Kolkatta

There was something oppressive about Dhaka, negotiating the tempestuous seas of rickshaws and socialising with the millions of inhabitants was a precious experience, even if hard-work. But it was time to leave. I stopped for a night in the town of Jessore, and revelled in the chance to delve into Bangladeshi smalltown life again. And then I made a break for the border and once again the embrace of mother India. At the border people were back to their old tricks of trying to rip me off and I momentarily regretted returning to the mighty neighbour, where people aren’t quite as friendly and nuisances all the more prevalent. But my flirtation with xenophobia was soon brushed aside as I sat on the local train to Kolkatta – that’s Calcutta to us oldies. It was a train fit for cattle – who are of course worshipped in this land – but it was very cheap (20 eurocents) to go 74 km and the people were wonderfully chatty, even if they kept warning me to keep an eye on my bag.

I must admit to being a little afraid of Kolkatta, a city that is famous for its slums and its poverty. Thank you very much Mother Theresa. The famed social worker misguided by her venomous catholic beliefs. Kolkatta is not chaotic, not specially dirty and not at all fearsome. Admittedly I’ve been hanging aroundvast third world cities a bit too much of late to be entirely objective but I find Kolkatta to be tamed and cultured. Idly strolling through the streets I have a constant feeling to be simultaneously in London and Havana – not that I have actually visited those two particular cities. Yellow taxis zoom by direct from the fifties and the decaying imperial architecture discreetly lines the wide avenues. People are playing cricket on the huge swathe of park that eats into the city’s heart. The Victoria memorial rises precociously into the sky – a reminder of colonialism but somehow a fitting tribute to modern India’s own imperial ambitions. The tempo is relaxed and an aura of calm envelops the streetscape. I might have fallen in love…even if it’s not ‘authentic India…