Kolkata.. My city, my love :)

I am no writer, not even an amateur. In fact simply the thought of it would give me chills and make my tummy rumble. Writing has never been my cup of tea; rather I have never actually considered it. I don’t know why, but I guess I was always afraid of it, may be scared to reveal the deficiency of my vocabulary. But lately I have been thinking a lot, more than I usually do. And I somehow didn't feel it right to waste my thoughts. So right now I am sitting down here at this table, all alone in this house, with a glass of cold coffee and my laptop trying to make something out of my thoughts.

KOLKATA, it would be an understatement if I say that I love this city. A city of amiable contrasts, a city of cultural affluence, and a combination of ancient and modern beauty, Kolkata has an “alluring old- world charm and tranquil pace of life” which can hardly be experienced in any other city.

While I was juggling in between what this city has given me and what she hasn’t, the list of “what I got” is so long that it doesn’t really matter if there is anything on the other.

My love for Kolkata started long back, when I was small, so small that I didn’t know what love or attachments were. I only felt a strong bond with the place I was living in, I could only feel the pain when I bid goodbye to the Howrah Bridge during some trips outside and then had the desire to be back soon. Then Kolkata meant rushing to Victoria Memorial or Birla Planetarium with Papa early on an Sunday morning, going for a boat ride in the Ganges, tram ride, pandal hoping in Durga Puja, Nizam’s biryani, Sabir’s rezala, my home, the wooden staircase at the back of it, running from roof to roof in North Kolkata, playing cricket in the galis, the smell of haldi from Maa’s saree, Didun’s songs, Dadu reciting mantras and me sitting at his side praying hard enough so that God listens and I don’t have to go to school again. Kolkata meant everything. 

But in my 26 years, things have changed a lot. I have lost my parents in these years. Fighting life alone is not easy, but I have always felt an immense comfort whenever I come back to Kolkata. The setting sun over the Ganges, the huge pillars of the Princep Ghat, the sun playing peek-a- boo through the leaves, the narrow lanes, black and white corridors, my lonely solitary walks in unknown streets, the long hours in coffee house, bustling energy of New Market, the tram ride to Gariahat to shop at one of the cheapest and most happening street markets of the world probably, Bengali food, and not to forget bonds which helped me to connect with myself, my man and my friends who are there in every thick and thin of my life, all these have made Kolkata even more special to me. It would be a lie if I say I never miss my Maa and Papa when I’m here in Kolkata, but the pain is much less, cause I feel them in every nook here there, whenever I get drenched in the rain, whenever I walk in the streets, whenever I push open the huge gate and enter my home, whenever I climb that wooden staircase and whenever I lay on my bed and look outside my window just to stare at my Kolkata. It is really hard to find description that would do justice to Kolkata, all I know is this city has made me… the city with soul, my Kolkata…

Someone has rightly said, “If you give time to Kolkata to love you back, she will engulf you in her arms.”