Poverty remains a central fact of life in Calcutta. It
is visible everywhere, and its omnipresence in a city once
called the ‘City of Palaces’ is a striking paradox.
Vagrants, beggars and pavement-dwellers are a common sight,
presenting quite a challenge to many of Calcutta’s visitors
and tourists. But it is not just a picture of unmitigated
gloom. Signs of change and progress are visible. The city
now boasts an underground transport system; the only one of
its kind in the country. Streets have been cleaned and broadened,
and the sewerage is in the process of being completely overhauled.
Progress and change also exact their price. The demands of
modern life have taken from the city some of its historical
heritage and charm. The charismatic old and spacious bungalows
of the Edwardian period have nearly all fallen under the hammers
of builders with an eye for quick and easy profit, but scant
concern for heritage or aesthetics. Quiet streets lined with
glamour trees have been transformed into noisy thoroughfares
lined with high rise. Slow moving trams are giving way to
speeding minibuses driven with recklessness. Calcutta is now
a city in transition from an uneasy but grandiose imperial
past to a more streamlined, modern present.
Yet some things remain immutable. The image-makers of Kumartuli
still begin making their idols in September; and Durga Puja,
the city’s premier festival, in early autumn, is still
celebrated with colour, fanfare, verve and deafening noise.
Kalighat, which houses the city’s deity, continues to
draw thousands on Tuesdays and Saturdays; the two days considered
to belong to Kali, the consort of Siva,. Amateur theatre groups
continue to flourish and experiment. The Book Fair, a recent
addition to Calcutta’s festive calendar, is a testimony
to its citizens high regard for learning and intellect. The
fair draws enormous crowds and the atmosphere has the feel
of a carnival. A Test Match at Eden Gardens invariably draws
a capacity crowd of 100000 spectators. These are all signs
of the city’s perennial vitality.
Calcutta evokes the strongest and the strangest responses
from its citizens and visitors. Those who love Calcutta love
it warts and all. There is an unbreakable and ineffable bond
in this city of extremes, the ‘City of Statues’,
the city of artistic merit and of human hardship. Ask any
loyal Calcuttan to explain his or her attachment to their
city and the inevitable response will be something like: ‘There
is something about the place’. The vagueness of the
response is perhaps permissible because, after all, how does
one define and pinpoint the joy and attraction we have to
life itself? |
