Calcutta in my heart.....

the story goes back more than 2 decades back to a small family settled in the heart of a bustling city we now know as Kolkata. A young boy was born on a fateful day of Sankranti - reminiscent of the fact that it marked also the day of the creator read “Karthik” of Hindu mythology. While he grew up knowing his alma-mater as Calcutta he took pride in the fact that Calcutta was unparalleled in its own sense – neither vast nor lonely as the capital Delhi and never ever on the move 24/7 like Mumbai. Warmth of its people and the cultural heritage it entailed (that was debatable by random acts of foolhardiness by its people) – always made it stand out amongst the contemporaries. While the education he received through the best schools and colleges in the state made him a little impulsive of performing the Herculean task of taking the world by its horns and bringing it down like the dreaded serpent in Greek mythology – its was few years later spending time away for further education and job life made him realize that there was lot more to life. And a lot more to what Calcutta had led him to believe – the naïve mind was in turn for a big jolt.

While in this years away from Calcutta which was later re-christened to Kolkata – the charm was probably lost with the change in name and maybe the change of heart. Maybe the alma–mater did not want a change – perhaps the name itself had come to epitomize its uniqueness. Somewhere yes the city seemed to have a change of heart with a change in name – the spirit of Calcutta was lost.

Coming back to the boys story – most of his friends had left a lot earlier post school or after college – either in other states of India or in the US. And most of them never came back – probably they in hindsight realized that the city was a lost cause. Inefficient politics and a care-not attitude of people – basically meant that the city was taken for granted. Seeing all the boy felt that he was alienated – the lakes, the streets and the skyline though apparently similar had somehow lost their calling – the glitzy malls and the glitter of people seemed to have drowned the voices of lil children playing in the parks, an odd couple sipping on a cup of coffee in coffee house or the cheer of boys fighting it out in the mud and drizzle in maidan.

The boy in between his years away from Calcutta had grown into a man – looking life from a much different angle that most of his age. Experience had taught him to be cautious and at least sometimes politically correct at certain situations. While all these years the family and his love – were the only reason for him to rush back once in a while – the city’s cold arms took the heat of his hearts emotion away, leaving love was so difficult. But what he realized much later – the love was lost long time back, the city’s cold menace has drowned his love in depths where his voice could not reach. The city he could no longer call home – he chose to remain aloof at times – not wanting to return at times conscious of the fact that the pain inside may not have subsided enough. The family back in Calcutta – was the only light at the end of the tunnel for which he made an occasional trip home. He visited many place throughout the years – saw the length and breadth of many and soaked in the cultures of many places – yet none could he call home. None where he could cuddle up in a monsoon afternoon after a round of khichdi and ilish mach – none where could look at the skyline and imagine going back all those years – those wonder years where life could be anything, you could challenge the world and dream to win, where the world was your oyster – where you had not actually grown up. Growing up sometimes takes away the romance in life – the city might have actually grown up – Calcutta might have been a uncanny teenager trying to find its feet in this world and ultimately found its feet – but I wonder how many of us would want the old Calcutta back.

Oh Calcutta – we want you back, to the glorious.

And coming back again to our story the lil boy was me – it’s the collective stories of millions of people that have shaped the story of Calcutta – the city is wired up with the collective emotions, the tribulations of its own citizens.

One of the biggest exponents of the talk show bizz in the States once commented, “The biggest adventure you can ever take is to live the life of your dreams”………….. – I wonder if we all tried a bit harder maybe our lives could have a lot better and the city could have taken a different shape over the years. But then again its normal human tendency to take the easy way out.

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