series. Bought my first Rushdie and Marquez. Closed Thought Experiments and started The Southwest Wall, then closed The Southwest Wall and started a fresh blog...then closed the new blog and came back to the Wall because I'm not done with it yet.


Which brings us back to the beginning.


What's your past year been like? Go on, it's good to share. :)

February

Hello there. I've gone a whole month without making an appearance here. That is not to say I haven't been inking posts in my head. It's just that February has been an incredibly interesting month. And now, I have a writer's block the size of Alaska - not out of a dearth of things to write about, but a surfeit. Suffice it to say that February gave me more food for thought than I had expected...or was prepared for. All in a good sense. :) I'll come back and tell you all about it. Till then.

Fifth Corner - I

I guess it has something to do with this time of the year. Willy-nilly, I turn back and take stock. It's a feeling I'm now familiar with...the warmth of my palms ensconced safely in the pockets of my sweatshirt, the chill playing with my breath each time I exhale, my mind a whirl of thoughts. I've found myself doing this curled up on windowsills on Main Corr, on the terrace as I gaze out over a sleeping city, on long walks to Gwyer Hall and back, and on sleepless nights here in Bhubaneswar, watching winter raindrops trickling off palm fronds just outside my window. That palm frond was just sprouting when I got here...now, it's close enough to touch.

I shake hands goodnight with it. :)

It's been a year I will never forget. I've done things I've always wanted to, and some things I never thought I would. I've had wishes granted. The impossible practically happened. Enough said.

Somewhere, though, there's a slight tinge of disillusionment and a little sadness.

Don't get me wrong - heaven forbid that I should feel or even sound like an ingrate. I'm thinking aloud...let's see if we can sort this out.

(So is this where I should insert the Rambling Alert? Methinks it is.)

It began wonderfully enough - my first New Year's Eve home in five years. It was a very happy girl who made her way back to Delhi for her fourth semester. February was important - I re-discovered an old love, thanks to a new friend. I had the most amazing evening of my life on March 15. I didn't know this then...but March was also the month of another beginning. More about that later.

Let's see...April was laid back. Quiet and lazy and fun. I do remember presenting my dissertation one afternoon. I've never been as poorly prepared for anything, ever...and I've never had so much fun. May...ah, now we're talking. :)

May was crazy. There were exams I was unprepared for out of sheer disinclination, and there was a growing realization that if what I had with Delhi couldn't be classified as a with-or-without-you relationship, nothing could. May 15, again, was one of those days. I went from ecstatic to flabbergasted to plain low in 30 seconds flat. Even for someone as mercurial as I am, that's a quick transition. And that's all the more reason May 16 was such a surprise. May 17 was...difficult. Packing six years into sixteen bags and boxes is not easy...and I'm not talking logistics here. The next day, I left Delhi.

I'll never forget the night leading up to my departure, or the last hour at the airport. Other memories will come and go, this one's going to stay. Till the plane actually took off the runway, I was practically numb. I didn't realise I was crying till much later. Then I felt embarrassed, then stupid...and then I stopped caring about everything but the fact that I was leaving behind something I loved, and cried harder.

And that's why the week that followed was so difficult. It was my last four days with my family before I entered a set-up that measures personal time and space in privilege leaves. There were a million things to be done, scores of things to run around for. Mornings and evenings came and went, marking time with merciless regularity. The one thing that was constant, whether I was at the doctor's or the bank or the temple, was this thought sitting in a corner of my mind. "When you leave now", it kept repeating, "you are not going back to Delhi. Not now, not any time soon. There's no Delhi to go back to, the way you've known going back to it. What you've left behind is over."

I'm no good at handling endings, so that hurt.

The last week was full of new experiences. Outside BKC on the 23rd, I began a new chapter. Of more than one story, though I didn't know about the other.

May ended with three clueless ER Managers landing in Calcutta, dining on Maggi and saying goodnight in the hall before proceeding to Rooms 1 and 3 (I got one all to myself. The guys shared the other. Oh, the privileges of being a woman :)

June. Hmm...June.

Here are my discoveries for June:

1.Recruitment can be as boring in practice as it is in theory. The thrill wears off in no time, especially when logistics demand attention.

2. A good team is half the job done.

3. Laugh a lot. Be goofy. Play silly games. It's good for you. :)

4. Delhi is a lover and a friend. Calcutta is your friendly old neighbour next door.

5. And Calcutta is beautiful at midnight.

6. Long work hours are more irritating in reality than they are horrifying in concept.

7. Homesickness sometimes gets accentuated in a hotel room.

8. You can do - or not do - what you like. If it's meant to happen, it pretty much will.

9. Airtel has lousy customer care for its prepaid services.

10. Six weeks is a long time to spend with a bag packed only with a five-day trip in mind.

11. Following from #10, being in a new place every third day is a lot more fun when you don't have to worry about laundry.

12. Let. Go. It's important.

July was another revelation. Bhubaneswar and I happened to each other. We're still trying to figure our way around each other, this city and I. The end of the month was especially tough, on several fronts...which is why the trip to Khandala, which happened in the beginning of August, was a much-needed and very soothing break. Hills, mist, rain, lakes, highway, moonlit nights, golden afternoons. Perfection, in other words.

August, September, October, November...the months just melted away. Little bits and pieces of life held together by a fibre I couldn't identify. I learned something about myself these last four months. I learned that I am capable of feeling lonely, that I have walls I need to reconsider, and that I may have to rethink thoughts I've already rethought. I learned that I am allowed my mistakes. I learned to be comfortable with acknowledging that sometimes, things weren't all okay, and that it was alright for them to not be okay once in a while. I learned to face facts and deal with them. And above all, I learned that being honest with yourself and telling yourself the truth are sometimes two different things - and both are equally important.

Well, then...it's been a year I'll never forget. I'll remember it because it fulfilled a  long-cherished wish and because it taught me something I'd never have learned, left to myself. I'd always wished for a job I could travel madly as part of. That happened alright. The lesson? I'll tell you later. :)

Disillusionment, yes. I guess that's part of the deal. It happens to me sometimes as part of my job...and it happens on the personal front too. But, you know what, in the larger scheme of things, it's okay. It really is. You know what they say about fixing the blues...count your blessings, they say. Thank your lucky stars.

Either that, or blog about the year gone by, say I. :)

p.s. Still got some stock-taking left. Later, maybe.

Actually, I'll definitely come back and finish this.

To Delhi, with love

Dear Delhi,

There have never been any secrets between you and me. I gave up trying to keep anything from you a long, long time ago. When personalities fall into sync the way yours and mine did, no thought is a secret. You know all of mine. Do I know all of yours?

Are you kidding me? There's no way I could manage knowing everything about you.

If anything, that makes me fall harder in love with you each time I so much as think about you.

I do know, though, that you're mad, and stubborn, and lovable, and temperamental and beautiful. I know that you're irritating, maddening even. That you're opinionated and interfering and irresistible. That I've never resisted something so hard and only ended up feeling that much more passionately about it.

I wasn't sure what to make of you when I first got to know you. I hated you, then moved on to indifference, then a tentative, hesitant liking of sorts, then a deep friendship...then immense love, more indifference...I began to resent you again and I thought we were done for good. And then I left you, feeling glad that the time had come for us to part before the love changed to something less pleasant. I didn't want to feel less pleasantly about you.

Moving on from what it was like to be with you is the hardest thing I have had to do yet. I hadn't been away for 12 hours before it hit me that this was it...I'd never be back there again, things would change forever. I missed you. I still do. I miss everything about you, and I love you.

You know all that there is to know about me, Delhi. When I'm with you, I'm me. I can't say I know everything about you, Delhi, but I do know you're lush and green and rebellious when it rains. I know you have your monsoon moodswings. I've grown to love them, be able to predict them, even. I know that yours is the most scorching, unforgiving summer in the world. You stubborn, headstrong city...nothing reflects your temperamental side as easily as your Mays, Junes and Julys.

And I did manage to survive a summer and monsoon away from you, Delhi...but not being there when winter is slowly making its way into the calendar is killing me. Yous soul is never as beautifully consummate as it is in winter. And every time I smell the wood-smoke in the air here, every time I shiver and hug myself to keep out the nip in the air, each time I see a trace of fog anywhere around me, I miss you so much that it breaks my heart. I miss the fog there, I miss shivering uncontrollably under eight layers of woollen clothing, I miss the impossibility of leaving my bed every morning. I miss the way the air smells and feels there. I miss your fairy lights at CP, and the lone peanut vendor by Arts Fac. I miss the coldness of the handrails inside the Metro. I miss the bite of the wind as it whips across my face when I travel through Central Secretariat by auto. I miss India Gate, I miss the Ridge, I miss the University, I miss the terrace of my hostel building. I miss the quietness of 2 a.m, when an insomniac and her city would commune. I miss the stillness of your nights. I miss the beauty of your roads. I miss your skies and your horizon. I miss every thing about you.

And till I left you and realised how it felt, I had no idea I was capable of so much love.

I'll come back to you. Don't ask me when, because I don't know. But I will.

Till then, know that I love you, and miss you with every particle of my being.

Yours, always,

Crossworder