I was born in Calcutta, and have spent 27 years of my formative years in the city. The last few years that I have been away, I have always heard people saying- that it is a struggle to adapt to the non Calcuttan way of life! What is then the Calcuttan way of life?

I, define it as a simple uncomplicated living devoid of hypocrisy with a laidback relaxed outlook towards life. A contended existence with limited desire for materialistic pleasures but insatiable appetite for cultural! This is probably one of the reasons that the city still manages to retain its essence and character even as the rapid commercialization of mind and matter keeps the world around it, hopping on one foot rather than dancing on two. The argumentative, easily provoked, over sensitive Calcuttan will form genuine relationships which will not be influenced by your mailing address or the make of the car you drive but by the sincerity in your eyes and the honesty in your tone.

This is the only culture where the word ‘Ma’ and the feminine form is respected and revered in its true sense. Hence growing up as a woman of this soil, one develops kaleidoscopic interest in art, music, dance and other finer things in life. This city anyways has always been the great sensorium of the nation. People here beautifully mediate between the larger world outside and their self -created utopian world, hence creating an aspect of shimmering iridescence.

Calcutta is probably the only city where friendships are formed over a cup of tea and shingara, and most often are stronger and deeper than any other consanguineous relationship. Having worked as a business development professional in the city, I can talk from experience that most of the sales deals have been over cups of tea and watching numerous cricket matches, if India won, then the deal value increased in geometric progression and if India lost which in early 2000 was more of a reality, well, then I had to wait patiently until all the animated discussion around the game was over and the frustration blown away in puffs of gold flake smoke. However, by the time I would return to office, my inbox would have a confirmation email. The pattern was more or less similar across corporate houses, ad agencies, and government babus, in my routine meetings with them hours were spent vociferously analysing every headline of the paper and only five minutes discussing the deal. The business just happened once it was identified that I was one of them- A Calcuttan!- in the true sense.

It was quite the opposite in any other city, every penny of the deal was exhaustively discussed, clauses fiercely negotiated, one million value additions were included, the price offensively debated and after all the drama and melodrama the deal was signed, sealed and delivered, only to later realize that it still was a no deal! So, the very essence of who you are makes you effortlessly adapt to every modern twist subconsciously interweaving with your innermost archaic aspects of life.

What is clear without a doubt is, that wherever in the world one goes, one carries the imprints of one’s childhood and thereon life is a magical process of reflection and revelation! So, every year come September, when the chants and melodies of Mahalaya echo through the corridors of my heart, I am transferred back to the city of contradictions. I miss the city most during the pujos……I remember waking up to the constant cawing of the crow on the window, the honking of the ambassador taxis, the bell of the rickshaw pullers, the chatter of the neighbourhood ladies and the melodious beat of the dhak in the pandals, as I breathe easy sipping masala chai in the balcony- my ears, and all my senses naturally accustomed to the bustle and chaos of the city.

My plane hovers in the pink and orange evening sky, and I can feel my heart ache and soar at the same time. So much has changed yet so much remains the same. Poverty stares from every corner as another part of the city continues to prosper vertically, but what binds it together is the hyperactivity, the joy and exuberance of life that resonate through the songs and in the smiles of the people.

The captain announces- 20 minutes to touch down! and my mind starts drawing images of the mouth-watering – biryani, the rolls on park street, the jhal muri, the puchka and the spicy Chinese at Tangra. 10 minutes to touch down and I’m already breathing the humid air and my heart is roaming in the vast green maidan, through the hustle and bustle of park street and in the lanes and by-lanes of the city ….and by the time the planes touches down, my heart skips a beat, there is a magical smile on my lips and I let all my guards down…. completely at ease with everything and everybody….…..I know this is my little corner, the only place in the whole world, where I am my own.