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Published: June 15th 2008
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That’s it. Summer is over. The monsoon has well and truly arrived. Thank goodness.
Last week was a three-day working week - hehe! Bengal had yet more strike days, this time, two consecutive ones. Only now am I beginning to get a true sense of what lies behind these days and what they actually mean to Bengalis. Last week I made the grave mistake of referring to our two days off as ‘holiday’ - my colleagues were not amused… really not! Bandhs as these strike days are called, are somewhat of a political game, played out with real people as pieces and poor people as the predestined losers. Bandhs are generally called by political parties these days; usually the ruling party, but sometimes the opposition in retaliation. The idea is that state workers who are loyal to the party will strike, cause a little mayhem and in the process gather a little political clout at national level for the cause of the moment. Bare in mind that the state and national governments are at either ends of the political spectrum. The thing is that ‘a few state workers not going to work’ has a far broader impact than you might imagine. In a centralised economic such as that of West Bengal, many industries here are owned by the state, not least, public transport - thus no-one else can travel round this vast city (few people have cars), hence, in reality, almost no-one goes to work. Originally, Bandhs were about giving people a voice and were very much an uprising of the oppressed in a very traditional left wing kind of way, and 30 years ago, they were an extremely effective way for the population to send a message to state government. However, it wasn’t too many years before they went out of fashion. People started to realise that not only was the state losing patience with them due to the massive impact and the shear frequency of these strikes - national and international corporations were moving their business elsewhere - but also it was the people on the street who were being hit the most.
Unfortunately, Bandhs stopped too late to prevent Bengal getting itself a reputation as a state of lazy and angry people, and it is this reputation which has been the driver of Kolkata’s decline ever since - from what was a beautiful and prosperous former capital city to what is very much a shabby, ugly provincial sprawl oozing with poverty - all very sad to see. You just need to stand on any street in the city centre and look around you, then look up for the comparison - at the tops of the buildings - you’ll be transported back 100 years; the evidence of former grandeur still exists deep beneath the struggles of today’s poverty. There is little money in Kolkata, businesses are scared to operate in this state as staff are too keen on having rights.
As I’ve said, Bandhs are now well and truly back on the scene. As they used to be the ‘popular tool of the people’, the ruling communist party have decided in their wisdom that there may be mileage in using them to win back the popular vote (for the first time since they came to power 30 years ago, the communist are seeing some dissent) - thus Bandhs have now been bastardised for this purpose. Thing is of course, they seem to have forgotten that the people have now learnt their lesson and know just what a shocker these days are - they only really hurt the people on the ground and ministers in Delhi don’t give a damn. The reality is that shop keepers, rickshaw-wallahs, bus conductors and thousands of other people who are just managing to stay above the bread line, lose there source of income for that day and go hungry. No wonder people now despise Bandhs and are less than happy with idea that they are a ‘holiday’ - ouch! Worse still, people who do manage to get to work and go against the Bandh by opening up a shop or running a taxi service for example, tend to get attacked for their trouble and won’t be doing it again (there are still large numbers of people with extreme political affiliation here).
The bitter irony of last week’s Bandh was that it was supposed to be a protest to national government about the runaway inflation in the country (approaching 10%!)(MISSING), thus the state government was protesting about the fact that people couldn’t afford to buy food, but depriving people of their daily bread (British slang for money) in the process - go figure! This last Bandh actually cost West Bengal state an estimated £150million (phenomenal sums when you take the purchasing power into consideration). One of the things this Bandh has done for me is to put my whole experience into perspective. It really shows up the holes in society. Out of necessity, people here, like anyone on the breadline I guess, are incredibly good at plugging those holes, but you take their plug from them and very quickly there’s nothing left. I was forgetting just how poor people are here, just how grim the clothes that they wear are, so easy to do when the smiles that they wear are so crisp, back to that saving-face thing which is so culturally ingrained.
You may have gathered by the amount I’m going on about this that Bandhs are massive news here at the moment, this is because of the unbelievable hike in food and gas prices, but it’s also symptomatic of a general sense of political instability in the state. The localised riots around election time last month are just one example - for some inexplicable reason, it seems people are fed up with being poor! There are also masses of separatist movements in Bengal. Darjeeling in particular has completely had enough. People in that area don’t speak Bengali, they are financially much better off than the rest of the state and they are culturally Gurka, so understandably they want to be independent or indeed they’re even backing a compromise plan to split off and join Sikkim to the north. Either way, as you may have heard in the international news, the separatists gave notice last week to all foreign tourists in the area that they should leave immediately. Sadly, those that didn’t do so quickly enough were then attacked. It’s really very messy up there at the moment. I was actually going to go up soon for work, but that’s off now. I was also hoping to head up there for some Himalayan trekking in October, but that’s now in doubt too.
Anyway, enough of the macro stuff, back to me and my microcosmic world - its all about me! One of the by-products of the Bandh was of course that I’ve had loads of spare time recently - though not holiday you understand! Last week I tried to catch a couple more tourist spots. The most exciting and unpleasant of which was the Kali Temple. Admittedly, exciting and unpleasant is generally a problematic combination, but in this case it just made for a valuable experience. Kali is a Hindu god and one of the two that Kolkatans especially revere. She’s the goddess of destruction and is depicted in black, with eight arms, each carrying the head of a dead man. She always has her tongue stuck out and… has beautiful hair! So basically she’s delightful, though I’m told she only destroys things and people so that wonderful new things and people can come along in their place. Anyway, her temple is one of the few famous temples which remain in daily use as a worshipping house. We were led barefoot by our ‘guide’ (read: random bloke looking for any excuse to ask us for money) through the muddied marble alleyways of the inner temple. The floor was strewn with the disregards of careless pilgrims baring floral offerings. I have to admit that the amassing crowds soon forced me to add my sense of calm to the disregards. As it was duly trampled beneath the baying masses, I became increasingly more agitated. Our guide by this point was playing the ‘white-people-coming-through’ card, but I was having none of it and stood hyperventilating in the corner while Rosalyn almost literally fought for her view of the shrine. Eventually we found sanctuary outside only to be confronted with an unwanted reminder of Bakrahat Road; blood started to lap at my sandals. I looked up just in time to see some poor creature being ritually and barbarically sacrificed. Ten minutes later, after Rose had come after to me to see if I’d recovered, it amused me to hear that apparently vegetarians sacrifice coconuts! Not so odd I’m told, as coconuts are a key part of the Hindu religion… what do I know?
The other big tourist spot we managed was BBD Bagh, it used to be called Delousie Square and was the home to the leaders of Calcutta when it was the capital of the commonwealth, and thus, it’s a little swanky. Well, I say that, but as I mentioned earlier, even the grandest buildings here are showing signs of tiredness. Much more interesting to me than the square, was College Street, just down the road a bit. The whole street is one permanent outdoor book market; it is really quite something. The street has to be a mile long and is full of road-side huts on both sides all the way along. It’s a book-buyers paradise - as you’ll imagine, they’re all dirt cheap as well. In amongst all the browsing and amazing chatter we did eventually tire and fortuitously found ourselves at the Indian Coffee House. This place is an Indian institution and Kolkatans are justly proud of it. It’s a phenomenal colonial ballroom and balcony that has been converted into the Indian version of a greasy spoon! It’s an absolute treat. Not only that, but it holds a special place at the heart of every Indian soul, for it was in this cavernous eatery, that academics and local people’s leaders from across Bengal gathered to plot and co-ordinate one of the biggest moments in Indian history; National Independence. It’s not for nothing that Bengalis are known for their politic activism. That a few inspired people sat over coffee in that building and achieved such greatness absolutely adds an air of grandeur to the place, far beyond what a makeover of its fabric could possibly achieve. I LOVE it there!
As some kind of freak extremism, I followed this lovely trip with an afternoon at the Mall! Now, I have to admit that I’ve put my shopping centre embargo on hold whilst I’m here because, well because they have air conditioning for one! Also because they sometimes have a western food shop and the joy of buying brown bread, muesli and toilet roll is too much to resist. However, despite all these things, the Mall was utterly hideous in the extreme. What was I thinking? It was full of white people for a start. Beware the white people! - almost exclusively they’ll be on a mission - in the very disturbing and literal sense of the word. I guess that’s the by-product of being Mother T’s ex-haunt. Anyway…. digress-tastic!... Mall, white people, oh yes, in fact there wasn’t a point, I was just waffling. Suffices to say that, Kolkata’s attempt to hit the 21st century by providing a safe haven for those poor desperate missionaries is noted and valued for maintaining the cities tradition of great works for the needy!
So anyway, what about the rest of my life here? Well, I STILL have no gas, no mobile phone, no police registration, no bank account and so on… nothing much has changed there, just that I’ve become much poorer. Oh, also I have now regained my weight which is all very jolly. I’ve been feeling bad about landing on Rosalyn’s doorstep for dinner each evening and so instead have been eating at the restaurants in Behala (half an hour away) more often, this is outside of my budget, but very lovely and I decided my health needed some attention. The gas thing is becoming quite desperate actually. The price of gas here went up 17%!i(MISSING)n May alone, there was panic buying and now there is massive hording. Thus, even if I do eventually get a government gas connection, which is unlikely, getting hold of any gas to use with it is looking equally challenging. Meanwhile, I’ve never been so desperate to make myself a meal in my own home. When it eventually happens, it will be a happy happy day. The guys in the pastry shop down the road think I’m hysterical. I go in their nearly everyday for one meal or other and they are convinced I’m incapable of cooking and thus pretty pathetic for eating pastries every day. I’m not sure if they think it’s my whiteness of my maleness that is to blame as both are viewed here with a subtext of ‘incapable’ in flashing neon.
At home, my flat is now looking pretty lovely - it still has bare walls (hint hint) - but otherwise I’m getting there now. I just bought a gorgeous floor cushion the other day which is bed-sized for when guests come so that’s very smiley. I’m planning for my three mates from the Delhi training course to come and see me in July; can’t wait. I had no idea just how important not just these people would be, but also everyone from that course. I’ve not spoken to most of them, bit just knowing they are there and that they are having the same angsts as I am is so reassuring. It’s actually quite astonishing to hear how harsh some of their experiences have been. My friend Rachel only got somewhere to live on Tuesday. Actually, the stories are many and varied, so maybe another time. I’m actually booked to go with Rosalyn to Varanasi next Friday for a mini holiday and I’m hoping Rachel will come too so we can have a much needed empathy session. I’m not sure if Rosalyn and I need to spend a little less time with each other… we have the oddest relationship; a mix of dependence, respect, empathy and compassion. It works, but it’s not like any friendship I’ve ever had before. What we do do well, is cook together. We’ve made some pretty fabulous meals if I do say so myself. This week we’ve been deliberately adventurous. As I was saying before, there are masses of foods here that just aren’t available in Europe so it’s been interesting to explore them. Most interesting was Banana Flower. Its something I’d seen sold in Kenya, but had never had a chance to cook. It tastes really lovely, but the real joy is in the preparation. It takes over an hour of hands on time to prepare a large one which is great as it then becomes the excuse to get everyone to help and have a good social catch up - we got a friend and our landlady round to help us, all sat on the floor and sang at each other - gorgeous! By the way, another top discovery was Jack Fruit, they sell tinned ones in the UK, but they’re grim. Fresh ones are SO beautiful; they taste of Mango and Banana Smoothie! It feels important to inform you that I’ve finally had my first proper foray into Bollywood movies, and a very smiley cheese-tastic one it was too - oh, and I was watching not performing, give me a couple of months! Oddly, I saw ‘Sex in the City’ at the cinema last night and it surprised me just how Bollywood it is some ways. I guess the basics of a cheesy movie are pretty ubiquitous. I must admit to having the occasional chuckle, though its hardly a great movie. This weekend though I’ve been to an amazing world cinema festival in the City Centre, even more amazing for the fact that the screenings were free. I saw a couple of absolutely stunning films and a couple of good ones, not bad going I reckon.
Ok, so I’m going to leave you with a piece of advice - Turn Right! What is it with our lives that means we always have to follow the same path down the same street to the same bus each and every day? (ok, I know I’m the only person on the planet that uses public transport any more, but give me a break). I always turn left on to Bakrahat Road from my place because that’s the direction I need to go for what I need to do. The other day I turned right; I didn’t need to, I had no idea where I was going, I just felt like turning right. I walked for over an hour and found a really vibrant community that I knew nothing about. I know this is no revolution, but I bet each and every one of you pass a track, or road daily that you’ve never been down. I reckon you should make it your mission to explore it this week. Hey, you could even write and tell what you found. Happy exploring. Xxxxx
Ps. it seems I underestimated the post and it’s actually taking as much as 3 weeks to get from me to you, so huge apologies to all of you who got/are getting birthday cards shockingly late.
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