Oh Calcutta!

And here it comes after several riots with the over opinionated self. The inquisitive immigrant from Calcutta with broken Hindi accent and absolutely no intention of homogenizing cultures, is surprised at the debasing and immodest attitude of the city's service providers. In the land where 'burqa' stands for modesty, the preying devourers never fail to leave you unattended while over charging you for food, auto-fare, lodging and the list grows longer everyday. Kudos to the IT animals, who have chosen to be looted, plundered and stripped of all their assets.

The immense pride that I take is not just in being a Bengali, but the fact that I hail from the land inhabited by decent and humble people. And to replicate one you have to be an integral part of the city.Yes, we react vehemently to the tiniest provocation, we are chaotic and stand out the noisiest in the crowd, we don't own a clean and green city with broad metalled roads everywhere, we don't have a Bengali Tata-Birla icon or giant infrastructure like other metros. We rather value emotions and ethics, endorse the might of pen in poetry and passion for art. We might be tagged as one of the most commercially unstable states, but the state has produced the best economists. We appreciate indulgence in literature, politics, cinema and artistry. The politically sound 'bhadrolok'  (gentleman) with a sharply etched view on the world news is whom we support.

It feels magical, and nostalgia overruns me the moment I step into the Dum Dum Airport. My Calcutta! The city with a soul. It is the charm of the city that entangles you like no other city does. The city still breathes through the boulevards of Rabindra Sangeet , opus of Manna De and genesis of Satyajit Ray. This is the city where you would still find Rs. 4 as Auto fare for some 2 kms, three-rupee chai in tiny earthen pots called 'bhaar', and big samosas for Rs. 5.  The slight dash of arrogance that comes with the subtle bong intellectualism crossed with the feeling of superiority after proving someone wrong, is a rare breed in India, found only in Kolkata.

There is lot to learn from the city, like they say, 'what Calcutta thinks today, India thinks tomorrow'. Living in Calcutta means, a bit of it will go with you wherever you go. With true Bengalism running in my veins, it becomes little difficult to amalgamate between indigenous cosmopolitanism and ethnicity. The love and zest for life is what makes Calcutta unique, and alluring.

New Techie in the City

"Good morning. Welcome to the first rays of corporate sun. You have felt the early morning warmth and twitter of birds in the ambiance, you will also feel the mid day scorch, the exasperation of late noon and drained thirst of late afternoon.. but there is the refreshing breeze of evening to compensate at the end.", read the first sms of the day. It was from my sister, and unofficially the first welcome message, a few moments before the gala corporate induction.

As I sit to pen down my thoughts on this eve of Dashami, I get goose bumps all over. However, I am going to make sure you dont get it. Completing 3 weeks of stay in the 'city of Nawabs'(i know it gives a royal feel and yes it was a grand welcome from my organization) and this is the first weekend with salary. Well, I am happy. Yet, not like those who are sharing it back at their homes. One thing that Hyderabadis strikingly expertise in is showing off their gut while crossing the road, driving past a red light and ignoring all sort of

traffic rules.  It took me 10 mins to cross a road during the first few days. No cars stop at signals, unless its a very big junction. And pedestrians assume these roads to be some marathon track with an exception of moving obstacles on the way. I will take at least two years to get myself accustomed to their "safety" rules.

The first taste of corporate culture was undoubtedly elating. Office hours is followed by the same chai-er dokan e adda like we have it in Kolkata with my Bengali mates here. The tea of this particular shop is astonishingly tasty and consequently addictive. Food has not been a big problem since I came here, as much as I thought it would be.
It happens to be one of the safest cities I came across so far, especially at night and now I know why the police remains dormant in the daytime. The cool breeze blowing wind through my hair, music in my ears, the dim lit moon above the lighted highways and see myself leave the city behind , all by myself in a bus after the 'saptami bhuri bhoj' at midnight made me own this city...

Coming to my favourite topic, food. Being proned to hyperacidity and owning a sensitive stomach I tend to avoid the sour dal and curries as much as possible. However, being a bong foodie and a sweet lover at the same time, I love the patent Hyderabadi sweet called "Double ka Meetha", something they make out of fried bread n dipping that in sugar syrup. It quite resembles the "shhwar bhaja" in Calcutta, but believe me it is way more delicious here. Next comes, the nawabi biriyani!! The fact that the original Hyderabadi biriyani is made with very little spice and is less smelly than what Shiraz gives us back in Calcutta, made me really like it. Kolkata House is a big hit here for most Bengalis. It reminds me of Benfish, with all those Bhetki fries, fish chops, fish kobirajis ... lining up their stall. And my first acquaintance with Kolkata House fish happened one saptami evening, after office when we(me and my Bengali colleagues) planned a pujo pandal visit to Miyapur. We fell in love,  and I call it "love at first bite" !!
Anyway...  signing off for now ! This was my first blog from Hyderabad... will keep writing...

A Last One from Home

...And a final one before I am off to start a techie's career. My Bsnl broadband bills for the last 2 months have exceeded 1000s of bucks. My dad kept quite thinking his beloved younger daughter had only few days of stay at home. I have been googling hyderabad maps day and night as nothing else could give me a better view of the city, my office, accommodations...bla bla. I know I was growing old every birthday but not wiser anymore. I have hated the chaos of Durga pujo evenings in Kolkata, since birth; and often went out with family and relatives for long trips, treks... mainly the north and north-western India. I can count the number of Pujos I spent eating the Ashtami bhog in my para. It was only after I got my offer giving the joining date 2 weeks before Pujo, that a sudden craving for staying in Kolkata during pujo sprang out from within. My mom threatened to marry me off if I was not going for higher study/ job after graduation. The next search on Google was Durga pujo in Hyderabad. Wow! Bengali communities and their Pujo venues in the 'city of Nawabs'!!




I had no experience of what it was like to leave behind our loved ones and set off. It was being the first time and the toughest ever. From electric kettles to new trolley bags, formal shoes to a stylish haircut from paser bari's Habib-trained boudi(next door aunt) lunch invitations to pre-gifted pujo dresses, cash and blessing... it has been getting grander than Pujo itself. All this meant I am not supposed to look back, which is something I cannot refrain from doing. I will keep writing from my new city now... Looking forward to come back permanently in no time. After all, home sweet home!! :)

Aisa Des Hai Mera...

Every Indian, will have faced atleast one of these situations.... Check out!!

#1. The telephone office: (Ssshhh...its a govt one) The organization seems to have cracked a record in putting customers to experience network problems, congestion, cross connections and signal failures; and the subscribers also seem to have broken the record for putting the company officials to discomfort, by pouring down infrequent complaints....
      Mango people(read Aam Janta):    'I will be dumping this connection in no time'.
      Me(to Mango people) : This warning will be ignored by them like those unceasing piled up complaints in their office, and sometime back when I had given a similar warning, I was shown the Customer Care office by one of the officers, from where I could collect the connection-surrendering form !!!!!!!

 Me(to the company) : I am sure the highly qualified Telecomm officers(who remain busy calculating their PF, DA, HRA... most of the time in office) will be able to decode why customers have to suffer so badly. It is true that such a large population relies on a dumb connection like yours. Yet there is no zeal to improve things from your side. It is unfortunate that our Govt. has placed so much of revenue and great infrastructure in wrong hands. We Indians have learnt to compromise with our needs and your esteemed company is the biggest teacher of it. It is evident that this single highlight is not going to change your  way of doing things at your own pace. However, I have still chosen to pour out the minds of millions across this country, to show the company, the mirror!!

#2. The Electricity board office: (Zor ka jhatka... zoron se lagaa) Though Bengal is receiving a more-or-less stable domestic supply during the monsoons, the excessive installation of air conditioners in thousands of houses during summer led to insufficient power supply and consequently, frequent midnight power cuts. Hooking has been the best age old practise among the weaker sections of the society to get some light. Several schemes like ADPRP were designed to reduce power loss during transmission, but moving at snail's pace they failed to achieve the desired goal in stipulated time. Locally, queues for anything in these offices is such a menace.

Mango people(among themselves): 'Is this the line for getting a new connection? I have been directed here by the other department'. She reaches the counter, shows the application, and is now told by the red-mouthed employee, 'Madam, not here. New connection  and everything ...2nd floor', slurping the paan inside. And it goes on and on and on...till she gets lucky.

Me(to Mango people): Neither will they take down a complaint or accept an application without harassing you. I was made to wait for 4 hours when I went to settle a 6 month old dispute, and was sent from one counter to another in relay... for 10 times or so.. every one clearly waving off their responsibilities.  The most shameful thing is that they make even senior citizens wait in these queues.

Me(to the board): Online bill payment systems being set up in most of the states, may be the best option to avoid queues but not every section of the society is net-savvy. Moreover, this is a nation where people are still 'scared'  or give a second thought before making an online transaction. Our forefathers, still feel manual way is the safest. So we expect you to show little sympathy to the senior citizens who visit your offices to pay for the mere services you provide.

#3. Identity(crisis):  Be it the bank, your mobile connection provider, the passport office, or the bill paying and ticket booking agencies, identity is everything for them. You are suppose to provide them with 5 copies of the same document as a proof. If you are changing from a post paid to a pre-paid connection, you have to re-appear with the same set of documents. They can't transfer it simply.

Mango people: "Isn't any one identity proof enough? Why do I need to provide all of them...aadhar, PAN, Voter id card...?'' ...."What???  How do you want me to prove that I have been a student of this college, without an ID card??? Grrrr.....!

#4. The Plumber(Ek boondh pani ki kimat...tum kya jano plumber babu):  They happen to be the V.V.VIPs of your area. Call them during an emergency, they either don't pick up the phone, or say they cant arrive before the evening, which boils down to the next day usually.

Mango people(to the deemed plumber): 'I request you to give a visit as fast as possible. There is no water since the last 12hrs. Its an emergency, bhaiya, please...'

Me(to mango people): Irrespective of whatever amount of politeness or brotherhood you show, they will visit only if they think it is important after they are nicely done with the afternoon nap. They will not show any hurry to finish their hand's work to serve you in emergency. You cant even ask them why they took so long to reach, when they come and treat the majesty with grandeur, and be obliged to him for having taken his precious time out to lend you his service. Duh!

#5. Public toilets(the most hygienic place on earth): Till date, cheapest thing to use (@rs.3 and rs. 5 for the short and the long nature's call). The lack of public toilets affects everybody in India, but somehow, its most devastating effect is on the Indian male. Indian males are a sensitive species. They hear the call of Nature more frequently, and also feel compelled to answer it more immediately. Now, one’s first instinct is to feel sorry for them. But one should never underestimate their mental strength. Over the years, they have boldly gone where no man has ever gone before.. They have quietly protested against bizarre concepts like shame, hygiene and public decency. Men, in short, have managed to make their problem a non-issue.

Mango men(the 'mard') :  ....................  peeee.......eee....ee...e...

Bong Spicery

Mood swings have not been uncommon for me, often stuck in conundrums. My sister told me it is supposed to be a post menopausal syndrome and women of our mother's age have it. For women of my age(early 20s), some of us who happen to be emotional eaters, the reason should be the craving for our acquaintance with the right food at the right time. The right aroma of the right spice at the right time is a royal feeling, that could enchant food lovers like me,  transforming the mood entirely.

Frankly, I don't know where to begin from. You must have heard of the terms ' well travelled' or ' well read'. I am ' well-fed' !! And the tale of my love affair with food begins from mum's kitchen. A bong ma's kitchen

shelves are lined up with jars of 'panch-foron', ' shukno lonka', 'tej pata', 'holud' , 'kalo jeera', cumin seeds, 'hing' etc. No 'Bhajohari Ranna'(one of Bengal's oldest n most popular restaurants) could stand in competition with mom's 'macher-jhol' (fish curry with very little spice) specially done with the intoxicating essence of 'panch foron' in the pungent smelling mustard oil, whose predominance makes the dish so elating. I have been trying to decode the real recipe behind this, having failed several times even using the same ingredients used by her(she is a swift cook and uses some secret anecdotes, I believe!!). Since, I am still waiting to begin my life as a professional, I have loads of time and don't mind failing few more attempts in my free time, as long as the rattlings of 'panch foron' and 'sukno lonka' in the hot mustard oil continue to please my eardrums and the strong essence, seduce my olfactory system.

One of the radio channels was playing Manna Dey. 'Na na Jeo Naa' . It was the evening of Shankranti. The big bowl of off whitish earthy 'pithe-payesh' boiled lazily, in rhythm with the 70s song. Mum lowered the flame and left it to boil in its own speed, while she sang to the radio in a soothing soft voice of the black n

white era. It was perfect like her recipes. 'Pithe's  stuffed with lot of grated coconut in jaggery dipped in the 'payesh' ...sheer heaven for me!

There was a time when I hated the taste or smell of  chilli in any dish. It was only after I came in college and several riots with our cook(who hardly knew how to cook) I learnt the importance of hotness. Ok, I don't mind relating 'hotness' and 'college' for sometime . But seriously, no girl could show the hotness in 1st year of engineering. It was ragging session for the first 6 months or so, when every women had to come decent in Salwar-kameez and necessarily with 'dupattas', with all this leaving me a little frustrated after college. And back home, not wanting to eat the tasteless food cooked by 'mashi' made my mum introduce me to a simple combo of rice,few drops of mustard oil, a green chilli and a pinch of salt, all mashed together. It was an illuminating moment for me and I could finish my full plate with that. I loved the flavour of green chilli and now I can't do without 1 every meal. In hands of a cook like mum, even hotness can become pretty palatable, and help me get over my negative emotions, with the chilli perhaps chilling down my anger.


Having come in touch with our Malayam tenant, in the last few years, who also happened to be a teacher in my school, there has been an exchange of culture and food. Coincidentally, my mother has been a fan of South Indian dishes. I still pack dosa's back home for mum whenever I visit a South Indian restaurant. The 2 men in their family happen to be traditional experts in cooking their stuff. Bengali men could hardly imagine themselves in kitchen, every morning, making 20-25 chapattis, for the entire family before leaving for work! Yes, they are em-ee-en=men! An unusual "South Indian Chicken Curry" as they call it, the sweet and sour aroma with the slightness of curry leaves, coming from their kitchen aroused my voracious inner devil called ''Greed'' so much that I went down to ask them what they were cooking and it smelt so nice. In sometime, they came up to give us a bowl of the chicken curry! Later on, I used this trick(rather shamelessness) a couple of times to get few more bowls. Though I have stopped acting shameless recently, the very smell of the curry on weekends boils down my stress quickly. Call it magic, maya, or just Damn Good Curry; it has certainly put a spell on me!!

The Eccentricity of Chaitra Sale

Phew... I am home, with all my body organs in their own place. The annual stock clearance sale, better pronounced as "Chaitro Sale" hit the market hard enough to have had record footfalls. I should say it is the people who disport unprecedented eccentricity woo-ed by the word "SALE". Ok, I admit it. I too get wooed when I see shops offering huge discounts. I am a woman. But less eccentric than those who have that mad enthusiasm for shopping-till-your-hamstrings-sprain. Shopkeepers keep screaming in your ears, "eksho taka... ja neben eksho taka", you sweat like hell because roads are packed like sardines, you dont know where to place your foot next(on the road or on someone's feet), you have to push others to make way or else get pushed away, and then if you have still managed to sustain your shopping spree, you enter a shop where the shopkeeper is no more on the floor. He stands on his pulpit(usually a small bench), calling out prices, inviting you to his shopping arena. It is hard to say if the discounts are genuine, because the quality genuinely suffers. However, it is a "steal" you know, and to purchase the best stuff from a huge mountain of faulty  junks is a victory for every "mashima" and "kakima" who exude their bargaining skills, under the scorching mid day sun or sultry summer evenings.

I was amazed to see a very renowned cloth brand outlet selling off some expensive dresses at less than half price. I am a regular buyer at their place. And I had been there a couple of days before, when they were already offering a lot of discount, but no one came in thinking it was a big brand, and discounts would be on selected items, and yes, there was no one shouting out their offers, so no one knew much about it. After two days when I passed by the same shop, I was not able to recognize it. The whole sphere underwent a transition. The shopkeepers brought out all their discounted items, hung them outside the shop and there were there to four men who were wailing out, "Buy 1 at 50% discount, and get another free...free...free!!" I asked the man if it was the same shop which is selling all this. He uttered, "ha didi, egulo sob sale ache..nie jaan".


This is the only time when Bengalis can get the best things at the least price, for everyone at home. The enticing charm of the Sale hauls every "dada", "boudi","pishima", "kaku","kakima" and even the kids from their homes. There was this woman in a red tant, with a 4-5 yr old child in hand and her husband who came to accompany her straight from office; his gloomy appearance, his attire and the bag behind him made it evident. "Duto sari 300taka!!!..sale sale sale!!" . It was magnetic. The woman also joined the crowd of buyers of "duto sari 300taka". They were selling cotton saris, and these days maids cannot be satisfied with synthetic ones. She too went with the same motive, I believe. Her negotiation skills were put to test now. The husband seemed to be okay with 300, but she would not give more than 240. It was ultimately settled at 250!

I was kept waiting outside a trial room for more than half an hour, because there was just one trial room in that floor and that one was occupied by a fat lady who carried more than 10dresses inside, and I believe she was not fitting into any of it. She became insane when she saw "Kurtis for 150/- only"!! So she had to fit into at least one of them. When I got a chance to enter, a middle aged woman asked if I would share the trial room with her!!!!!! No one ever asked me for such a thing. Then she insisted that it was the latest trend to share the trial room, if there is a long queue! I was even more shocked, I said a big NO and slammed the door on her face.

Despite all the commotion and pandemonium, Bengalis love to indulge in such improvised shopping. And finally the most awaited Nabo Barsho arrives when we flaunt our purchase!

Feminism

I believe I am in a very feminine mood today. People have a notion that it is an oxymoron to be a Feminist Girly Girl. The same girl could wear high heels with a flowy evening dress who teams flats  with her trousers and shirts in boring shades of black and grey, to work every single morning. Smoky eyes looks perfect on the same woman who wears the eye liner clean. Having a floral print on the laptop cover does not merely mean, she is unaware of the machine configurations. We add a liner if our lips our not of the perfect shape. We put a foundation to make our skin look flawless. That doesn't make us plastic or fake. Every woman is pretty, and she has the right to look beautiful. Looking good enhances our confidence. We love Bob Dylan. We love Hotel California too. Trying to be a feminist by looking unclean is not right way to be so. And  let me put a full stop to the idea that being girly construes that with weakness or lack of intelligence. It is okay to be a feminist-girly girl. It is just that a woman tries to perfect herself, while men stick to whatever they have. Now I am not being a female chauvinist by pointing that out. Chauvinism is a different issue altogether, and I don't want to bring it in the current topic of my blog.

 In a culture such as ours that is obsessed with image and categorizing people, it’s often assumed that in order to be a “true feminist,” you must reject things like shaving, wearing make-up or noisy heels, being heterosexual, enjoying the company of males, or being a stay-at-home mom. For me, feminism isn’t about the physical, it’s about the spiritual. Do I have your attention now!!? Feminism and femininity can always go together. We need not reject one to have the other. The society is largely influenced by the mainstream media that upholds the triteness of feminism and women being portrayed as bitchy, catty, stupid, submissive. Feminism, as they show it, is another prop of desire, in advertisement. Yes, it is about objectifying women in the media. Do we need more proof?? Google Playboy !

To make my point clear, the Feminist philosophy argues that no women should be oppressed under any circumstances irrespective of her chromosomes, color, race, ethnicity.  I can rise up early, ready my kids for school, dress up perfectly for my office, do my work with all the precision needed, and come home and cook for my family, and doing all that while still looking nice, doesn't prove that I am not a feminist. I still know to stand up for my rights, because first I am a human being and then a woman. So I guess the eternal fight to establish feminism as freedom.. justice.. and equality continues in a gender biased society.