The first semester is already coming to an end. Life here has been like riding waves that sooner or later crash on the shore. Lessons learnt. Knowledge gained? I am not so sure. A disappointing dispersal to a hopeful start. Hope is not yet forlorn but positivity tugs on for the next semester.

CIEFL is a (central) government institution, whole and soul. The stink of corruption is reflected by way of shocking newspaper articles one day and followed by even worse clarifications on the next. Dad says keep quiet, do not get involved in any sort of politics. What do you do when you are part of a system? Do you let filth collect over the years, to form a stagnant harmful pool breeding what strengthens the system? Or do you stand up for yourself? For the right to good education. For the right to professors who can actually impart some knowledge.

I thought the “chalta hai” attitude only plagued our dear city of Mumbai but it is evident in every government institution. It gnaws at you and scratches on your final threads of patience. Why should you make do with it? Why can’t you demand for what you deserve? So what if you have to get your hands dirty to clean the grease?

But it has not been a total waste of time- the last three months. The people here have made up for all the confusion, for the round of diseases, for the carelessness of truck drivers, for the disorganized and ruptured system existing at what is now known as 'EFLU'.

Next time I hope to tell you about happier things. My intention is not to scare you. I am managing just fine. Thank you very much.

My day to say adieu is finally here and my stomach churns brimming hope and anticipation with fear. I imagine myself jumping into the pool from duck tales-the only difference in my fantasy will be the kind of wealth. Knowledge is what I was trying to imply, just in case there was a decoding problem.

 

Hyderabadi Biryani is what I’v come up with so far for the latest tag to pen my stories under. Will rethink of a better tag name if time and my mood permits. Somehow, I am always stuck with food. No?

 

Life’s taken a fresh new course and I plan to leave my baggage behind to plunge into what the pool has to offer. Having said that I know things are not going to be the same ever again once I get back post the long gap. I have no regrets. Who regrets flying away, getting a free pass, tasting life without any ties?

 

In case you didn’t know, I leave tonight for Hyderabad to study at CIEFL University for the next two years. What about Kolkata? To cut a long story short, we did not work out. What do I intend to study? My MA in English. Specialisation? Does it matter? I have an entire semester to decide. Goodbye and I will be back after the break.

 

The city of joy

The first thing I had heard about the city was from my dear mother crinkling her nose- “Chee. Kolkata is such a dirty city.” Almost like the odour of the city found its way into her nose. It turned out the city was cleaner than Mumbai, well now what do you have to say?

 Everything about the city fascinated me from the way everyone from the sweet seller to the paanwala assumed you spoke Bengali. From the way the sweet shops and the medicine shops were swarming with big bellies; almost like the way Mumbai-ites fill up the puny footpaths of Colaba Causeway. From the way two silly dogs were barking and chasing each other outside my examination room on the first floor of Jadavpur University. From the way women sat under a huge Gulmohar tree holding huge black umbrellas trying to shield themselves from the sun (if not the painful humidity) by the lake. From the way the sun lit up the city at half past five every morning.

I found solace in this land away from home. Kolkata might not have a Queens Necklace or the spirit of Mumbai but it still offered me peace and recuperation. I found solace in the Ramakrishna mission on Golpark, in its lush garden with my favourite sunflowers smiling at me, in the extravagant home cooked meals and in the white buildings. And about the buildings- there were beautiful red-bricked Brit buildings on every street, some red, some white. The structures were indeed the most delightful-purple, pink, yellow, blue, red and white. There was no lack of colour in this beautifully vivid city, it also extended to its people. Bright Kalkata cotton tapestries hung outside shops. These did not call out to me as the kheer kadom and the mishit doi did from every third shop.

 

About Kolkata Abaarkhabo:  is the tag under which I- a Bombay-ite, pen my experiences of Kolkata. Abaarkhabo is a speciality sweet made of cottage cheese coated with kheer. Abaarkhabo literally means something that you want to taste over and over again.