As I mentioned in my little adventure on the choo choo train I seem desperate to experience India and not just see it through the eyes of the Lonely Planet. I have found myself at the other end of the spectrum from the extreme shanti beauty of Kasar Devi to the dirty bustling metropolis of Calcutta. I’m going to use the old spelling as I’m not only a secret dirty imperialist but I believe what India may have lost on one hand with it’s wealth being stolen it gained on the other with the creation of infrastructure; something lacking horrendously in other countries such as Nepal for example. Added to that from what I’ve seen so far architecturally the influence of the Brits has been felt here, and is still felt, more than in any of the few other places I have seen so far. Calcutta on first impressions actually reminds me a lot of Madrid, but more a post-apocalyptic version, or even the future if ‘El Crisis’ continues.
It’s been a wierd day, this being one of the reasons I feel writing a ‘first impressions’, or more of a first day, to be of such importance. I will also give my opinion of the place when I leave in a little under two weeks as I myself am curious how my perception changes over that time.
When I arrived I wasn’t too tired from the journey as I had more or less slept the two nights but I was exhausted and as a result found myself feeling a little like a lost sheep. It was similar to my arrival in Kathmandu where it was all so much to take in and I was aware I would therefore be rich pickings but was powerless to prevent it. I allowed myself to be lead to a guest house by two local lads and found I had somehow agreed to pay 200 rupees to stay in what I will also allow myself to use the ‘Black Hole of Calcutta’ cliché to describe. I am staying in a sweatbox of a cell with a small window in the top corner, a fan which just pushes the heat around and a small single bed with a straw mattress which acts like some type of radiator. All this is lit with one painfully bright strip light, I think they’re called, which simply highlights the peeling paint and all round barren nature of my room. It is the type of room people describe when trying to shock people with the horrors or realities of travel in India. Calcutta is extremely hot and it just adds to it; I sweat by merely existing in this room.
It was not a good start and my attempts at exploring the place where just as unsuccessful. I ate breakfast in a little restaurant dating badly from the eighties in style, and with none of the culinary delights I had anticipated and hoped for from Bengali food. I knew this when I saw it from outside, thought it again when I walked in, when I sat down, when I was handed my menu and when I ordered. I knew all this yet did nothing about it. I then wandered the streets looking for somewhere to sit down and smoke a cigarette, and walked for ages in the heat before finally settling on a delightful spot beside the main road running through the city. After this I aimless walked through a market place in the guise of exploring, before being befriended and somehow found myself in a shop, almost, buying some silk scarfs. Like the old guy who hangs himself in Shawshank Redemption the outside world was just too much for me, but unlike him I didn’t have to kill someone to return to my cell so promptly headed off in that direction. I felt fresh off the plane and wet behind the ears as a result; I had to get off the streets before it lead me somewhere I really regretted.
Outside my guest house I saw a quite disturbing sight; two street dogs locked in end to end, love visibly being pumped from one to the other while another male quite ferociously tried to get in on the act. If separation occurs with dogs while in the middle of sex, the female’s womb can be ripped out. It was a disturbing site, my feelings being betrayed by my face much to the amusement of the Indians around me. I can now add dogs to the list of animals I have seen having sex, although I assure you it lacked the amusement of chickens raping each other and the beauty of dragonfly making love on my arm. ‘Doggy style’ will never evoke the same emotions within me it once did.
Back in my room I tried to sleep but after an hour or two of sweating and getting more and more angry I eventually cracked, went outside and vented my frustrations to the manager; who was now seeing another side to the timid boy who had walked into the place. The angry Scotsman had emerged and all was not well. What the fuck was I doing here in this place?! I don’t even like cities. Fuck experiencing, I want Kasar Devi. I should never have left. The only solution to all this I decided was that I go walk the streets again. This time the same hawkers, beggars and curious Indians got a different response to my enquiries, some even quite Germanically rude in their wording. I even went into a bar which I thought would have air conditioning, and it did, but as the waiter suggested I sit in every seat except the one I suggested I wanted to sit in he got told where he could stick his seating and I vacated the premises. I drank some chai on the roadside, ate some street food and smoked a little. This did little to appease me and I found myself on the move again, stumbling into a rather tasty looking but expensive delicatessen and treating myself. I spent a slow fifteen minutes eating my disgustingly sickly and over-priced ‘Choco Cup’, but basked in the cool air conditioned room. After I left, with the help of chocolate and a little cooling off, I saw the funny side of the whole thing and laughed at my ridiculousness. I chatted to two young German lads fresh from Thailand, fake dreds and all, and went to look at the dorm they were staying in. Tomorrow I will be in a room full of camp beds and Koreans, for 90 rupees a night with big windows and lots of air I can actually breath.
I returned to my room and discovered the pills I had taken to stop myself shitting my pants had worn off so spent the next few hours severely dehydrated and feeling sorry for myself, nearly passing out a few times in the process. I’ve still not taken the anti-biotics I was given in Rishikesh but very nearly cracked. My heart told me to wait another day, so that is what I shall do, let us hope it is right.
Still tomorrow is not only another day but a New Moon and therefore a new cycle. I have a good feeling about it, it can only be better than the current one which I will be honest has been a real test, but which I have so far survived. In regards Calcutta, I’m positive despite my first day; and like Kathmandu, I have a feeling with a bit of time and an open mind I’ll be able to see the beauty behind the chaos. All I need is to find a nice bar where I can sit on the ground surrounded by cushions and hippies, discuss yoga, drink ginger tea and listen to Bob Marley....actually no; I’ve the rest of India for that type of nonsense, I’m going to embrace the chaos
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