Oh, Calcutta!

ITC. 9 days in Sonar Bangla, 3 at Raichak. First friends outside of school and college. And what a long standing association that turned out to be.

Saturday evening flights from Mumbai during the World Cup. Sunday morning flights to Dhaka. And in between, conversations. At 10 PM, 2 AM and 5 AM. And what a life changer that turned out to be.

Seven years to the day when the city first greeted me with sights of unending palm trees. Through rain and flood and wading through knee-deep water, summer heat and monsoon wedding, from Tribeni house to late night walk through the old city lanes on drizzly evenings, watching the great metropolis slowly drift to sleep.

In this period, I have lived in godforsaken innards of the country, in Hyderabad, Bangalore, Mumbai, and Delhi. But the one constant in my life in this period hasn’t been any of these, but Kolkata.

I have a confession to make. For all my grumbling, mumbling and cursing, I think I am in love with Kolkata. I think I have always been in love with Kolkata. Ours has been a long distance relationship which has survived the test of time precisely by virtue of being that. And as long as I am just a passerby, and never a denizen, I think I will always be in love. And I will always want to be a passerby.

Bawra mann on the radio as I pass by the desolate structures of Rajarhat, across a rain swept street. Bliss.