Victory beer

Kolkata

We returned to Kolkata early afternoon, after an anxious wait at the airport. Thick fog covered the entire ground at Badogra, and as we rode to the absolutely deserted airport, our thoughts turned to changing plans on the go, and driving the 700km to Kolkata to ensure we made our departing flight to Bangkok. We were only delayed half an hour, much to my relief.

The familiar yellow ambassadors greeted us at Kolkata. To once and for all prove our adeptness at travel, we encountered the usual rip-offs, only to sort ourselves with a bargain cab-ride some fifteen minutes later.

Our visit to Kolkata was a total mess really. Our flight was departing at 1:00am, so we reasoned we’d need to be at the airport at ten. Given the magnitude of the flight we erred towards caution. Nevertheless, we headed into downtown Kolkata for a whistle-stop tour.  

We spent about six hours on the ground, three hours of which we were in the taxi in gridlocked traffic (at least it was a luxurious, spacious ambassador cab), and three hours in the streets. Of those three hours, half were spent in a restaurant (nice, but not the best we’d had), and the other half wondering aimlessly in heavy traffic and ramshackle streets. Despite my rather downbeat assessment however, I do have quite a strong impression of the city and its streets, and think the images of trams cruising along wide streets, yellow ambassador cabs, and exhausted stained, decaying, crumbling British influenced buildings will remain in my head for a long time.

Finally, after enough aimless wondering, we decided to hail a cab and head for the airport, knowing the myriad of ways in which we could entertain ourselves (chess, cards, reading, writing, push-ups, idle chat, shopping, eating etc.). We did so, and got into the car, settling in for what would be our final ride in India, and one more glimpse of the sliding streets and ceaseless activity of the big city.  

Surreal would be the best way to describe that final hour.

We whirled through the traffic like we always did; the horns beeping, the cars pushed up against one another, the animals and motorcycles filling the gaps like blood running through veins. Outside the mountain of activity continued, sky-high buildings going up in what seems like hours, crowds of young men around constructions sites, and people everywhere, as usual. I suddenly flashed back to it all, riding a taxi through the dark streets of Delhi, walking that first, fearful alley, finding Andrew outside the hotel, the snarl, and traffic of Delhi, and the historical heart underneath; I thought of the trash pit of Agra, and the most beautiful of monuments, standing out proudly, the world beating a path to her door, Jaipur and the Pink City, my firsts sunsets, the kites soaring in the sky, dusty cricket fields, and Muslim prayers ringing out in the early evening. Udaipur and the shimmering lake, the dense white buildings, the mountains, the forts, and to Jodhpur, the Blue City, and packed, crowded activity, a ride in the countryside to Jailsalmer, and the magical camel ride. And off, again to Delhi, feeling the stink in my bones once more, the slums beside the tracks in clear view as we rode in early morning; down to Varanasi, and the smoke and heat from the burning bodies, flaring up the darkness, to Kolkata, the monstrosity, the dark mosh-pit; at last a break, in Darjeeling, the gentle hill town with views of purity and the simple delights of a people; back to Kolkata, and out, to the car, to the city, and finally, the last image, a small boy, curled up on the dusty floor, his hair, his clothes, his skin, the same colour as blackened exhaust, blending in with the earth as the they were one, he a tiny mouse against the monster of development in the background, an unfinished concrete block crowding out any light that would come this way – this is India, the light and the darkness, the hope and the despair, the rich and the poor, the India of ancient cities and air-conditioned shopping malls, this is India, at least, the one I know.

The last photo taken in India, snapped from a speeding car.

And above all, two timeless friends in the seat next to me, squashed up as usual, sharing in the magical experience of India, smiles far outweighing our weary bodies, and our spirits ready for the next adventure.   

Your correspondent

A bond cemented through shared acts of.... pleasure

  

The effervescent Swags