WEST BENGAL- DAY 5- PART II & BIDAYA

JAN 29TH & JAN 30TH

As 6 Ballygunje is bid adios and with the vehicle enveloped in the wafting aroma of calcata paan, its energised travellers are off to complete the day’s itineraries. Shortage of time means that many icons of the city will have to just get seen from the window of the passing vehicle.

“Don’t worry Madamji” says Hari Singh. “I will show you all that is good in Calcata and give a running (or, in this case, a driving) commentary too.” The plan is to visit the Belur Math and then fulfill a long-lasting wish- the Dakshineshwar Temple.

A DRIVE THROUGH THE CITY

During the interim time, Hari Singh will guide through the city. And so it is off to the administrative parts of the city, crossing flyovers and crowded city roads.

“We are approaching the Bridge”, says Hari Singh, just as the journey over the 700-metre bridge begins. “Please slow down Hari Singh ji” is the response. It is a moment in time that may never come again. The iconic Howrah Bridge is here.

The daily traffic of vehicles, cyclists, and pedestrians moves on. For them, it may just be a connection from one part of the city to the other. But for the visitors to the city, it’s an experience. As the River Hooghly gently flows below, the huge suspension bridge with its mighty steel beams gets crossed. The Bridge, built from 1936 to 1943 got renamed as Rabindra Setu in 1965, but popularly retains its old name. It is one of the busiest bridges in the world with a daily movement of 1 lakh vehicles and 1.5 lakh pedestrians.

Hari Singh turns to the left and the bridge gets left behind, but remains visible for several km.

Soon enough Hari Singh announces the arrival of the Howrah Junction– the oldest, busiest, and largest railway station in the country. It’s only a drive-by, but the imposing structure leaves an impact nevertheless. This is the place where many of the support staff working all over the country begin their journeys in the hope of a better future.

The drive continues. Hari Singh points out to the PWD HQ, the Police HQ, the ITC HQ, Eden Gardens, and then, with special pride, to the Hotel which is his workplace.

On a special request, it is now off to Didi’s home at Harish Chatterjee Street. Well, only to the connecting road. Didi, the CM of the State still lives in her family home. The result is that the road leading up to her residence is heavily barricaded with a lot of Police personnel on duty. Hari Singh slows down and points somewhere far away. “Didi’s home is there,” he says his left hand extending as much as possible in the direction. Amongst the mass of rooftops of several homes is that one home where the gritty CM lives.

OLD KOLKATA

It is now time to move towards old Kolkata.

As the older part of the city approaches, the traffic gets more congested, and the blaring of horns more prominent. There are rows and rows of people living by the roadside, their tarpaulin shelters acting as the only home they will ever have.

As the drive continues, a passenger train races past along the parallel rail track. It is a long-distance train, and each passenger for sure carries their unique dreams, aspirations, hopes, and anxieties. The cycle of life continues.

About half an hour later there is an avid discussion on whether Dakshineshwar Temple should be first visited or the Belur Math. They both are almost across each other with the Hooghly being the divider.

As always Hari Singh wins. Belur Math it is.

SERENITY IN THE CITY

Belur Math is the global headquarters of the Ramakrishna Math and the Ramakrishna Mission, founded by Swami Vivekananda in honour of his gurus Swami Ramkrishna Paramahansa and Ma Sarada. Spread over 40 acres, on the banks of the Hoogly, the Belur Math is famed the world over for its secular nature.

The campus houses 3 main temples, one each dedicated to Ramakrishna Paramhansa, Ma Sarada, and Swami Vivekananda where their relics are enshrined. Among other buildings are a museum, a bhojanalaya, the administrative offices of the Math, the living quarters of the monks, and at least 3 prasadam centres.

As the heavy traffic gets manoeuvered, time is flying by. It will be dusk soon. Finally turning to the left, Hari Singh drives a few yards and halts in front of a huge gold-coloured entrance gate. Belur Math has arrived.

The grand entrance, with symbols of all world religions, is itself a sight to behold. Today, the campus is chock-a-block with visitors. Catching snippets of their conversations and trying to guess their mother tongues while steering through the heavy crowd becomes a fun exercise.

It’s a race to reach the Ghat, a must-see here. The Ghat itself is one of the best maintained in the country.

Across the serene and wide Hooghly is the Dakshineshwar temple, as also many parts of old Kolkata.

Visitors and devotees are enjoying the last of the setting sun. Many are busy photographing or taking selfies while standing on the steps leading to the Ghat. There is a large crowd, yet there is no pushing, jostling, or even a talk above the normal decibel. It is as if the aura of this special place has unconsciously seeped in.

And then, the magic gets broken. A loud shrill whistle and the guard is now asking everyone to leave the Ghat. It is time for the evening aarti. The math miraculously transforms into a fairyland where each building is lit with a hundred lights. People begin thronging to the main temple for a dekko of the aarti. Those who cannot manage watch it on any one of the 3 life-size LCDs.

ANXIOUS MOMENTS

Once back at the entrance, the challenge of finding Hari Singh begins. The mobile with his number secured is in the now ‘all of a sudden’ elusive car. A long wait at the entrance and several walks up and down the road finally brings the realisation that Hari Singh is not going to have an ‘aha ‘ moment and come looking for his passengers. Some other steps will have to be taken.

A brainwave later, the hotel gets contacted, which in turn contact Hari Singh’s workplace sister hotel, which then contacts Hari Singh, and finally the white Innova glides back. Hari Singh shows no emotions though he may have had a laugh or two at his passengers before turning on the car keys after presumably having concluded the phone call. The passengers prefer not to rake up the matter too, it reflecting an unorganised nature.

DAKSHINESHWAR BLESSINGS

Hari Singh drives on and crosses the flyover, the rail track, and the tarpaulin shelters of the rough-living city residents. Defying all the congestion and unnecessary honkings, the able driver transports his passengers to the Dakshineshwar Temple of Ma Kali.

If the Belur Math was squeaky clean, Dakshineshwar is immaculately spotless. This in itself is unique indeed.

A short walk from the parking and the entry gate arrives. Built in 1855 by a diehard Ma Kali devotee, Rani Rashomoni, the campus houses 12 temples dedicated to Shiva, one to Radha-Krishna, a huge banyan tree known as Panchbati where Ramakrishna Paramhansa gained spiritual enlightenment, and of course, the Ma Kali Temple.

It is now already dark and a large number of pilgrims are queuing up waiting with patience for the temple doors to open to the public. It is the time of evening aarti and the wait will be for long. The long line of devotees keeps increasing, and as time moves on, several parallel queues get formed. Though all remain calm, talking to each other in whispers, so as not to disturb the surroundings. With an admirable calm, each awaits their turn to reach the place of worship.

The night sky gets deeply studied, the pigeons settling for the night in rows and rows on the parapet of the stunning temple complexes get counted, and the co-devotees get observed. Children playfully occupying their time get smiled upon, the four-legged friends resting below the stairs get carefully noted, the electric bulbs lighting the premise get admired, and the entry gate gets turned to repeatedly for want of anything better to do. And yet, time slows to its minimum. The aarti continues and Ma Kali makes all her devotees wait.

Finally, some movement is visible on the steps leading to the main temple. The front liners are now straightening their dress’ creases, arranging their prayer thalis, their faces now looking up to the temple in anticipation. The gong which had been ringing non-stop for as long as possible stops, leaving in its wake a strange silence. The line of devotees begins moving ahead. The doors of the temple are finally open.

There She is. Ma Kali in all her glory. A peak, a sneak, a glance, hands folded, head bowed, and then prasadam from the head priest, and a long-held desire gets fulfilled.

This time reaching back to the vehicle is easier. Hari Singh somehow sees his passengers from a distance and meets mid-point.

PUCHKAS TO WIND UP THE DAY

The last stop of the day is a puchka (paani puri) stop. As always, Hari Singh has registered the request, not finding it necessary to acknowledge the same. But his eyes are on the lookout for a good shop as he begins the drive back. Soon enough, he stops at one roadside kiosk, and the city’s famed street food gets enjoyed, though how it differs from its brethren anywhere else in the country is open to question.

But, it is not about the taste. Some things are beyond comparison. They are part of a legacy, and the lack of it would deprive the city of its magic.

Thus concludes the last evening in this beautiful city and State.

BIDAYA BENGAL

The next morning will bring a quick visit to Tangra Bazaar, the Chinatown of the city, a lunch of all cuisine Chinese, and then a goodbye to this City of Joy, matchless to any other city in the world.

As the taxi flies by to the airport, the driver has no idea of the emotions his passengers are taking with them back home, the memories of adventurous travels, of being one with history, of delectable cuisines, of welcoming people with open hearts.

Of a State called West Bengal, an eye opener if there ever was so.

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For West Bengal -related videos, including the video on the Howrah Bridge please log on to Youtube Channel – @gitanjalikhanduri314