Indian Folk Art: Kalighat Paat

            Published in Deccan Herald, August 2011

Indian folk art: Of Bankura & Bishnupur

Published in Deccan Herald, June 2011

Oh! Calcutta: City with many moods

She never fails to overwhelm in ways uniquely her own. The wrinkles of age are visible but she’s a portrait of grace. Some adore her, some abuse her. But she embraces them all, unconditionally. She nurtures and gently compels to look beyond the mundane and the material, and live life in full measure. She shows a way to enjoy moments and not long for minutes. She’s real yet she’s an enigma. She’s Calcutta.
If you want too see an Indian city with a soul, buy travel tickets to Calcutta, now Kolkata. A bustling, bursting-at-its-seams metropolis, it’s got the answer you’ll ever require to charge your five senses. Here’s the A-Z of a city with many moods.

Ambassador: Production of the good ol’ Amby, India’s first car, has stopped but it still packs city streets. Under its matronly, domed hood are delightfully classic features like the side-vent windows for breeze in your hair. The Amby is largely spotted as the quintessential yellow taxi.   

Belur: The headquarters of the Ramakrishna Misssion, it’s a serene complex on the banks of River Hoogly. The main temple, devoted to sage Ramakrishna, is built in traditional Bengali char-chala (four-arched) style. A string of smaller temples includes one dedicated to Swami Vivekananda.

Chowringhee: Down the centuries the street has captured the imagination of all those who have traversed it. The city’s most famous business address, it has a striking Colonial skyline and defines the ‘Calcutta era’ in all its splendour.  

Dover Lane Music Conference: The city’s fervour for classical compositions touches the high note every winter when music sessions are held. The four-day Dover Lane event at Nazrul Manch has reached legendary proportions and draws connoisseurs from afar. Other celebrated programmes are Gunidas sangeet sammelan, Sabrang sangeet sammelan and ITC guru-shishya sammelan.

Eden Garden: The haloed ground of Indian cricket, the Eden Garden stadium, has been the venue for many a dramatic match. Opposite it is Maidan, the city’s green lung and amongst the largest metropolis parks in the world. On Sundays it turns into a battle ground for cheer and jeer when hundreds of cricket matches are played by enthusiastic boys and men. On its fringes are some of the oldest sporting clubs of the country like Mohan Bagan and East Bengal.

Flower market: Located on Mallick Ghat, at the head of Howrah Bridge, it’s the biggest wholesale flower bazaar in eastern India and its sheer profusion of colour is a feast for the eyes. Blooms of myriad varieties vie for attention but there’s no taking away from the dominance of the saffron-hued marigold that lights up all spaces. Weekly business worth crores happens in this shanty market.   

Graphitti: The Bengali breathes art. The city walls are also his canvas where the flair with paint and brush manifests itself majorly as creative slogans of political rhetoric. The gods are appeased too and so are iconic heroes like Che and Maradona in similar fashion.      

Hoogly: For a tryst with the great Ganga—River Hoogly here—and to experience life playing out on its ghats (banks), hop on to a ferry that gently bobs in the shadows of the stunning Howrah Bridge and Vidyasagar Bridge.

ICE Zone: Sector 5 in Salt Lake is the info-tech and communication district. And it chills out nearby at Sector 1 City Centre, the glitziest contemporary public space in town designed by renowned Charles Correa. It represents a vibrant confluence of shopping malls, cineplexes, restaurants and food courts amidst luxuriant contours. To get an arresting bird’s eye view of a neon cityscape ascend to Afraa, its fine dining space, on the seventh floor.

Jorasankho: 6/4 Dwarkanath Tagore Lane, Kolkata – 7. That’s the address where lived Bengal’s reverend father, Nobel-laureate Rabindranath Tagore. His house was the hub of Bengali literati and many a revolutionary idea was sparked here. Currently it’s a centre for performing arts. Its well-preserved Tagore museum has serene, overpowering vibes. Around the corner is Marble Palace, an aristocratic residence, now slightly disheveled, that displays a personal collection of priceless European masterpieces and bric-a-brac.    

  

Kathi rolls: A Kolkata invention, it’s undoubtedly the simplest, yet most delectable street fare fit for epicurean taste-buds. A version of the wrap, it’s about succulent pieces of chicken (barbequed on wooden skewers or kathi, thus the name) rolled in an egg fried roti (flour tortilla) layered with chopped onion, green chillies, spices and a dash of lemon all in a jiffy.

Lal-paar & dhuti-punjabi: Fashion may swing between Rathore and Armani but there’s nothing as classy as the lal paar (red border) saree worn the traditional way by women and the dhuti-punjabi (lower-kurta) sported by men. The attire is a constant at any social event, especially during the festive months.

Mishti: The famed Bengali sweet-tooth has given rise to mishti (sweetmeat) shop in almost every lane and each seems to excel in not just its rosogulla and sandesh but a whole gamut.  In winters, sugar in the mishti is replaced with notun gur or the divinely-delicious date-palm jaggery. Joynagarer Moa (pix) is another winter special. Balaram Mullick in Bhowanipore is one of the many established name in traditional treats.  

Nahoum's: The 1912 vintage shop in New Market is one of the handful Jewish-owned confectioneries found in India. A legend in itself, its timeless glass-wood cabinets are packed with favourites like walnut brownies, baklava, feta cheese sambusak (pix), mutton rolls, water biscuits and its famous rich fruit cake, for which there are unbelievable km-long queues on Christmas eve.  

Oh! Calcutta: A chic restaurant for gourmet Bengali at Forum, the city’s popular multiplex, on Elgin Road. It’s value for money and flavour and the daab-chingri (shrimps in tender coconut shell) is a must-eat. A short distance away is Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose’s home. (For traditional fare in unfussy environs book a table at Bhojohori Manna, www.bhojohorimanna.org, where the menu changes everyday).

Park Street: Once Asia’s most happening nightspot, it’s a petered down version of its former self but is still alluring, especially under a neon glaze. It has some fine restaurants, cafes and bookstores and is the place for a leisurely browse and munch. A landmark here is Flury’s, a one-time Swiss confectionary, that’s a must-visit for its sparkling ambience and the nostalgia it holds, besides of course its scrumptious cakes and savouries.

 

Queen’s Mansion: It was the residential address on Park Street. The mansion still stands in regal grace and a fresh coat of paint has added new life to the Victorian edifice. A few lanes away, New Market (pix) too has had a bit of a facelift.

Rickshaw: These are wheels of heritage and beget admiration, even if you need heart to see man lug man. The hand-pulled version found only on these streets has attracted its share of human rights activists who have been pushing to see it go off the road. It still hasn’t, and the rickshawalas are carting passengers, and quite happily so.

Street food: Kolkata is so much about food that it overpowers the senses. But nothing matches the gastronomic range served on its streets. It makes a mess of the surroundings but there’s such passion on display in the process of making fresh food in bare minimum ways that it’s gone way beyond reasons of sustenance and entered the realm of art. The aromas are appetising and its best to allow your nose to dictate as it trails the smells of luchi-aloo, macher jhol-bhaat, chop-cutlet, roomlai-koshamangsho et al. In the district of snacks there’s the numero uno jhaalmuri—raw mustard oil-flavoured spicy quick-fix of puffed rice—channajor garam, chilla, singhara, chumur…it goes on. The maati-bahander chai or tea served in earthen pots is another unparallel.   

Tram: For a ticket to ride on a mode of history jump on to the tram, running only in Kolkata, delightfully crisscrossing lanes and showcasing a cultural slice. The most architecturally-rich routes are those touching Esplanade and BBD Bagh stations which go past the Tipu Sultan Mosque, Chowringhee, Writers Building, Shaheed Minar, GPO, Raj Bhawan and a host of Victorian buildings. A new glass-roofed tram car is the latest scorcher.   

U/A: Nandan on AJC Bose Road has been the celebrated place for movie buffs and you need to catch a film here to see what draws the population. During film festivals it’s the most effervescent venue to be at and join animated discussions at addas (group chats). The complex has a museum dedicated to Satyajit Ray.

Victoria Memorial: It’s vintage Calcutta’s signature structure. Striking in its grandeur, it remains the favourite spot for local citizen and tourist alike and long queues can be witnessed almost everyday. Inside its portals is a museum and atop its dome is the figure of an angel that’s also a wind-vane.

Wonton soup: This is a hot seller at the Chinese breakfast served on the street at Tiretta Bazaar. The venue gets the marks for sheer ambience and is a sight to savour from 6 am - 9 am when the residents of this area, erstwhile China Town, come out of their homes to cook and serve piping hot fare. If you are late you don’t even spot the crumbs.  

X-mass: Not just Durga Puja, no one celebrates Christmas the way it’s done here. It’s a pan-community affair and the city wears festive lights. St Paul’s Cathedral and Park Street is where the crowds converge and Santa Claus pops out of every restaurant door. 

Yesteryears: Kolkata is one of those cities where ‘yesteryear’ holds true in the present. It’s a city that values commitment to tradition and it’s here that you are treated to a stimulating, seamless blend of conventional and contemporary.

Zoological garden: Alipore Zoo, the oldest in the country, has the largest party of the animal kingdom and they are known to growl, roar or make a monkey of the teeming numbers who visit them. Sometime they do oblige with a priceless pose for the lens.     

Published JetWings Int'l, 2010

Mandarmani

The moment he saw me, Wasimuddin came running from the sea. He had a nylon bag in hand sparsely filled with fish. Laying out his ware he began imploring me to buy some of the catch for dinner. When I declined he upped his sales spiel and quite soon was offering to off-load the entire lot for a negotiable price. Sensing my absolute disinterest in a deal he gave up and settled himself alongside.

We had been sitting silently for a while looking at the tide coming in before he spoke. “I don’t relish eating fish. It’s a sin to kill,” he said with a gravitas reminding me of moral science classes. “…if we don’t net it someone else will. Besides, only those fish not strong enough to evade our trap get caught.” His monologue now had an echo of Darwinism and had me glancing at him with a degree of amusement and admiration. The boy did know a thing or two about the survival of the fittest. I had seen him at work trying to beat competition from other little challengers. They all had tried but hadn’t pushed hard enough. They might have, I presumed, had this been a beach in Goa or Kerala. But this was Mandarmani, tucked away in the Bay of Bengal, and so far unaffected by burgeoning numbers. Like the hamlet its people had a languid attitude. Or maybe it was the wisdom of the sea that had rubbed off on them, making an eight-year-old sound so sagacious.

About four hours from Calcutta and 45 minutes short of Digha is Mandarmani, till a few years back just another anonymous sea-side village in the district of Purba Medinipur or Midnapore East, both names being functional. It has been discovered now and positioned as an alternate weekend getaway. Still, it’s a far cry, and thankfully so, from being labeled touristy though a string of all-budget hotels have lined up its shores. Herein lies the appeal of this seaside speck that “doesn’t have the roaring breakers of Puri” as I was woefully told, or the “fun of Digha” as others chipped in. “In fact it’s quite boring, a bit like Chandipur where the sea is miles away,” was another observation. I’ve often wondered why we get into needless comparisons. Why do we want Bombay to be Manhattan? Mandarmani offered itself and no more. And it was savoured.

The 173-km route from Calcutta snakes past Kolaghat, Contai (Kanthai) – which is also the closest you can get by the railways – and Chaulkhola where a left turn took us through a sequence of villages. What used to be a single, bumpy, dusty path running through the countryside till last year is now a paved stretch. The final 12 km ran through pastures and pukurs (ponds) which gave way to an assortment of construction, including mosque and temples, at Kalindi village which was a rundown sort of a place. As we entered Dadanpatrabar, the last link leading up to the destination, the landscape changed to lively red mud flanking the track, swaying coconut palms and a mix of concrete houses and conventional huts playing peek-a-boo. The settlement had been described in websites as a ‘charming costal village’ and it lived up to that reputation. Immediately after, we were vrooming on a beach road, the firm sand making it smooth as silk. The waters had receded by the time we arrived but the whiff of the sea was enough for a round of exclamation.

Mandarmani is petite and placid. Nonetheless it has a distinction to flaunt, if Google search is to be believed, of being Asia’s third longest and India’s best motorable beach. The statistic notwithstanding the 13-km beach is a delight to drive on and the feel of being on wheels at the edge of aquatic blue is brilliant. Though it’s prohibited to drive in the bay waters, adrenaline rush does get motorists racing like no tomorrow. Unaware of the stricture we drove a wee bit too close, to be duly summoned by the coast guard and admonished. By then we had had our share of thrill and surrendered to the order.

During the duration of our stay the seascape remained tepid, neither lit by golden skies nor by the mesmerising glows of dusk which add shimmer to the waves. It alternated between an overcast grey and pale blue, with a blaze of luminous orange making an appearance once briefly. The painterly element apart, the sea shares a special relationship with the sky. They seem to meet yet never do. Both appear limited by horizons yet remain boundless. It’s this infinity that the quietude of Mandarmani enhances, with the unruffled waters adding character to it.

More than often you are likely to be the only person on the beach at Mandarmani, so quiet is it for better part of the day. Once in a while an Ambassador races past or a Trax-taxi comes in loaded with local passengers. At other times the brightly-painted indigenous motorized cycle carts will honk on seeing vacationers and offer a ride up and down the beach, which is quite a splendid option if you haven’t come by your transport. A few thatch-roofed shacks selling either pretty souvenirs or offering meals with fish of choice under striped umbrellas are the other spots of action. On weekends, we were told, tourists do flock but the count is nowhere close to cousin Digha which remains the numero uno for the majority Calcutta crowd.

Tourist days apart, Mandarmani does come to life in the morning and evening hours when fishermen return or set off for the deep sea in their trawlers. Activity builds up when the catch comes in which largely is an inch-sized silver-coloured fish, that’s dried for use as manure or in preparing fish bait, a major means of livelihood for the population in Dadanpatrabar. On other occasions the variety of fish that netted is sold in markets around, some of it playfully so by Wasimuddin and his gang of imps.

There is, though, one perennial occupant of the beach: the army of red crabs. In such abundance do they dart around that I mistook them for a red canvas sheet lying sprawled on the beach’s western end, an area they prefer inhabiting. Unexpectedly, it’s these crustaceans that have played a part in contributing to the name of the place. According to legend, the population of crabs sunning themselves on the beach resembled fields of the mandar flower (a species of red hibiscus) leading locals to poetically refer to the area as ‘Mandarboni’ that over time has shaped into present day Mandarmani, which I had incorrectly assumed to be a dedication to a temple.

Our weekend in Mandarmani was a lot about lessons in nothingness. Of calm mornings, lazy noons and balmy evenings. Of long walks in gentle waters, collecting sea shells from the unspoilt seashore and watching sail-boats ride the waves. The resort tried wooing us with a plethora of organised games and folk-craft workshops which somehow felt too much of an effort to exert for the mind that preferred being surrounded by the tranquility of the coast.

We hoped the place stayed the way it was — shy and small. Looking at the hotel expansion on the cards tomorrow seems all set to change. Till then, the sage-speak of a young man by the sea will probably continue to outdo his fish-mongering skills.

Getting there

AIR: Nearest airport is at Kolkata, 173 km away

RAIL: The nearest train station is at Contai

ROAD: Mandarmani is best reached by road via NH 6. Try and move early if coming from Calcutta to avoid getting stuck in the traffic at Kolaghat bridge.

When to go:

Round the year. Best in winters.

STAY:

The Sana Beach Resort (033-64525172/09831031895) is star category but stuffed and hidden behind a wall of trees. The neighbouring Rose Valley (033-25006470) has friendlier ambience and spacious sea-facing rooms. Masara Beach Resort (0903861999) is an option for modestly-appointed cottages.

EAT

Stick to food at the hotels. Beach shacks do offer fresh fish but hygiene is questionable.

SHOP

Seashell bric-a-brac sold at the beach kiosks make for interesting buys. The shop at Sana Beach Resort has an assortment of sparkling quality objects.

SEE

Daily activities at the fishing settlements on both ends of the beach.

www.scribd.com/doc/29650387/mandarmani-ittp

Published in India Today Travel Plus, April 2010