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Published: October 2nd 2008
So lets get the dull stuff out of the way; the BNP+ AGM was as fruitless as expected. Well that’s not completely true I guess, there was some fruit, but it was decidedly sour. Ultimately though, little has changed at work now that the new board are in place, if anything, the even weaker leadership has led to even less happening. This doesn’t disappoint me as it’s nothing worse than expected, but it does hurt to think about the lack of support that all those amazing people on the ground are getting. Since the AGM, I have to say that I too have been pretty unproductive however; the motivation just isn’t there any more. Outside of work though, I’ve been on it, trying to make the most of Kolkata before I leave.
As I mentioned last time, Sept 17th was ‘Industrial God’ day. In the end we did get an unexpected day off which was most smiley, so Rose and I went exploring. It seems that this particular deity has a penchant for marigolds and banana leaves; the whole city was covered in them. The buses and tuctuc’s were particularly adorned with flowers festooned from every available nook. Excuse my
Birla Temple, Kolkata
Excuse the tram line cutting up my picture!Western sensibilities (again), but in a monsoon shower, the hand operated windscreen wiper on a tuctuc is insufficient at the best of times, but then drape scores of flowers over the windscreen so that the wiper becomes inoperable and an already perilous ride becomes knuckle-whittening! Anyway, we did finally make it safe and sound to the city. We had decided to explore the northern part as we’d yet to go up there and were treated to a very different side of Kolkata. This is the old city with the former colonial grandeur and the windy, characterful streets. It’s just as neglected and pitiful as the rest of the city, but it still has an interesting vibe and is crying for attention. Whilst wondering around we eventually found a remarkable set of temples. By this time it was dark and so I’m afraid there are no pictures to speak of. They’re Jain Temples which make them thankfully very different from Hindu ones. Not that I don’t love Hindu Temples, but really there are only so many you need to see! The façade of these buildings was almost completely of mirrors and tiles. Somehow it transcended kitsch into a whole new realm
Sculptures at Kumartuli
This is a shocking picture, but it gives the general idea. of wonderment. The guy at door was proudly espousing the Temples’ international credentials; ‘the tiles are from England, the glass is from Belgium, the marble is from Italy’, but these are Indian buildings through and through and perversely beautiful for that excess.
The other aesthetic joy of our ‘Industrial God’ day (I really must learn his name!) was that Kolkatan’s use it as an excuse to go kite-flying, why they need an excuse I don’t know, but it did make for a gorgeous spectacle. As you’ll probably know, this part of the world is particular known for its kite-flying and it is done with great ardour and prowess. The skies came alive for that afternoon and it made for some good viewing. It has to be said however that the city’s trees have formed a reluctant graveyard for wayward kites ever since, so maybe that prowess comes at a cost? The other lovely thing we did that day was to visit Kumartuli, it’s a small suburb which would be pretty non-descript if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s famous for its Durga-making. I included some images of the statue-making before. Here in Kumartuli though, every other shop is
making them and they don’t come bigger or better. Apparently, the most impressive go for Rs 40,000 (£500), a very tidy sum here and enough to enable the sculptors to shut up shop for the other half of the year. No doubt I’ll be spouting very much more about Durga and the statues in my next blog after Puja.
On a different visit to the North of the city, we went to visit another of BNP+’s district level networks which was great - the Kolkata network is the longest running and has been going 3 years longer than BNP+ itself and so it’s a joy to see how things can be done. After our visit we went to see another Jain Temple, this one was less impressive, but we had a classic Monsoon moment which made the trip very worth it. We visited just after a major downpour. We’re pretty hardcore tourists these days and so weren’t worried about some light rain and a few puddles. When we arrived, the place was a ghost town. It is a unique experience in India to find peace let alone solitude: with the exception of the security guard, there was not a
Paper-Making 1
We used the Nepalise traditional method of paper making. They usually make this pulp from a bark which is only found in the Himalayas so rather than plunder this resource, we used a local alternative - the husks of banana stem. single other person there. We entered and very quickly realised why. The whole place was under a considerable depth of water. Not to be outdone by some pesky flooding, we rolled up our trousers and waded through the lake that, no more than an hour previously, was a beautifully manicured garden (we’re told!). The comedy-value of Monsoon tourism is likely to be lost in translation, but we were amused.
Our other recent ‘Monsoon moment’ was less amusing and more spectacular. We were at the Tolly Club swimming pool having our periodic dose of Westernised indulgence, when a storm hit. Storms are often relatively brief and so we were happy to read our books under the pagoda and wait for it to pass, but it didn’t, so we gave in to it and went swimming in the rain. The water was of course beautifully warm and so was a real pleasure, while we were swimming the storm picked up and the rain began to lash down on us with quite a ferocity. The pool began to dance: crystal stalagmites of water pinched themselves from the surface with such grace, as if a great chandelier had been dropped from the weeping
Paper-Making 2
The pulp is then mixed endlessly with water until it just looks like dirty water and then the glue is added. The natural glue used is also really hard to come by and expensive so we used Hibiscus instead. clouds. Submerging out of harm’s reach, the beat of the storm was deafening as it pounded the surface. There was, unsurprisingly, no one else in the pool and so Rose and I danced around in this scene like school children. It was utterly stunning. After ten minutes the black sky cracked open to make way for electric fissures, through which came the phenomenal purple skies that I’ve come to absolutely love. I’m not quite sure why it hadn’t occurred to either of us before, I guess having fun gives you a sense of abandonment, but it wasn’t until a lightning bolt cracked within metres of the pool and until our hearts had restarted that it almost literally struck us just how mad it was being in water during an electric storm! I guess the world was looking after us that day as we could have easily fried, but already it’s a really special memory.
Last weekend, Rose and I were invited to the home of one of my lovely colleagues, Bimal. He lives in a small town North of Kolkata called Shyamnagar. We went, met his family and his girlfriend and had a tour of all his musical instruments
Paper-Making 3
This frame is then used to filter out just enough of the extremely thin pulp in the water to cover the sheet and then harden into paper. The stack in the foreground is the paper that the group made. - they’re a remarkably talented family - and then, after a lovely lunch, just chilled out for the afternoon, it was so nice to see a comfortable Bengali family home and indeed to spent time with such lovely people.
At the risk of obsessing about all things ‘trains’; the journey up to Shyamnagar, whilst unremarkable on the scale of things, did make me think. We went from Sealdah station; its Kolkata’s other massive station and is much more for commuters than the long distance travellers that Howrah caters for. Sealdah is, unsurprisingly, a real experience, utter mayhem of course, but what struck me while waiting on the platform was just how much large Indian train stations are a snap shot of India itself. Maybe this is too broad a generalisation and really, who am I to make it, but train stations, it seems, are rare things in that they host the interactions of a whole cross-section of society, not just one particular community or group. Maybe indeed, all of the world’s large train stations are mirrors in some way for the cultures that they serve? At Sealdah you see an impressive colonial building weeping under neglect; you see the
Paper-Making 4
This is us getting fancy on smaller bits of paper. The leaves are placed on an extremely thin piece of paper and then sealed in by covering them with a second. endless queues and the black market alternative; you see the fruit sellers, Pann stalls and a multitude of other hawkers seizing an opportunity; you see glamorous women bedecked in jewellery and stunningly embroidered saris of every colour imaginable as they step over street people too ashamed to catch their eye. You see friends holding hands and you see police with large guns. There are street kids laughing and joking, there are rabid dogs being kicked by everyone. Mobile phones ring incessantly while the crackly tannoy announcement informs the waiting masses of another cancelled train due to flooding - in three languages. The temples on each platform are draped with flowers as passers-by cross themselves in deference to Kali, their mother, whilst the call to Prayer rings loud from beyond platform 22. Whilst the torn T-shirts and bloodied foreheads of the station’s overworked porters contrasts with the air-conditioned apathy of its office workers, I was left wondering where I fitted in? Or if I did? One of the things that particularly caught my eye this time I was at Sealdah was a massive group of prisoners flanked by numerous armed police officers and tied together with rope. I’m assuming they travelled
Freak Fruit!
Sadly, I could only find one ripe one to take a picture of, but you see my point. on the train with everyone else and of course there’s really no reason why not, but it struck me as odd nevertheless. It disappoints me to notice that my immediate blink thought upon seeing this sight was ‘there’s a large bunch of tied up criminals’. It wasn’t until the following instant that a bit of worldliness returned to my thoughts and it struck me that the guys with guns were likely to be every bit as ‘criminal’ as those tied up. And where does that judgement come from? A couple of moments later, I finally think, ‘hold on a second, maybe some or even all of these men being subject to public humiliation are completely innocent, maybe they were just dissenting, maybe they are the unwitting victims of scapegoating’ - they certainly wouldn’t be the first, or the last. It makes me a little angry that my society has brainwashed me so thoroughly that these are my second and third thoughts, not my blink response. It also reminds me of my responsibility to change that. Oh well, enough of that, I need to descend from my soap box before I get a nose bleed.
He says… and then swiftly proceeds to remount said box! While we’re still on the subject of random cultural observations, I thought I’d share a few more little nuggets of understanding that still elude me. By the way, don’t let my exclamations convince you that I have a genuine ‘issue’ with any of these things, just that I find them, in equal parts, amazing and unfathomable. Ok, so we know I love Kolkata’s buses, but there are a few little tweaks I’d make. For a start, why oh why do Indian bus manufacturers insist on putting the petrol cap INSIDE the bus? Buses always fill up with petrol when they are full of passengers as their time is more precious than yours. The pump attendant comes on board, pushes through the amassed passengers and then goes under one of the seats on the other side of the bus from where he can fill up the petrol tank whilst simultaneously poisoning all the passengers with the toxic fumes. He then removes the pump, dripping petrol all over the wooden floor of the bus and everything gets back to normal, including the ‘strictly prohibited’ practice of smoking! Related to this point, why on earth do the exhaust pipes of lorries and buses come out of the side of the vehicle? It’s clearly a joy to sit low to the ground in a tuctuc waiting in a traffic jam literally 20 cm from the neighbouring bus’s exhaust pipe! The pollution in this city is shocking and getting worse as winter approaches, but getting close enough that your practically chewing toxins is mind-blowing … and no doubt lung collapsing! Everything in Bengal is designed for hobbits. I’m tall, but not especially right? Wrong! Here, I’m apparently a giant and it’s my own fault that the world isn’t big enough for me. The windows on some of the buses are so low that even when I’m sat down I struggled to see where we are out of them! This issue is by no means confined to the buses. My bathroom door is 5ft 6 and I can’t get into cycle rickshaws when it’s raining as the hood is too low. The list goes on. What’s so mad is that there are of course plenty of tall Bengalis about. Yes, people are generally shorter here but lets be reasonable! … Phew! Ok, that’s off my chest now!
As a bit of an aside, I need to tell you about ‘freak fruit’. It’s a fruit I discovered in the last couple of weeks. They are quite literally evil looking. They’d make an excellent cover picture for the album of a heavy metal band. They tend to be deep purple with bits of black and dark green. They’re literally a perfect heart shape, but for two very substantial and unforgiving spikes sticking out from either side. The skin is hard and crinkled like Freddie Kruger’s face. Inside it’s a pretty innocuous fruit which tastes very slightly of apples, is highly perfumed and has the texture of water chestnuts. What it’s called is anyone’s guess, but freak fruit suits perfectly well for now! At the moment custard apples are in season as well so it’s not all bad.
Well yesterday I managed to inadvertently create all sorts of drama. I’ve been having some minor dental issues and decided that I should get a filling done on a tooth that has been playing up, just in case it flairs when I’m out in the countryside. So off I go, find myself a shiny dentist and get a quote. Its way higher than I’d hoped and so I call VSO asking if they’d pay. As I describe my tooth pain, my programme officer is in her car in seemingly noisy surroundings and so, it transpires, she mistakenly hears ‘chest pain’. I, not realising her mistake was just pleased that she was so willing to pay ‘whatever the costs’. I went ahead and had some treatment during which time of course I wasn’t able to answer my phone. Meanwhile VSO call back trying to check that I’d found some medical attention and got scared when I didn’t answer my phone. They had no idea where I was as I had felt no need to tell them and so panic ensued. The whole of Thakurpukur was out looking for the White Man and his heart attack; BNP+, my landlady, Rose and a multitude of other mutual acquaintances were called and with each call VSO got more worried. Twenty minutes later, I immerge from my treatment to a barrage of missed calls and Rose finally gets through to bring the confusion to light. All very dramatic, but it’s great to know that VSO do actually keep their promise of immediate support in medical emergency. It’s also nice to know that they gave a damn. Unfortunately I’ve had everyone in the neighbourhood inquiring about my health every since, if it wasn’t quite so endless I’d be touched. The dental work is on hold by the way.
Well that’s it. Thursday was my last day at work for BNP+ and the first time for ages that I walked to work with a smile on my face - though my morning grump usually has more to do with Bakrahat Road, than BNP+. It was also the first time I realised that I will actually be missed in the office which was good for my soul. So now I’m free - some how though, I don’t feel it. The walls of this city are built of conservatism, bureaucracy, negativity and intensity; they make it pretty impenetrable in my opinion. I know that I’ll be looking back with some fondness, yet my smile will grow with every mile that separates me from Kolkata. Before that moment however, I’ve yet more visa issues to contend with; I still haven’t been granted my visa extension after two months and about 6 visits to the Snakes & Ladders set. I’m now told that it’ll be at least another month unless I go to Delhi myself, which is blatantly not going to happen. This waiting is all very well, but my legal status at the moment is such that I’m ok all the time I’m in India, but I’m not allowed to leave. I’m planning to head to Bangladesh on Oct 16th so this poses a few difficulties. Needless to say that the intricacies of this issue aren’t interesting, but trying to resolve it has taken up much of the last week and the remainder of my frayed nerves, no doubt next week will be more of the same.
Meanwhile however, I have had some moments of being inside those impenetrable Kolkatan walls - there is, I’m pleased to say a vibrant soul in there waiting to be discovered. Kolkata is famed in India for it’s amazing artisan culture and I’ve been teased with a whiff of it enough times to sense its presence, but little more. In the last few days however, I’ve been welcomed on a brief, but oh so nourishing introduction. Saswati, another of my lovely colleagues at work is beautiful well connected and specifically has some great friends who are artists. They’re just launching a new studio that they’ve painstakingly built themselves and this week is its inauguration. They are hosting a 5-day course on traditional paper making. I was hugely tempted to go along just to be part of something funky and meet some amazing people, but sadly I don’t have the time to complete the whole course. However, I was asked to go to the welcome party and to have a nose around their studio on Saturday evening. It was so amazing. Blatantly I was the White Man as always, and so was overly-hosted, but I was also Saswati’s friend and thus was vicariously loved and welcomed as a genuine friend. I met some of the warmest and most genuine people, enjoyed their music and song and was captivated by their project to create a network of multi-disciplinary artists across West Bengal. I was also invited back to the studio to see the paper making in action on Monday morning and had one of the most fun times since I arrived in India. Not only was I made to feel like a special guest without being a freak show, but I also met loads more phenomenal people and got in there and had a go. So fascinating and great to begin with raw bark and end with your very own piece of handmade paper. I really enjoyed my brief time at the studio, but I also got from it a vital drip-feed of smiliness which I’m hoping will sustain me through the impending visa nightmares. Indeed, Bimal and his girlfriend treated Rose and I to a scrummy meal out afterwards and so it was one big fest of gorgeousness.
I’m pleased to say that the happiness theme also continued into this week. Monday afternoon I went to continue my tourism mission and indeed the art theme, by heading to the Centre for International Modern Art (CIMA) and a gallery of Adivasi (tribal) artists. Both were beautiful, as was the amazing Birla Temple next door. The highlight was then a visit to Dolly’s. It’s a gorgeous cosy little festival-esque tea house that is friendly and cheap. Dolly herself welcomes you with a massive smile and you get to choose from a massive range of tea, this in a country where, if it isn’t black tea white-washed with milk and choked with sugar, then it isn’t tea! Thank goodness for Dolly. She made me very happy indeed! Tuesday saw me amble up to the Ramakrishna Mission, just because I’m in Kolkata so it’d be rude not to. They even have Swami Vivyakanada’s bed on show for all the Pilgrims, but I’m afraid much of it was lost of my philistine self. Having said that, it was a beautiful and peaceful spot on the Hooghly (Ganges) river; a rare and impressive thing in its own right. Then today, so much joy I could hardly contain myself! I know I’ve asked before, but have you seen Mama Mia the movie yet? If not, why not? Get down there now!!! I went this afternoon and howled my way through it. Terrible singing and pretty thin as far as plot goes, but let’s face it, that SO isn’t the point; I really didn’t care as my grin refused to let go. Camp? … Row of tent!!!!!! I’m pleased to say that there’s now much promise for happiness becoming a running theme. Tomorrow is Eid, which marks the last day of Ramadan, the most important month in the Muslim calendar. Next week is Durga Puja, by far the most important period in the Bengali Hindu calendar. Basically all this means that the fast majority of Kolkata’s 15 million people will be on the streets celebrating for the next 10 days, and I intend to join them!
So, enough already. I’ll leave you with that little dose of optimism. Sending you all much smiliness and lots of love as always, Me.xx
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Paul and Andy
Mama Mia, here I go again, My My...
Ahhh, I saw the stage show. Which was fab and have seen endless trailers of the film and it looks dreadfull (Shame Miss Walters put her name to it). Poor Meryl, thinking she could sing! But yes your rights its all about the camp. Well Mr, good luck for the rest of your travels. I am glad your last day was smiley and YES you will be missed in the office, of course. It sounds like you have been having lots of fun and adventure leading up to the next chapter. Oh dear about the teeth and the miss understanding about chest pain. I am sure you got really bad chest pains at health promotions in Bristol...?? Well big love from me and Andy. We are in La Paz right now, nice! We are chilling out for a few days...ropa washing, postcards, shopping, lots of cable tv whatching in our nice hotel room (Its soooo nice to have BBC world! instead of bloody CNN), fixing cameras etc...all those boring jobs you do when you travel. Although we just spent 3 lush days in the Amazon basin, bobbing up the river beni and spotting mucho wildlife...esp CABABARAS (Ahhhh sooo cute and Andys fave animal) Anyway Ow...Love and hugs, Paulo y Andy x Oh, I wanna send some postcards, Shall I send them to your parents or Jen and Hans...? And Costa Rica, we will be there mid November..so I guess not part of your plans. We will be home at the end of Jan..1st Feb, In fact. We will be back to Bristol for a few days to find somewhere to live and then Plymuff..and then bloody job hunting. xxxx