Tracing a versatile past

A caveat is in order. Supriya Newar and I share a Kalimpong connection: her maternal grandfather was one of most prominent entrepreneurs of this picturesque town in the Darjeeling district, where I began my career in the IAS — and this really created a bind and a bond in our first ever meeting at the Poetry Café of the Kolkatta edition of the Valley of Words. After she had recited her lovely poem in Hindi on what the 'bartans' in the kitchen felt when they lost their 'utilitarian purpose' to the stylised wedding ceremonies in farmhouses and marriage palaces, it evoked such a sense of nostalgia for the kitchens of yore in which herbs, spices, pickles, jams and all kinds of condiments jostled for space even as the hearth was always warm to spill out a range of delicacies. We agreed that the beauty of poetry transcends the language in which she is written. More so in a city like Kolkatta where Bangla, English, Hindi, and Urdu intersect with each other on every crossing!

Giving a flavour to this very versatile city of Kolkata is her offering, 'Kolkata Chronicles: Rear-View Reflections'. In over ten short essays and four poems (two in English and one each in Bangla and Hindi), Supriya talks of a Kolkata when it was still Calcutta, and subject to load shedding, ancient lifts, and bespoke tailors. Upper middle-class children who went to convents covered their textbooks and school copies with brown paper and accompanied their mothers, grandmothers and aunts for matinee shows, and occasionally to the ancient 'new market'. The supply of comics and books came from a sack which served as the lending library, the Trring Trring of the black phone with the massive telephone directory were symbols of status. Joint families went for holidays and excursions to journeys on trains which were still propelled by steam.

The YOLO generation of today with its obsession with FOMO may or may not enjoy the sheer nostalgia with which those born before colour television will enjoy Supriya's writings – for it opens up the world as it was till the late eighties. The opening up of the economy in the nineties saw new apartments, malls, designer labels, air travel and acceptance of men and women interacting with each other outside of the immediate family. It also saw the emergence of Kolkata as a cosmopolitan space in which interaction was not limited to the 'social class' that one grew up in, as commerce, education, politics, media, art and academia gave many people a chance to craft their own unique identities.

'I am the 'bodo saheb', in the corner office,

Somewhere in Dalhousie,

Earl Grey and a tee off get my day started at RCGC

The 'who's who' gathers for my galas

at my bungalow

Were liveried bearers with potent servings,

Help the conversations flow

Hung on my walls is an MBBS or bar at law from London.

You will often catch me say, My pleasure, or Beg your pardon'.

Let me share with the readers a flavour from each of her chapters. An 'Uplifting Ride' is the story of 'open air lifts' which were turned with a 'heavy, brass key' by a succession of operators who were aware of their 'power' to take a person high up or keep him/her on hold. These lifts were still in operation in Writers Buildings till the secretariat moved to Nabanna on the other side of the Ganga, as well as in the headquarters of the BCC&I which used to have the colonial-era-inspired settings and cuisine at the Palladian Lounge. The Bespoke Tailor reminds me of my own Abdul Bhai — even when I buy the fabric in Dehradun, I send it across to him, and pick it up when I visit Kolkata. Wrapping books, copies and gifts was a joy, and certainly far more personal than sending an online greeting. Middle class families invested in 'inverters' to ensure that at least a few lights were always on, and had their own preferred 'ticketwallas' who would procure the tickets for the preferred movies in the 'choice' theatres, of course at a premium. This generation may not realise that half the charm of going to a cinema was the sheer joy of being able to procure a ticket, and a 'first day, first show' was a moment of joy and jubilation to be shared with friends and colleagues with great relish. And the itinerant Kitab-Walla got magazines like Illustrated Weekly and Dharmyug – unfortunately, both could not keep pace with the changing tastes — besides popular comics ranging from Archies to Amar Chitra Katha and wonder-of-wonder Tintin.

Supriya is still fond of calling and receiving calls on the landline and naturally her chatter on Trring Trring makes the instrument, and its ecosystem — PP numbers and pocket-sized personal telephone directories with important telephone numbers — an interesting read. I too have preserved some of them, and there was certainly a personal feel and touch about these little notepads. Train journeys were not just about reaching a destination; they were also about the paraphernalia that accompanied the pax-bedding rolls, suitcases, trunks, vanity cases, tiffin boxes and a water carrier and steel tumblers. The AH Wheeler stall would supply the reading material for the journey. 'Homemade' actually makes one's mouth water with the descriptions of the pickles and papads. But the best piece of this collection is the story of 'New Market', and the freedom and anonymity which it afforded to the very conservative women of the Marwari households with the family matriarch slip into Karcos for an egg roll – a delicacy much frowned upon by a household where even garlic and onion was passe. As she puts it, "For a place that's called 'New', New Market is both old and unkempt... over the years, this mess has only grown manifold, hawkers eat up its pavements, its lanes continue to be littered and waterlogged in the monsoons. Its material decay is no doubt a pitiful sight … but in this age of instant gratification, New Market stands like a tall flame of Calcutta; its clock tower lying unwound, telling the time exactly as it stands there and in many other nooks and crannies of the city: still".

Views expressed are personal