The State of Red

Kolkata is where my husband spent his youth and hence his love for the city is paramount. Anything Bengali or having to do with Kolkata gets his antlers up and thus when he was informed that a friend’s daughter was getting married in Kolkata, he did not waste a moment and blocked his tickets for the trip. I was keen on going too, for it was over five years since I had met the said friends and of course the pull to buy good Bengal cotton saris was immense. However it set me thinking about my first trip to Kolkata which turned out to be a disaster in more ways than one and if I may say so, the only saving grace was K.C Das (a taboo for me) and RMCA Basak, the Sari place. I wondered if it was time for me to change my opinion.
After my marriage, I had heard so much about Kolkata from Kumar, that I was keen on seeing the place. So many of the street and area names were familiar to me from constant hearing that it was indeed with a lot of enthusiasm and gaiety that I started on my journey to Kolkata in 2001. As luck would have it, we had planned our onward journey by train and before we could even cross the Tamilnadu border, Sridevi who was only four years old then became sick. There was no way we could break the journey and thus proceeded. Howrah railway station was a nightmare and the taxi that we took to our hotel had apart from the windows on the sides a big hole on the chassis which allowed us to keep track of the metal road below. The hotel we checked into had seen its good days a couple of decades ago (the time when Kumar was there) but was in a state of complete deterioration and staying even one night with a sick kid was unthinkable. With help from some contacts we moved to a decent guest house the next day and spent the rest of our holiday there. In the meantime, Sridevi got well and we did the usual rounds of sight seeing, shopping, restaurants and literal walking down memory lanes. However I could not help but notice with dismay the state of the city and I couldn’t think how the state that had given us almost all our Nobel Laureates and a state so well known for it thinkers, artists and creative people could ever be like this. I wondered as to how the present generation of intelligentsia could sit back at the total disarray that Kolkata presented. I cannot tell you as to how grateful I was that my domicile was in Tamil Nadu. It was then that I truly began to appreciate the role of our civic bodies and government in improving and maintaining our environment. (Coming to think of it, this was in 2001 when the Corporation was not as active and omnipresent as it is today.) That trip ended on a miraculous note what with the ceiling fan missing Sridevi by a whisker. Yes, the fan at the Guest House just decided to give way and fell aplomb on the bed. At that point I had decided that Kolkata was not for me and another trip was unthinkable.
As they say, time is the best healer and it must be that the nine years had helped in diminishing my feelings and thus when the next opportunity came I packed my bags and set off. We are well into the second decade of the Century, a Century that has seen India burgeoning in all areas. A Century, in which India and Indians stand shoulder to shoulder with the best in the world. A Century, which has seen some of our countrymen doing immensely well in their specific fields and have in the process earned a niche among the richest in the world. In short the last ten years have been great for the country as it has made tremendous strides in all walks of life. This change has been noticeable all over the country right from the biggest of metropolises to the two and three tier cities and even to some extent to the small towns and villages. There seems to have been the much needed seeping of the wealth to the roots and thus the rise in the standard of living is obvious everywhere.
However the third populous city in India seems to be in a shell of its own. To an outsider, it looked as if the city and the state were in a deep slumber totally oblivious of all the happenings around. NOTHING had changed in the nine years. The roads and the pavements were bad and the road transport consisted of fleets of buses belonging to the early 20th century. As for the buildings, with the exception of the star hotels, malls and corporate offices were so badly in need of maintenance and a coat of paint. How I wished that the next time it rained there, it would be Paint and not water that fell from the skies. Some flyovers are in place however that and the new development of Salt Lake is nothing to write home about. The bunker shops on the sides of the road were a picture of poverty. I wondered as to how anyone could eke a living from such establishments. The parks on the road side were totally neglected and with the exception of few urchins playing ball and our four legged friends grazing, were ignored by majority of the population. With regard to the medical care, I did not have to do any probing for while in Chennai itself, I have seen a sizeable number of Bengalis taking treatment from the leading hospitals here. Thus the three days I spent there made me think and feel a sense of helplessness. I wished that I had the strength and the means to bring about an awakening. I returned with a heavy heart, which I must say was lightened with a compulsory visit to RMCA Basak.
I cannot pin point the blame for this apathy on anyone for who am I to do so. However I hope that the majority of the readers will agree when I attribute these reflections as being the State of Red.
PS. This indirectly becomes an ODE to my city of Chennai nee Madras as she celebrates her 371st Birthday.