Across the floors of the Raj Bhavan: The first time that Raj Bhavan, the erstwhile seat of the British Empire, entertained the idea of an alpona on its hallowed floors was in 2023. The result is that a team of 16 – I happened to be a ‘spare part’ participant – spent two days imprinting an under-rated traditional motif on the most colonial of all of Calcutta’s – and possibly India’s – estates
From the roof of St Paul’s: You need to climb a circular staircase to get to one level, negotiate a corrugated ripple (try walking), then climb into a narrower spiral that takes you to the highest point of one of the most handsome cathedrals this side of the Bosphorus. The awe of the height comes from the 360-degree view; the awe of the breadth comes from the gong that is activated every few hours from the height. There is rich tourism potential without compromising respect for what is essentially a place of worship. Bishop Canning will soon get a letter
From inside the South Park Street Cemetery: For an insight into a slice of late 19th century Calcutta, I prescribe a reading of the epitaphs at this cemetery. It is an irony that only a fraction of a fraction of all those who visit Park Street ever get to its eastern end, and spend less in entrance fee than what they tip transgenders at traffic signals. I suggest they spend less time in cafes and examine copies in the memory of children, adolescents and twenty-somethings from 250 years ago. These epitaphs concise the ‘history’ of a people, lifestyle adjustment, killer malaria, increased mortality and recall of the cherished. Some epitaphs could make you weep. Some will make you think. Some will make you grateful for the city you are in. Just go
From the church of St John’s, Dalhousie: There are names, marble slabs, carvings, figurines, typefaces, winding staircases, mausoleums, cane woven chairs, Zoffany’s diners… and a 600-pipe music organ. This is one of the most sophisticated sounds filtered through a convergence of musical instruments and amplified by cavernous architecture. Remember the diminutive Japanese in the Indian film called ‘Queen’ who bursts into tears when he hears an organ being performed inside a cathedral? I intend to request the pastor for the organ to be performed in the evening with the lights switched off and handkerchiefs passed around. Might heal better than daytime prayer
From the Tollygunge Club golf course: There are specific corners in this golf course that are so un-Calcutta. From inside the Shamiana off the Tipu Sultan Hole from where one can see a linear 300m. From a point on the course where lies a tree log and the Club House in the long distance. From the point where the clay walking trail trends up and then down on the western side. I have often salivated at the idea of reading a book, keeping a thermos-ed drink handy, planting legs on the bench and seeing golfers swing. Tomorrow never comes. Sadly
From the synagogue of Magen David: There is history you can cut out of the air at this synagogue on Brabourne Road. The Jewish place of worship is maintained by Muslims. The stained-glass window casting a distinctive colour shadow on the chequered marble. The vastness of the door. The pictured history of the community in Calcutta on the walls. In any other city, the pavement hawkers would have been removed to at least ten feet from the synagogue for worshipper convenience. Sadly, there are no worshippers here anymore (well, almost). Hence
From under the stained glass at St Paul’s Cathedral: The slant of the sunlight. The richness of the colours. The mosaic of the narrative. What Calcutta needs is a dedicated stained glass heritage walk that could commence with this Cathedral and extend to Sacred Heart Church (Esplanade) and St John’s (Dalhousie), among others. What we need is an appreciation of how stained glass is crafted. What we need is an interpretation of stained glass stories. What we need are the names of these stained glass artists. What we need is a wider appreciation of this architectural dimension that could spawn a new generation of stained glass conceptualisers
From under the Howrah Bridge: There is no better time to drink in the grandeur of one of the most iconic bridges in the country than in the evening when a band is playing on deck. Two things transpire seamlessly: one, the angle of the illuminated bridge (ideally warm yellow) evolves as the vessel moves into or out of the bridge; two, the sound transforms from uni-dimensional to echo-dimensional. I was on a boat when the celebrated Amitav Ghosh was speaking; as the vessel approached the bridge, heads turned, the speaker stopped, hands reached for smartphones, pictures were clicked and the speaker picked the sentence up from halfway as soon as the vessel cruised out from under
From inside Marble Palace: So much has been written on the Marble Palace that it becomes difficult to find the right words to evoke a picture that makes it possible for one to say ‘As good as I was there.’ Besides, public access has been restricted for a few years; those fortunate to get entry cannot shoot for social media consumption (presumably this applied to the great Jagger as well when he dropped in at MP a couple of months ago). The magic of the place is best captured within 15 minutes of sunset when you get the unusual blue of the sky as a free natural contextual backdrop for all the statues in the courtyard
From the hanging Sarobar bridge: This bridge is technically inside the Rabindra Sarobar masjid area. Wide enough to permit two individuals to barely pass without brushing each other. Would be ideal to examine at the time of a tangerine sunrise with fish milling under for a pre-breakfast feed and ducks hovering in the vicinity. Ideal rendezvous for the romantic. If this had been Paris, miniature locks would have appeared around the bridge’s wires as a ‘minnat’ (vow) for wishes to be fulfilled; lovers would have proposed to each other in the middle; pre-nup videos would have been shot here. Might still
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From Lake Market’s painted pavement: This insane experiment has not only transformed the neighbourhood square (convergence of Dr Sarat Banerjee Road and Maharaja Nandakumar Road) but has done something more: simulated a perspective of what a hawker-free Calcutta pavement can become. The fluid design, painted electricity box, curated handpump(!) and primer-ed kerbside – these are a vignette of a Calcutta that can (still) be. Will the paint endure? Possibly not. Will the lustre remain? Possibly not. But the swoop of Instagrammers and increased café footfalls have validated a conviction: if the city were just a bit better looking, consumer spending would rise, livelihoods would broadbase and our children may not need to migrate. Think
From the terrace of the Ramdulal Sarkar Street temple: This is the lane made famous by the confectioner with a singular specialisation (sandesh) and no branch behind the home of the celebrated Swami Vivekananda. The lane may now be developing its second calling: an illuminated Sree Sree Iswar Kalachand Jiu Mandir. The façade illumination is one thing; climb to the terrace to see the upper structure illuminated minutes after sunset. You might think you were in Agra, Jaipur or Delhi, the emperor was about to enter and Tansen was ready to begin
Tala Prattoy: Of all Calcutta spectacles of 2023, the most enduring will possibly be that of this pujo off Paikpara. It was an act of courage; it was more an art installation than a ‘pujo’ pujo; it was more a light-cum-shadow play than an art installation; it was more an event with corporate professionalism than an artistic presentation. This was the kind of production that awe-inspired Calcuttans pay top pounds sterling for museum time. It is a regret that the TP pujo had to be disassembled metal sheet by sheet. However, it inspired the optimism that with a precedent now in place ‘aaschay bochhor aabar hobay.’
