It is 5.30 am, early December morning
in the City of Joy and two separate alarms on two Apple phones with different
tones go off together. The man of the house is quick to get up but falters to
press the stop sign and the alarms keep buzzing aloud. The woman of the house
shouts, “Are you trying to save
electricity by not putting on the light? The whole city is illuminated round
the clock in colours of blue and white and here you are saving a moment’s
electricity!” The man is now fully woken up by this lady alarm more than
the two Jobs’ ones and, finally, manages to turn them off. Yeah, men sometimes need a
good yelling to get the work done.
In no time the two are dressed in
summer casuals, hastily stuffing some cash from the wallet into the pocket,
before slipping into their footwear for the day, made famous by the First Lady
of the State, who never tires of wearing the bathroom slippers, which we call
Hawai chappals. The man takes out his mobile and calls for an Uber…mmm the car is ten minutes away so let me
try again…now the waiting time goes up to 12 minutes….the lady tells him to
wait for the cab patiently and not try again lest the waiting time goes beyond
15 minutes.
It is 6.00 am and the two are
waiting for the cab to arrive. The temperature in Kolkata at that moment is not
less than 18 degrees and the couple is highly amused to see the locals sitting
around a bonfire with their arms outstretched to feel the heat. With jackets
and pullovers on their bodies and the famous monkey caps to protect their so
called precious heads, the bongs are ready to face the winter chill.
It is 6.18 am and the cab comes
to a halt at a barricade ten metres away from a white and blue building named
Kalighat Police Station. The two passengers are confused and the man takes
courage to ask, Dada, Mondir ta kothai? (Where
is the temple?). Just walk straight
on this road and you will reach the temple in no time, said the man at the
wheels, wondering perhaps where these people have come from. Ok…Paytm achhe…ok…
Phone koro, prompts the lady. The man diligently dials and as the
person on the other side responds he gushes excitedly, Bablu da we have come. Ok, choley
aashoon stall number 82 teh. The two meander through the host of pandas or the pujaris waiting to hijack you at the site and, finally, reach stall
number 82 where Bablu, a good looking fellow in saffron half kurta and dhoti,
welcomes them with a broad smile. The two have got some fruits but add some pedas and jobar mala (hibiscus garland) to their cane basket. Keep your slippers inside the shop and come
with me, adds Bablu.
It is 6.30 am and Bablu takes them
to the main Kali Temple but asks them to follow him as he takes the steps up
while other pilgrims are coming down the same steps. The man wonders aloud if
they are taking the wrong path. Bablu smiles and calmly responds, All roads lead to the same place and
they continue climbing the steps. Inside the sanctum sanctorum it seems quite a
maddening place with people falling over others, pushing and jostling their way
through, just to get close to the goddess. There are a few other pandas like Bablu and then a toughie at
the gate suddenly stops the main set of
devotees and asks us to walk in to the inner most place. They can feel the wet floor and the trampled flowers and other
things with their bare feet but keep their eyes glued to the canopy for a good darshan
of Ma Kali. As they close their eyes to say a short prayer, the man hears
someone talking in perfect English, I am
the Head Priest of this temple. Hearing this, the man forgets his prayers
and cranes his head to see the Pope himself. He sees a man in white dhoti, very
impressive looking , talking to a VIP devotee. The head priest puts a shinning chaddar
over the shoulders of the VIP and says something that he could not catch in the din.
The VIP takes out a hundred rupee note and the head priest quickly takes off
the chaddar and says, I will not accept
anything less. By now our man has forgotten his prayers to the imposing
deity with her huge gold tongue while the lady of the house in all devotion,
oblivious of the happenings around, bends down to touch the feet of the
goddess. As told by Bablu, they put two hundred rupees in the donation box, pay
twenty bucks each to the toughie at the gate and another person managing the
crowd near the steps. Bablu too is thanked and rewarded. Overwhelmed by such a
close darshan of Ma, the two come out of the temple precincts with the flowers
and prasad.
It is 6.46 am and the man asks
the lady, Let us go to Victoria Memorial,
it is very nice in the morning there. She nods and he tries to book an Uber
but, as luck would have it, the money in the Paytm is short on balance and the
credit card has been left in the wallet at home. The man changes the payment mode
to cash and books another Uber. After having paid the driver in cash, the man
is now left with one fifty rupee and two five hundred rupee notes. He tries his
level best to get the change at the ticket window outside the entrance but
fails and now only a tenner and two five hundreds remain in his pocket. The
walk is very pleasant but surprisingly they do not find a single bong walking…only Marwari men who are busy doing their good deed of the day by throwing grains to the pigeons and their wives
who are wobbling rather than walking.
It is 7.25 am and the two now
complete their parikrama of this
modern day temple built for the Queen who once ruled the waves, no less than a
goddess, with her power stretching across continents. How do we go back home now? No Uber driver will give us change at this
hour so we should try walking to Rabindra Sadan, take a metro which will be ten
bucks for both of us, and then walk down home from Rabindra Sarobar. Just then
they see the imposing St.Paul’s Cathedral which neither of them has ever seen
from inside. As they walk in, they notice a board at the entrance which says
the visitor timings are from 10 am onwards and it is only 7.30 am. The man takes
courage and tells the wife not to even look at the sentry at the gate but confidently
walk in with folded hands as if in prayer mode. Surprisingly, the guard at the
gate does not say anything to them while he turns away three youngsters who want
to go inside too. Our early bird couple smile at each other and walk into the cathedral
where they see a priest. They wish him Good
Morning Father and get a warm smile in response. The helper inside says, Quickly see the Church and come out from
another gate. It was such a peaceful place and the only prayer they had
learnt in school …Our father in heaven…
is silently said and they walk out as if they have won a brilliant, unexpected victory
in a battlefield.
It is 7.45 am and the two now
feel emboldened to try some more adventure. Let
us go to Sharma Tea Stall and taste their famous tea. It cannot be too far
from here. Google map shows it is about 2.5 kms away and so the two begin their
long walk again in their flip flops. As they pass the Academy of Fine Arts and
Nandan, they are greeted with innumerable posters of Didi. There is a musical
festival going on in the city and instead of any artiste being shown, the CM’s
smiling face is there on every poster in pink. The lady quips, Forget the general people, does she herself
not get tired of seeing herself everywhere? She has shown her skills in
writing poetry and painting but about her musical talents the two have not much
heard of. So much for megalomania!
It is pretty early in the day, as the two walk
past the Institute of Post Graduate
Medical Education and Research, yet they see big quantities of rice being
cooked for the patients and their relatives who have spent the night sleeping
on the pavements or in nearby places and are now queuing up in front of the OPD
gates. Next they cross Gokhale Memorial School and College. Till today, neither the
students studying in this institute nor the teachers teaching there will ever pronounce
the name as Go-Kha-ley but prefer to call
it as Go-khael.…Bongs will be Bongs,
and they smile to themselves as they near their destination.
It is 8.05 am and the two are
standing in front of a pretty small and worn out place but already a large
number of people are standing and enjoying puri
sabji and tea in tiny earthen pots or khuris
. The man, always the greedy sort, instead of ordering a plate of small puris,
places order for two jumbo sized onion kachoris
and piping hot jalebis with garma-garam special chai. The boy,
taking the order, asks if they wanted tea with saffron…Na na they say…enough saffronisation is already happening, let us
leave the tea out of it. The food is so delicious but the lady stops the man
from ordering any more. She reminds him, You
are still on Norflox TZ.
It is 8.25 am and the two are now
ready to book an Uber with the change available after having paid Sharma ji. Their eyes fall on a nice small Gurudwara
right across the street and the two glance at each other. After thirty years of
having lived together, they know immediately that for both the next temple hop
is before their eyes. The Uber ride is cancelled and they cross the street, put
the chunni and handkerchief over their heads, and enter the Gurudwara. Again,
it is such a peaceful and clean place like the cathedral as compared to the Kali temple. Here prayers are offered once again…never possibly in their lives
have they offered so many prayers in a single day. The visit ends with a
handful of kada parshaad or garam halwa
, cooked in loads of ghee, being given generously and they savouring every bit
of this delicious prasaad.
It is 8.46 am and now they
finally book an Uber to go home. As they near their home they ask the cab to
stop at a point to see a small temple where Lord Shiva and Kali stood. This is
Buro Shib Tola or Old Shiva’s Place. They have gone past this temple
innumerable times but for the first time they notice the supreme deity wrapped
up in a green shawl like an old man…Oh now they understand why he is called buro or old man who is finding it
difficult to bear Kolkata’s winter even though his abode is at Kailasa, atop
the frozen mountains!
It is almost 9.00 am when the two
reach home while the other local bhadraloks
reach the fish market for the fresh catch. Phew…God Puja, Goddess Puja,
Raja Rani Puja, Pet Puja…all in a couple of hours…truly the best temple run
anyone could have imagined. After a short rest the duo go out to buy sarees, a
must in this city, and, as luck would have it, the first shop they enter, the
man at the counter says, Boudi aap ke liye
ek badhiya temple border dikhata hoon….Phir se temple...Nahiiiiin!
SS
