So, where were we?
I can't leave Puri without telling you about the Sun Temple at Konark - an hour's scoot from Puri. As disused temples go (and you may have gathered that I'm not automatically enraptured by the mere concept), this one is very special. Its from the 13th century, is a shadow of its former self, and is not on a grand scale but... the design (as the chariot of the sun god Surya), the detail and the symmetry make it rather nice. Check it:
After more than a week in Puri, I was ready to face the city formerly known as Calcutta. I'd been intrigued by Kolkata since I first thought about coming to India. It was the capital of the British Raj for over 150 years, and was one of the most adversely affected places after partition, and during the war with Pakistan. Both times supermassive immigration was the main problem, leading to bursting at the seams poverty, terrible pollution, and all the rest we hear about.
Having arrived on the night train (as per usual), my first task was to book my next train. I normally do this online, thereby avoiding what most independent travellers find is one of the more frustrating Indian experiences. But online quotas for my journey were full, so I gritted my teeth and made my way up the 3 stories on a staircase which doubles as the overflow for the blocked toilets. Mmm. Several queues (and the Indian interpretation of a queue is somewhat different to mine: you stand as close as possible to the person in front and, if you feel like it, you walk to the front and involve yourself with the person who's being served, shove your form to the clerk, start shouting, your mates join in, form a scrum, and everybody's happy), and several hours later, I collapsed out of the chaos, proudly clutching my ticket, feeling fresh as a daisy and ready to face standard taxi shenanigans and finally enter Kolakata...
...Albeit at about 2 mph, through traffic the like of which I've only ever seen in Delhi: 3 lanes become 1, 1 lane becomes 2, the road surface disappears, 2 motorways merge, beggars on all sides thrust hands through the windows, a rickshaw puller (who's one step away from giving a piggy back to the 3 people he's pulling) makes a kamikaze (barefooted) dash in front of an enormous truck which brakes, flashes its (blue and green) headlights, honks its horn which plays something like "eye of the tiger" at triple speed, the 20 or more people on the top and sides hang on for dear life, the pollution is so intense that cleaner air could be smoked through a cigar, across Howrah bridge (the busiest bridge in the world by a long way) where a sea of pedestrians with all manner of objects on their heads (luggage, fruit, filing cabinets etc) flow around the taxi, my driver sings with the latest bollywood songs (half of stereo, one speaker that blew years ago but is still cranked to 11), whilst chatting to his colleagues through the medium of the horn. you get the picture.
I spent most of my time in Kolkata walking round, gazing at buildings, taking in the atmosphere, getting lost, etc. Its not a place to relax. Here's the Victoria memorial:
Its now a museum/gallery displaying Raj portraits/memorabilia/the story of Independence etc. I had, out of curiosity rather than pride, hoped to find some information/pictures of my ancestors who were involved here (my great grandfather was accountant general of Bengal, Burma and the Punjab, and his uncle was Viceroy). But alas, as per usual the museum only focuses on the start and end of the Raj, and ignores the rest. Oh well... At least there's a healthy dose of propaganda about the fantastic state Kolkata is now - everyone smiling, just happy to be here.
Back at my hotel, I pondered this while looking out of my window at the rickshaw-pullers, the 6 year old children carrying heavy loads, and the luckless naked crippled beggars.
(I hope you can appreciate my irony even through the medium of photography...)
The disparity betwixt the British areas (huge buildings, many of which are now crumbling so much that trees grow from their bricks, on wide leafy streets) and the shanty towns where their Indian subjects lived, is sobering even today. Its no wonder that great resentment grew against the Raj and that Calcuttans were central to the struggle for independence.
Anyway, I couldn't have stayed in Kolkata longer than the 2 days I spent there. The smell, the noise, the lack of space etc are exhausting. But I really like the place! I shall fill you in on my interim antics very soon.....
