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.

The Effect

It's raining again this afternoon. A rainy afternoon in June. Warm, golden weather, laden with droplets that are still making their minds up. Tentative, pensive weather that reminds me of walks, naps and conversations I'd rather keep stowed away, if only because they are too precious to handle again and again. I wish I could turn back time. Because then, I would know.

The Promise

I will be back soon, I promise. I won't let this page go dusty and neglected.

I promise!

The Assortment

1. No post on New Year's Eve...or before that, or after it...what's my world coming to??

2. Redressal is, therefore, priority.

3. I'm a light traveller. Actually, it's probably more accurate to say that I travel light when I have the choice. Goes without saying that visits home with bags and bags of shopping, do not count. I can manage trips up to a week long with one bag's worth of packing, thank you very much. Light travelling is also true of me metaphorically...but much as I'd like this point to take on a deep philosophical hue, I've got to admit I was thinking more about trips hither and thither.

4. If you give a new city the chance, it's pretty exciting watching it trying to woo you little by little. You'll have to meet it halfway, though, else you'll never befriend it.

5. Christmas on Park Street - be there to believe it.

6. I have newfound respect - and love - for the break of day. More on it later.

7. New Year resolution - more time together, my blog and I.

I'll see you on the other side of the weekend, then? :)

Love, always,
Crossworder

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.

Soft Focus

"I'm interested in financial analysis", he is saying, "a credit-related role."

"We'll come to the profile in a bit", I respond, almost as if on autopilot.

It is stealing upon me, bit by obvious bit. An expectant little thrill, the sort you feel in the presence of your first love. I look out of the picture window again. I couldn't have felt the pull more strongly if I were a lodestone in an exceptionally strong magnetic field.

I shiver a little. It could be the airconditioning. It could be something else.

"...the ideal ratio, of course", he is saying again, "is 2:1. I'm a fresher", he adds with some pride, "but I do believe I can add value to the financial and accounting aspects of your organization."

"We're a bank", my colleague remarks, drily. "At the end of the day, finance and accounting is all we're about."

I look out of the window again. I feel the slight chill and that old pull once more, at the same time. I know that chill. I know that shade of twilight. I know how it feels. I have nothing if not those feelings.

"You know I know how much you miss it all."

"I've never pretended otherwise", I say aloud in my head, half awed, half defensive.

It laughs softly, raises an enticing arm. Invites a hug.

All I want to do is run into its embrace. This interview, the world, all be damned.

So I stare resolutely at the psychometric profile and begin a question. My brain slips into autopilot mode again. I pause for the briefest fraction of a second to make sure it's headed in the right direction, then hand over control before resuming my conversation with whatever it is outside the picture window, in the fast-falling darkness.

I know the room is virtually airtight right now, but it is getting progressively cooler. The chill is setting in with the self-assurance of someone who knows they're needed, even if you deny it to them till you are blue in the face, while your heart is pounding with terror at the thought that they will take you at your word and leave.

That isn't what surprises me. I'm shaken - alarmed and reassured in equal measure, all at once - by something else. That chill caressing my skin feels like the warmest, most familiar hug I've ever been in.

And then it hits me. It's been sitting in plain sight all this while, which is probably how it escaped notice in the first place. Typical.

It's the Delhi winter. It's home, and it's looking for me.

The One Song Wonder

So, I was watching Delhi Belly the other day, and, gross as the movie is, the fact is, I loved it.

Did you notice how many commas that previous sentence had?

I've been a Vodafone user for about five weeks now. After seven years of being an Airtel loyalist, six of them with one prepaid number, I thought it would be a huge change. I mean, even up to last year, switching networks would have been an occasion for me. New jingles, a new logo, a new mascot. Hell, I'm someone who'll wake up ninety minutes earlier than usual just to use her new toothbrush. But nothing happened. The nice guy from Vodafone came and gave me a new SIM card and took my signature on one dotted line. Not even ID proof. And I sent a message out to all my contacts, and carried on as if nothing had happened.

That's how mindlessly numb corporate life can be.

I'm still hopelessly in love with Delhi. I notice Calcutta (I refuse to use the new name) wooing me little by little, though. Some days, I am inclined to give in, just a little bit. At any rate, we'll always be good friends.

Life and its hobgoblins make regular appearances. They're not so bad.