Day Twenty Five: The British Era

Day Twenty Five February 15th, 2009

I awoke in my small den and proceeded to work the snooze like never before even though I had gone to bed relatively early. I did however need to get out of bed to meet the guide that I had hired at 11am. Rising reluctantly from bed, I walked down the dimly lit staircase that lets out onto a small ally filled with more dingy hotels and cell phone vendors. The street nearby is completely broken from roadwork, something which I only see in progress and never in a finished state. I have now learned that walking down the nearby cross street, Sutter St., is like walking a gauntlet filled with all of India pleading for your attention and ultimately your money.

As I walk down the street I think to myself, "self, who deserves your money today?" Is it the gaunt man surfing around on a makeshift skateboard because he has no legs? Or how about the woman with four children sleeping on the sidewalk? Maybe the man pulling the rickshaw who probably hasn't worked all day deserves my Rupees for a bowl of rice. If I sound a bit cynical it is because the in your face poverty is so very difficult to understand.

Trying to avoid eye contact I remember why I was walking down this particular street in the first place, to find something to slow the rate at which food was going through my body. The chemist knew exactly what to take and I was grateful for his expediency.

After a small breakfast of dry toast and fried eggs I walked down to the Fire Brigade building, the landmark where I would meet with my guide, David. At this point I had spoken with David on the phone a couple times and new that his company, Kali Home Travel, came highly recommended and was looking forward to a new perspective on the city. Setting the time at 11am I wasn't sure if that meant 11 according to a westerner or an Indian since he is Australian. After a good twenty minutes of time spent reading and saying no to persistence rickshaws in front of the Fire Brigade I am greeted by a tall, thin man with a very kind face. He was softspoken yet sure of himself. I was already happy to have him show me around the city.
We spent the next four hours or so walking through various markets and neighborhoods. Each market specializing in a particular product. The most exciting was the party district, where each shop sold a bright and colorful assortment of streamers, banners and every kind of party favor imaginable. We walk through the flower market which presents itself in a floury of color and noise mixed with the sweet smell of flowers and the decay of the leaves underfoot. Over the Howrah Bridge, the busiest bridge in the world with cars buses and loads of foot traffic including porters carrying massive bundles of flowers on their heads, we walk down to a ferry which takes us further up the Hooghly River. We get off in a section of the city which is away from the large lanes of traffic. Here we follow narrow lanes that are lined with beautiful and ornate mansions, now dilapidated and split up between many families, they were once owned by the wealthy Indian landowners. Not far away is the artist district, during the few months leading up to the festivals of the city this area is bursting with bright and colorful sculptures of Hindu gods and goddesses. We are able to peak into a few studios and talk with one shop owner. Most studios are close since the next major festival won't be for a few more months.
David escorts me back to the neighborhood in which I was staying my way of Calcutta's sole subway line. The underground stations and trains are not unlike those one would see in New York or London. Happy to have seen much of the city with the perspective of a resident I head back to my room for a respite from the pollution and the heat.