My Experience In An Amreecan Village Part 1 : Zor Ka Jhatka

So I have moved from Kolkata and I miss my city and I find myself in a village in the middle of nowhere(read Pennsylvania) in the big bad world of Amreeca. So I have now decided to chronicle my experience in this village and start a sub-blog. I wonder if I should change the name of the blog ??(HMMMMMM!!!)

Before I was coming over all my non-Amreeci Amreecan people(friends and family who lived in the U.S) gave me plenty of advice most(yes I said most) of which was useful in dealing with the culture shock. But no one prepared me for the literal shock I would get after landing in the country. The dry winter cold generates so much static that anything and everything shocks you, from car doors, to walmart carts, to PB2's faux-fur coat. And I have no idea why nobody warns against that.

Then I had this firm belief that I could go on talking in Bangla and no one around me would understand. It somehow made me feel I posses this superpower. Again, noone told me any better. From the cabbie, to the hotdog vendor, to the owner of the local Dunkin DoNut shop...everyone seems to know Bangali and are either from Bangladesh or Medinipur, specially in New York.

But the biggest shock I got about the above was right here in this Amreecan village. My cousin MSM and her husband SS had come the first weekend that I landed in the continent to help me settle in. So to celebrate my first weekend in the States SS, (based on my other cousin AB's suggestion)took all of us to this Carribean Restaurant called Bahama Breeze. We ordered a lavish dinner and was conversing away in Bangla. The bill finally came and while SS was calculating the tip MSM was telling me how in New York the servers will run after you if you do not tip properly. Our Bahama Breeze server, however was standing behind politely waiting for the cheque. After the bill was paid we walked out and was waiting in the waiting area for our cab. MSM and I were sitting in one corner while SS was standing by the door keeping a watch out for the cab. Our server suddenly comes and shows the bill to SS. MSM walks over to SS, puts her hand on her hips and asks SS in Bangla "Ki re ? New york er moton obosthya ? Beshi taka chay !! " (What is it? Do they want more tips like in New York?). To this SS replies that he had made some mistakes on calculating the tip also in Bangla. So MSM being the person she is turns to the server and explains to him in English that SS was too tired and therefore made a mistake. To this our server replied, in plain and simple Bangla " Kono somosyai noi. Erom to hoyei thake. " ( Do not worry. This is not a problem at all. We are used to things like this happening.)And this is what Amitabh Bacchan used to refer to as "Zor ka Jhatka, dhire se lage."

A Temporary GoodBye

I have to say goodbye to this city of mine for atleast the coming 6 months. In another 2 days I will be sitting on a plane "don't know when I will be back again". (But I will definetely be back)

It is with mixed feelings that I will be saying bye to the city. I will miss my people in the city. I think I will miss the city more than I can miss a person. For the last two weeks I am trying to get all of the city in me, from Chinese in Mandarin, to Arsalan's Biriyani, to VivekAnanda Park fuchka, from walks along DeshaPriya Park to long lazy walks around Park Street, from street shopping at Gariahat to hunting for bargains in New Market. I will even miss my one and a half hour journey to and from office. Specially the times when I would take an auto to Karunamoyee, then another to UltoDanga, then another to Shova Bazaar Metro and take a metro to TollyGunge tram depot (Uttam Kumar) and walk home. And to top it all Kolkata has decided to dawn the best weather possible right now. The light cool breeze keep on caressing me and bids me a long lingering loving goodbye.

I will be back soon my lovely. I will miss you.

Chutzpah

I have met women in my life, some of them are in my family who choose to be the victim. They choose to be beaten, abused, ill-treated, and walked all over and they glorify their lives because they had to  go through or are still going through all this. They turn themselves into some sort of sacrificing martyr. These women scare me.

And then ever so rarely you come across stories of extraordinary deed by ordinary women such as Shabnam Ramasamy. These people in Shabnam'w word hold life by its collar, push it to the wall and say ‘you live according to me and not me according to you!’

 SALUTE !!

TAXI DRIVER

• NAME :. P.N ROY
• AGE : 27
• PROFESSION : TAXI DRIVER
• LOCATION : Cab ride from Deshapriya Park to Tollygaunge
• ETHNICITY : U.P. 

Vote is over and Narendra Modi has been appointed our Hon'ble Prime Minister. Politics and vote fever seem to have died down from the papers but it is still quite fresh in my memory. Apart from the meetings and the morchas and the verbal fights on t.v. and every other vote centre the heated debates, one feature that marked this year votes for me is the acute lack of public transport. As it is the cab drivers in Kolkata derive some sort of a sarcastic pleasure in refusing passengers. And just before the vote even the few cabs which would have considered not refusing seemed to be all booked for vote duty.

One such harrowing hot and humid May late evening I got down at DeshaPriya Park hoping to catch an auto and could not find anything. I saw this cab coming towards me and although it had "ON VOTE DUTY" written on the front shield I hailed. I was tired and desperate. He told me he will only go if I am going towards Ranikuthi. I climbed in gratefully. For some reason he took a liking to me and started talking.

He is originally from U.P. and like million others heard that Kolkata would give him an opportunity to survive and came over to try his luck about 4 months back. He did not have a choice other than leaving U.P. because he fell in love with a girl there he was not supposed to and if he did not flee he would have been dead. As soon as he got this assignment of driving one of his boss's three cabs his cab got stamped for vote duty. So every morning at around 6 he has to go down to some government official's house in Alipore and has to mandatorily stay there till 6 PM. This particular official hardly ever gets out of the house. The cab is instead used by the wife and the teenage daughter as their personal car. The routine is that around noon everyday the wife and daughter goes out somewhere or the other and comes back home after 8 PM. That however does not mean that he can report late or he is getting paid more than his promised stripend. He was telling me that he knows that he is just starting and that he can barely afford his meals but at the end of the day he knows that he does his job well.I actually asked him why do you guys keep on refusing passengers.And he said that he never does. Only when he is really tired. He knows that other cab drivers do and he thinks no better of them than the government official to whom he is working for now. He made that very clear in quite expletive terms, because these cabbies give honest cab drivers like him a bad name, or that is what he feels.

It was a little difficult understanding his heavily accented Hindi, but it was nice and friendly contrary to most other cab rides where I always stay on the guard and keep a finger on speed dial.

After paying him and before getting down, I asked him if I could take his picture and told him I will share it on the internet. He was taken aback, but he was still talkative and then asked if he would become famous. I told him, I hardly think so.

And then I asked him what happened to the girl ? The one he was in love with. For the first time he went quiet and said "I hope to God, she killed herself." Then he drove away.

Guest Blog : Why and Where

So just like all the famous people across the internet have a guest blogger, I have a guest blog today. It is a beautifully written expression of a place and what that word "place" mean. In all honesty this was written by one of my friends and not intended for publishing. But I begged and cajoled (not a lot... just a little) and asked this friend to chronicle it. The friend's reply was why don't you? Although I doubt if it was serious  I am still going to take it seriously.

Also I think I might ask people to contribute their ideas on some topics related to Kolkata here. The only problem being, I don't know many people. Uhh Well!!!!! Let me stop blabbering now and just post the piece. Here goes.

Why and Where

Relevance of a place, sometimes takes a life-time to discover. For some of us, some places we have stayed in hold relevance in terms of money and matter. For some, there strings a deep emotional tie. For some, there could be a bitter memory that stays, and for some it is just a mere place to lead their everyday life.

Ever since we take our first step, life goes into a running mode with a set sequence of events following one another. Learning, earning; doing something to make a mark, no matter how small. What we do forget in this race is the relevance of the places we pass through in this process. What would happen if these places did not exist? Logical answer would be that we would end up at some other place. The word PLACE thus, does hold relevance. Come to think of it, I myself had never thought in this regard as well till about a few days back.

My place of concern here is my birth place. The state capital of West Bengal, India. Kolkata (previously Calcutta). Ever since birth, I too fell into the daily running to learn and later earn. Though life has taken me to and through several places for varied reasons, now that I look back, had Kolkata not been there, would my life still be the same? Would I have ever learnt riding a bicycle had I not held my father’s forefinger and learnt balancing on two wheels in the lanes of Lansdowne (Sarat Bose Road). Would I learn to make friends like I do, had my baby steps not made their way to the group of children who I first made friends with? Would my childhood stories be the same as they are, had they not been in Kolkata? These are strange but relevant questions, for me at least, now that I retrospect.

What does leave marks about a place are the most relevant events that occur while being there. For me Kolkata, in that regard was a place of loss. Mostly, in terms of people close. What I did not look at is that the sense of loss came after I had learnt to love and adore selflessly. What I do now realize is that it is this city, which has again given me a chance to walk ahead in life.

I had hardly seen a Kolkata night, till about a few days back. Rather, I had seen it from eyes of a skeptic. All it took was the perspective of another set of eyes, which saw life even in hallows of hell. These eyes showed how beautiful this city can be, and what makes it so beautiful. These eyes had seen losses, some large, yet the city was still beautiful to them for many more reasons. They taught me to look up and look into those reasons. They showed me so much in such short time, that I had not seen in a life time. These eyes showed me what makes a place bad or beautiful is me myself. The eyes that were so lovely themselves, right there in my city. 

From – Devil Reloaded

Basantika

Today is Poila Boisakh. The auspicious beginning of new year and the end of Bosonto.

I am not sure why I am writing this down today as this incident happened atleast a couple of weeks back. It happened in the middle of Bosanto. But it stayed with me.

My cousin RJ is a singer. She was performing in Deshapriyo Park as part of an annual concert "Basantika" arranged by her school of music. This was just a week after Holi. The weather was perfect with a cool breeze flowing. I made myself commfortable on the carpet with my mother and my aunt. There were all these lovely young(at heart definitely) men and women from the age of  4 to 60 dressed in the colours of Spring sitting around me with bright coloured Abir smeared quite artistically on their cheeks. There were dance recitals and songs and poetry recitals. There were artists painting large canvases with the hues of yellow and orange and red and green. There was this ambiance and energy of creativity and appreciation and everyone was enthralled, engrossed and enamoured by it.

And there were this group of girls between the age of 4 to 6. All dressed up in saris and jewelleries with flowers in their hair. They were playing among themselves, throwing flowers at each other(something very Shantiniketan about it) and then suddenly I noticed two street kids among them. The younger one was about three and the older one, perhaps four. At first they sat at quite a distance and  looked at the group of girls playing rathar tentatively. Then the younger one took a handful of flowers and threw at the nearest girl. The girl  threw it back at the child and slowly but steadily the two kids became a part of the group. Playing with them, laughing with them and enjoying with them. Then came the food packets. I actually instinctively found myself concentrating more on the kids than on the concert from that moment on. The little girls actually even shared their food with them. Like buddies. Eating from the same packet. I must admit. In my adult mind I was cringing thinking perhaps this is not the most hygenic thing to do. The little girls did not care or bother. As far as they were concerned they had made two new friends and they were sharing. And then suddenly a group of slightly older girls around the age of 10 to 12 came with their food packets. The older girls dissaproved of the situation visibly. One of the older girls gave the two kids a packet and a bottle of water and showed them the way out. I am sure that this is what is considered an act of kindness. But there was also this sense of demarcation in that act of kindness. Like the girls were in some sort of a higher position to feel sorry or pity for the two kids. They could show kindness to them but not consider them at par. Perhaps not even consider them human. The  way those little girls were behaving was much more humane, much more real. They were fighting about who gets the piece of cake like they would with friends, with equals.

I wonder when this sense that we are better, that we are privileged creeps inside us ? When does it become them and us? When do they cease to become perhaps even people ?

With the sun setting, sitting in the middle of this beautiful, cultural ambiance, I could not shake away the melancholy from my soul. Because I have myself grown up. I can never do what those little girls did.

Social Etiquette No 42 : You must offer your seat to the elderly.

See the image above ? See how happy and grateful the nice smiling elderly person looks ? See how happy and content the girl looks?

You must offer your seat to the elderly.

So this little line have been hammered into my head from when I was like about 14 and started going to school by myself in public transport by my school teachers, parents and above all the black board with bright white letters inside every 24-29 tram.

So, last Friday in an overcrowded V9 bus, I noticed this elderly(atleast I thought she was) woman struggling quite hard to hold on to the unreachable handles and stand. She kept on constantly tripping and falling. True to my ingrained good behaviour I generously(atleast I thought I was being generous) got up from my confortable seat and offered it to her. What followed was rathar unexpected. Instead of accepting the seat she visibly got upset and asked  " Why are you giving ME your seat ? There are lots of people standing around. You did not get up for any of them ." I scratched my head rathar adorably(atleast I think it was) and replied "Because I have always been told to offer me seat to the elderly." At this point she got furious and then using (in what can pollitely be described as) rathar strong words asked me how old I thought she was. I wanted to reply 72 but I realized it is best to  keep shut and take my seat again. She continued with, the attitude problem of today's college going generation and how to them anybody and everybody who is out of college comes under the category of elderly.

I could not bring myself to tell her that I am sadly not a college going student, nowhere even close. Sitting in my comfortable seat, I witnessed the image of the happy, smiling cuddly elderly woman thanking me gratefully and offering me hajmola(atleast that is what I think all women over the age of 55 carry in their bag) shatter into tiny little pieces.

Just to maintain parity(atleast that is what most  Software Engineers or people with OCD do)
NAME : Not known
AGE : How old do you think I am?
LOCATION : V9 bus
ETHNICITY : She was talking in Bangla but with a strong underlying accent. I suspect Gujrati.
ATTIRE : Red and Purple Salwar Suit, MangalSutra, Purple LipStick( atleast these are the things I noticed)

Look at me.

Kalki Kochlin, I am honestly a fan. And no this has nothing to do with her acting. Here is a person who thinks like me and so many of us in today's India and not afraid to voice it out loud. She goes above and beyond just advertising about washing machines and lipsticks. And I wish they show this little piece throughout all television channels instead of some one telling me I am worth a packet of hair color product.


I salute you Kalki. Standing Ovation from me.

http://www.storypick.com/unbelievable-performance-kalki-koechlin-feels-like-woman/

The Master, The Mistress and The Bachelor of Arts.

Disclaimer : I did record all of their voices, but when I came back and replayed the recording it was all gibberish. So this entire post is from memory. 

Location :  A very well known silver shop in Hoggs Market(popularly known as New Market).

It is a Saturday afternoon. This tiny shop is very busy as usual and brimming with customers. I was here a week back and had wanted this particular piece of earring which they were  nice enough to bring. Me, KB and SB as usual are also checking out 75 other different things. This shop has an array of breathtaking pieces of jewellery and every time I come here I keep on wishing if only I could afford to buy every piece they have. I am pretty sure I will not even mind the duplicates. But this Saturday I had another agenda. I wanted to feature them in my blog.

NAME : Vashi
AGE : 60
ETHNICITY : Sindhi

From the first day itself I like this vital middle-aged man. He always has a friendly smile and is quick but genuine with his compliments. He reminiscences about his grandfather who came and settled in Kolkata from Sindh Punjab post India partition. The shop he tells me was established in  1962. This shop was also his father's baby. He used to be an accountant in a reputed Engineering office and did not initially have much interest in the shop. Now he is nurturing his father's dreams by taking forth the tradition. He also mentions that his son (who is his constant companion) is very interested and he is happy to transfer the responsibility to his capable hands.
He talks about the Kolkata of the 60's and the people then and the people now and how the customer's profile have changed throughout all these years.
He asks me jokingly about the Prince Charming in my life with a twinkle in his eye.
He is one of those very few people who know how to live their life to the fullest and be happy and makes others smile around him.

NAME : Rupa
AGE : 56
ETHNICITY : Sindhi

Rupa just like her brother has an easy smile and a friendly attitude. But at the same time it is easy to figure our her deep perceptive inner core.Talking with her reveals more and I wanted to talk with her more. It felt like she believes in the same philosopy of life as me. Also she is one of the very few people who guessed my age correctly. She is a professor and she is single. She lives by herself. I asked her if she has any pets and she told me she does not. She said she is happiest with herself. She talked about how losing her elder brother suddenly made her seek solace in meditation and spirituality. She has this aura of calm reassurance and she imparts it to everyone around her.

NAME :  Vinayak
AGE : 23
ETHNICITY : Sindhi

The cutest looking boy with a shy yet charming demeanor enticing with his lovely pretty fares. He feels like the life of the shop. He is passionate about this shop and it shows. He even designs some of the jewellery himself. His father calls onto him for every minute details and he seems to know all those minute details. He is calm and collected and seems to be everywhere at the same time. The only time I noticed he looked a little uncomfortable was when he had to bargain with two older ladies. But he was polite and firm with them at the same time. It was highly admirable. He is also the solver of all problems silver. All you need to do is present him with the problem and he will definitely resolve it. He also likes dancing and was sweet enough to invite three of us to his concert.

For me personally it feels great just being in the shop and talking with them and looking at all the pretty things. They never force you to buy. They never stop you from trying. The never tire from showing you whatever you want to see. And they do it with a warm and friendly smile.


Actual Address: Asian Arts , F61 New Market. Kolkata - 700067.

SANDIP

• NAME : Sandip
• AGE : 25
• LOCATION : Rabindra Sarabor(Lily pool aka NO LOVER's POINT)
• PROFESSION : Art Student.
• ETHNICITY : Bangali

Me and KB took a long cut through the lakes one afternoon while on our way to lunch to Mandarin. We ambled along and we were accompanied by BP and MKRR and were just ambling around beside the lake. They were visiting our city from Blore and KB decided to take them to "No Lover's Point" i.e. the Lily Pool. As we enter we saw two boys sitting there with their canvas and their art supply and lost in their painting. They were painting the trees and did not even look at us goofing around. I went up to one of them and asked him his name. He replied without even looking up "Sandip". At this point I inquired if I can go ahead and bother him a little. He looked up a little startled and then said "You are not disturbing me".

Me : Do you come here often?

S : Yes

Me : Why here?

S : Because of the trees

Me : But why trees?

S : Because a tree has rhythm, it grows, it has life and it is its ownself ! That is why.

Me : Is it not difficult to depict a tree in your painting ?

S : I am not sure I get you.

Me : A tree is not stagnant. It constantly moves. The leaves move. How do you capture that in your painting?

S : Well that is the secret. Until I can capture that I will never be a true artist. There are some paintings where you can feel that the tree is moving that the river is flowing. That is a true painting.

Me : Do you have any favourite painter ? Are you inspired by someone?

S : As a student Everyone is my favourite. I must learn from all of them.

KB : Where did you study before joining Art College?

S (smiling to himeself): Before Art College I studied Mechanical Engineering Diploma for 3 years because of my parents and that is what they wanted. 

Me: Dear LORD ! I understand what you mean.

S: But I hated it. I was unhappy. I hated  everything. I hated working and so I quit and joined Art College.

Me : But tell me something, even Mechanical Engineering has Art and Drawing and sketches.

S (looks at me as if I am the stupidest person on earth) : But they are not trees. They don't have Life.


P.S : Picture courtesy BP(Black Peeper).

Fairer Sex

• NAME : Not known

• AGE : Between 25 to 35

• LOCATION : V9 Bus

• GENDER : Male (XY chromosome)

• ETHNICITY : Probably North Indian

CONTEXT : I got a call from work while I was hanging on to an almost unreachable handhold in the middle of the bus. My TL who is also a species of the XX Chromosome wanted to discuss about the progress of my SSL implementation in WPS 8.5 server. It was supposed to be a fresh installation. [For all the non-techie people I apologize profusely]. Hearing me talk over the phone a not so bad looking guy appreciatively looks at me and the following conversation happens. 

XY : You're the first person of the fairer sex that I've heard talking about LDAP and SSL.

Me : That seems unlikely. There are lots of women in the profession.

XY :  You are probably aware of it because you are somehow related to technology or aware of it. Let alone women, I doubt if most men care about websites with SSL and make payment with credit cards . It is surprising to find a woman who knows and talk about it with so much confidence.

Me (I got one of my crazy thoughts which I just said out loud) : "Fairer Sex". I wonder why this term was coined ? Is it for the colour of the skin of the general XX chromosomes. (Seems unlikely and frankly biased). Perhaps it is because of the judgement capability of majority of the XX chromosomes species. 

XY : I really don't know or care why the term 'fairer sex' was coined. I just find it that sounds better than calling someone 'female' - that's just rude.

Me (I felt that he was trying to be nice but that answer "slightly" rubbed me the wrong way) : Why is it assumed that more men will know about SSL and women wont ? Why is calling someone 'female' rude? Is calling someone 'male' rude ? Why is 'BE LIKE A MAN' a positive advice ? And simultaneously 'YOU ARE BEING SUCH A WOMAN' is always perceived in the derogatory sense? 

XY : I don't know and frankly I don't care to comment on why certain things are generally acceptable in society and others aren't. Maybe you should take it up for your next doctoral thesis. 

Me : Tell me what do you do care about ? Leaving your seat for a woman or the elderly is also generally acceptable in society and infact considered commendable.Never seen you caring about that either.  


After this conversation it was obviously not prudent to ask him if I could take a picture.

But every step of the way I am amazed as to how derogatory comments about women are ingrained in our society. 

Also this apparently is the reason why I will be single for the rest of eternity. Because even when a guy is trying to make conversation with me I find things such as this(read Kolkata is full of sexist "male") and turn off like 1990 Kolkata electricity supply. 

IF ONLY

The short film, in French and directed by Éléonore Pourriat, shows a father taking his kid to kindergarten and going through the rest of his day facing catcalls, sexist remarks, sexual assault, and contempt.

Devarchan and Sayanton or The Kool Kul Story.

At the beginning of this post I would like to profusely apologize because I will not be able to post a picture. I had taken a very kool picture of both of them eating kul . But I lost my phone and along with my phone their pictures and their details. I remembered the name of Devarchan (probably because I asked him to repeat his name some 17 times) and the rest as they say is Google .

• Name : Devarchan and Sayanton
• Age : 20 and 20
• Profession : Engineering Students
• Ethnicity : Bangali
• Location : Mini Bus from rubi

Let us go back to the beginning of the story. It was a winter Wednesday evening. On my way back to(TO and not from) work I decided to take a detour through Gariahat. So I got on a bus from Rubi and promptly sat down on the first available seat. Two boys got up and looked around. There was only one seat left and both of them in the spirit of brotherhood decided to stand.

The first boy (whose name I later found out was Devarchan) offered the second boy( a million point for whoever guesses his name) Kul.

For those who are thinking what is this thing called Kul (jake banglay bole khay na mathay makhe?), it is a kind of fruit and here is a picture.

But I digress as usual. So here is the conversation that forced me to feature these two in here.

D (offering a Kul to S) : Here have a Kul.
S : Nooooo. Thank You.
D. But why? They are awesome !
S : Nooooo. Thank  You.
D. But why ?
S : I don't like them. They are so sour.
D : But these are not those type of Kul. These are Narkeli Kul, They are delicious.
S : Actually I am scared of them.
D (pushes a Kul into S's hand) : Everyday you should do something that scares you (shitless!)
S (all eager to face his fears gives a tentative bite) : I actually like it. I don't know why I was scared of it.

At this point C(that is me) tentatively poked S and politely asked both of them if she could feature them in her blog. They both agreed. Posed for a picture too. D was nice enough to offer a Kul to C just before she was ready to get off.

P.S - So after C googled Devarchan and hunted his gmail id, C actually mailed him asking for a picture of him and his friend and also his friend's name. By popular opinion , does this qualify C as a weirdo ?

P.P.S - Thank you Devarchan for reverting back to my email and mailing me your friend's name. 

Social Experiment 4 : Spit like a MAN !!

So I have watched Titanic about 20 odd times and I remember most of the dialogues by heart. Yes I know super sappy of me. But who cares? Not me. And not the 51 odd men who spat in the middle of the road with elan !(What I mean is that they don't care. In general.Not about me watching titanic.) Should I also just include the two guys who blew their nose? Oh I feel whimsical, so I will. So the count is 53.

Let me reminiscence a little and tell you people how this idea actually came to my head. KB and I were walking down Southern Avenue on a perfectly nice evening when a shining black i10 came and halted because of the red light, just beside us. A guy in a shining black shirt which matched the colour of his i10 made this noise as if he was trying to regurgitate his intestines and then spat just beside us on the middle of the road. Sadly me and KB are not fans of this fine art of spitting( and perhaps never will be) and our reactions were spontaneous. I said something on the lines of "Ekta tene thappor marte hoy"( He deserves a tight slap). and KB said "Shala Idiot"( I am not really sure how to translate Shala to english). The guy obviously having mastered this art-form thought himself above us and drove his super shiny car away without even batting an eyelash. And then KB exclaimed in a disgusted tone that she wants to do an experiment on people spitting in the middle of the road.

And so the thought remained with me. And today while coming back from Rajarhat to Tollygaunge via Selimpur and Charu Market, I decided that I will actually record and count the number of people who spat on the road. These people are from various strata of society and their way of spitting also varies greatly. Some are silent, some are almost musical. Some are just spit and phlegm while most are red-tinted tobacco spit. But then they have two things in common. Everyone seems to be quite proud that they are using the road as their personal spit bowl and all of them were men. I am sure women spit as well but I did not witness a single one.

I know our Chief Minister wants to paint the city in hues of white and blue, but if only she gave the spitters of the city a chance, they would have painted it in shades of red and that too for free.(No pun intended. Only paan intended). They infact are so considerate and selfless that they already are painting the city incessantly. Maybe just like in "Lage Raho Munna Bhai" the next time we see someone spit we should go and smile and say "Thank You for painting the city red."

And as I end this post I leave you with the immortal lines of Rose and Jack...........

P.S. - Also have anyone noticed that people seem to spit more where there is a No Spitting sign?

Siddheswari Kali Mandir

• NAME : Debiprasad Mukhopadhyay
• AGE : 62
• LOCATION : Siddheswari Kali Mandir
• OCCUPATION : Devotee

Debi Prasad Mukhopadhyay calmly narrated the history of Siddhewsari Mandir to me and KB. He patiently answered all our questions. His family carry on the responsibility of taking care of the idol and the temple.

The idol itself is over than 500 years old. The Goddess appeared in the dream of the celebrated Sadhak Kaliprasad. She revealed herself to the Sadhu(holy man) and told him that she can be found in the southern side of a village where the Ganges ends. Sadakh Kaliprasad came down from the Himalayas with his two disciples and discovered the idol on the southern side of a forest in West Bengal, exactly where the Goddess had told him She would be found. Kolkata was not kolkata then. The Goddess had directed the Sadhu to establish her in The Maha Pith(Kalighat). But Sadhak Kaliprasad being a holy man of very limited means, offered water and sugar to the Goddess. He then meditated and prayed till  the Goddess gave him permission to establish Her in that place only. After establishing the Goddess, the Sadhu went back to his Himalayan abode.

The history of how the temple was built around the idol is equally interesting. There is a well known Madan Mohan temple a few feet away from the Siddheswari Kali Temple.One follower of the Madan Mohan temple was Shyam Chand Mullick. He happened to be the local zamindar. Daily while coming back from the Madan Mohan temple he had to cross the Siddheswari Kali idol. He would cover his face up so that he did not have to view the Goddess's face. In  pre-indepant India of 17th century, being a Vaishanb(follower of Krishna) it would be heresy on his part if he even as much as glanced at the Kali idol. But then over the next few days, he started hallucinating the Goddesses's face while looking at Lord Madan Mohan. He was deeply repentant and as a token of begging forgiveness he built the temple. He also engraved his name on the floor in front of the idol. The idea is that his offense would be slowly reduced as people step over his name to pray to the Goddess.

A few decades later towards the early 1700 this temple, became a place of worship and a centre for the notorious Dacoits of the day. Historically for some reason the Dacoits have been ardent devotee and worshipper of Kali, the ultimate symbol of female power. This Kali idol came to be known as one of the Dakate Kali idols. The Dacoits would abduct innocent victims and use them as human sacrifice by beheading them and offering the fresh blood to appease the Goddess. Infact the Kali idol is placed on top of three Dacoit heads. Even to date the Harikath(the Y shaped structure where the victims head would be placed while his hands would be tied behind his back) and the Khorgho(chopper used to chop the head off) is preserved inside the temple. It was only towards the end of 1700 when, one day Lord Clive , the then viceroy of East India Company, was passing the temple on his boat via the Ganges, came upon a little child about to be sacrificed. That is when he took measures to stop this barbaric ritual of human sacrifice.

This place also is witness to several other historical incidents. The Siddheswari Kali idol was referred to as Ginnima by Ramkrishna Parhamhansa Deb. This is where he stayed when he used to visit Kolkata. Once when Keshab Chandra was grievously sick, Ramkrishna Deb asked him to offer prayer to the Siddheswari Kali Ma. But Keshab Chandra being an ardent Brahmo Samaj member refused. Then Ramkrishna Deb came all the way over to Siddheswari Kali and offered prayer on Keshab Chandra Sen's behalf. 

The celebrated theater personality Girish Chandra Ghosh used to come to Siddheswari Kali Ma to seek blessing after every new play that he would write.

I am not a religious person. I am, what can be best described as agnostic. But this idol(Mrinmoyi Murti) has a calm and powerful aura. Just being in Her presence will make you close your eyes and offer a prayer. I did offer a prayer and also made a wish. Later KB told me that she prayed and wished that I would make a wish inside that temple. So if that means that her wished came true.... does it mean so will mine ?


P.S. - I am uploading the narrative in Debiprasad Mukhopadhyay's own voice. It is in three parts and might not be very cohesive.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Social Experiment 3 on the Ferry

Hey that rhymes !!

Me and KB boarded the normal ferry from BabuGhat which goes to Shibpur last Friday. We wanted to enjoy the Ganga, and this very unique ride.

We climbed up on the deck and there were mostly men on the deck and one other Muslim woman in a borkha.

Suddenly the helper on the boat tell us that ladies must go down and points to this hell hole underneath which is dark and dinghy and gets no air or sunshine. We first said no nicely and then I added that if I go inside I will definitely get motion sickness. Then most of the other guys joined him and kept on telling us that we have to go inside. First their logic was that we will  fall off board. Since we have XX chromosomes instead of XY we will obviously somehow manage to hurl ourselves over the railing accidentally. Then when we refused to move and also steadfastly was not paying them any attention the driver started honking the horn. As per him we were blocking his view. There were atleast 50 other men on that deck and we were the only two blocking the view. I guess it could be because we have breasts and that can be distracting. Then a random guy who was not even on the boat told us that we must go inside. We refused again and asked him to give us one good reason. He said if he has to give us one reason then it would go on forever. This was the rule. I then told him to show me the rule book. At that the men finally realizing that we were not going to give in said if we were so confident then we should stand at the lower deck, which did not even have any railing. At this point ofcourse no one was concerned about the fact that we might fall over. Infact it felt like they wanted us to slip and fall over. Just then a really old lady with her granddaughter came on board and she had to face the same harassment from everyone.They wanted even the old lady to climb down the steep stairs. I am so proud that she silently refused and continued to sit on the lower deck.

When the boat landed KB was one of the first people to jump off. I was about to follow when I realized that the men were trampling over the old lady. She was protesting feebly saying " Why everyone was pushing her." The men actually replied that she deserved it since she chose to sit up on the deck. I gave her my hand to hold onto and heard one of the men say to me "Why can't you get off the boat now if you are so confident ?" None of the men came to help the old woman down. At this point I shouted for KB and asked her to come help the old woman. Some other men who were not on the boat suddenly realized that a girl is summoning another girl for help. Their chivalry suddenly being awaken, they helped the old lady down.

This particular incident felt a bit like a social class thing but more that we belong to the female species thing. I guess the fact that we were of the female species, and perhaps a little higher up in the class ladder than them and refused to travel like livestock was reason enough to incite a boat full of men.

Since we are women it is again our fault ! How dare we challenge their male chauvinistic rule and refuse to travel in a dark airless hole ? How dare could we even want to enjoy the river and the breeze ? How dare we choose to stand their amidst the studly group of men? How dare we help another women ? And worse how dare we did not end up falling into the river ?

Sometimes I wonder what would they say if one day our Hon' Chief Minister decides to take the ferry. She happens to be the most powerful person in our State. But then our Hon' Chief Minister is a SHE. Will they demand that even she travels in that hole ? Because that happens to be the unsaid unwritten made up  rule ?

And just a reminder, the river happens to be a SHE herself. And she did help me from not wanting to punch the faces of all those people on board.

Social Experiment 2 with Me

Disclaimer : Contains strong language and worse, strong opinions by a woman !

It was New Year's Eve. I went to Kurry Klub with KB and SB for an early dinner.

This is what I was wearing
1. A red sweater.
2. A black and red skirt.
3. Black Stockings.
4. Red Wedges.
5. Kajal on my eyes and no makeup.

We were done by 9 p.m. and then we stopped at the Shop opposite HDFC ATM on Sarat Bose Road. We wanted to buy chocolates, water and Diet Coke. KB and SB were discussing something in rapt attention. As I was buying the things, a group of respectable looking boys/men came behind me. Initially I paid them no attention, but then my sixth sense told me that they were too close for comfort.

Suddenly, I was greeted with the compliment "Wah kya boobies hai !" followed by "Nice Ass."  At this point I tried to catch the attention of my friends but they were a little away and probably could not hear me. I told the shop keeper to hurry up. This seemed to somehow instigate the group. They continued " What's the hurry ? Some one's waiting for you ?" Then a second guy added. "Give her 500. She will wait for you then." Obviously this was the greatest joke of 2013 because it cracked all the boys up. To add to the jocular mood the first guy added "She might need a 1000. Can't you see her skirt is expensive ?"

What can I say  except  "It's my fault !" It was New Year's eve and how dare I thought that I could enjoy a nice dinner with my friends? How could I even dare to think it was alright for me to want to look pretty and wear a skirt? I should have known men have eyes. And, since men also have mouths and no control, it was only natural that they would compliment me !

Remember that scene from Rowdy Rathore where Akshay Kumar pinches Sonakshi Sinha's waist? When Sonakshi Sinha asks him why he did that, he explains saying that he did try to control but his hand had a mind of its own , therefore he was not to blame . Just his hands. It was Sonakshi Sinha in a sari and her waist that forced him to do it. And ofcourse Sonakshi Sinha enjoys being harassed since he is the hero of the movie. So how can we blame the men of this country for saying things or grazing past a girl's breast or pinching their butt or raping and brutally murdering them? They don't want to do it. It is just their impulse.

And as Kalki Kochlin says it, at the end of it all, " It is my fault ! " Because I am a woman.

Social Experiment1 with PB1

As part of this Social Experiment, I also decided to incorporate another social experiment. The general behaviour of the XY chromosomes towards the XX chromosomes in this city. Maybe I should have given the heading as Sub Social Experiment. Hmm !!

Anyways my friend PB1 (the rocking sport that she is) agreed to be my accomplice on this one or rather the main instrument to get this experiment rolling.

This is her and this was her attire for the day.
1. A pair of washed dark blue denims.
2. A grey tank top.
3. An orange hoodie.
4. Brown Wedges.
5. Pink dewy lipstick and eyeliner.

She is smart, sassy, gorgeous, independent and she can walk that walk where it feels that the busy crowded roads of Kolkata are infact her private runway podium. 

So she walked ahead and me and SB walked behind her. (Thank you SB for saying the things that you did say on that walk to all those men !)

We walked from Spanish Cafe, Sudder Street to Park Hotel. We crossed 63 men ranging from the age of 12 to 62, covering all social strata and out of them only 12 did not stare at her breasts. Nowhere else. Just at her breasts. Like deers in front of headlights. A few of them stared rather disapprovingly as to why a woman is wearing clothes of her choice and showing more than expected chest area. As to why she has not used a stole or or a muffler to suffocate herself but in the process sticking to good-old tradition by preventing these men from having to acknowledge the fact that women have breasts. Most of them stared like they have never seen anything like it before with open lust in their eyes. Some of them actually did double takes. One guy while holding his very cute girlfriend's hand did a double take. They were not looks of appreciation. All of them were staring as if she is a piece of meat that they need to taste(Pardon the language !).

P.S. -  I want to give a disclaimer here. This incident just happened. It was not planned really. After noticing the pattern with men and the general direction they were looking I brought it to PB1 and SB's attention. That is when I decided to write this in the blog and asked for PB1's permission. She ofcourse readily agreed.