Last weekend, myself and my housemate took a boat trip on the Hoogly River. We walked across some flat river barges to get to this old boat lit up like a Christmas tree. As the evening began to darken, we were treated to a spectacular sunset over the river. The music was intoxicating. At last, I felt like I was in India. Once night fell, the fireworks began exploding on the far side of the river. As the boat passed near the river bank, I watched immersion ceremonies taking place as part of Kali Puja. After an hour on the river, the boat returned to the start point. My housemate, who is also named Eoin, was glad we didn't get the three hour cruise. I felt an hour was plenty. We walked back into town. Every now and then, some random person would come up to us, greet us and shake our hands. We could only smile and said hello back. However, I'm surprised that people don't take more notice of us. I was told that people will stare constantly but I haven't experienced this. Just as we were about to descend to the metro station, I heard the sound of drums and saw what looked like a parade on the far street. I said “Parade” and Eoin was off like a shot once he saw what I was referring to. There was a brass band, lots of drums, dancers and one guy on a cycle rickshaw playing a tiny keyboard with his left hand. There were two statues surrounded by colourful, twinkling lights being powered by noisy, dirty engines. We stuck with them for a while but eventually found their progress too slow for our liking. We walked on past Eden Cricket Stadium and down to the river, where we witnessed more immersion ceremonies up close. There were so many statues being thrown into the river. I wondered where they ended up. We eventually decided to head back as our feet were wrecked. But it was a worthwhile detour. Just before we reached our apartment, we wandered down a side street to see one of the many small temples set up for Diwali. On closer inspection, we were amazed to discover that the intricate designs were made from Styrofoam.
Last week, I started teaching the keyboard to some boys in one of the homes. It went very well although every time I go back, there are more and more keys missing from the already battered keyboard. But it works for me and that's all that matters. It was during one of these sessions that I got a call from one of the other volunteers asking me did I want to go on a weekend trip to some place in India. I barely heard the name at the time. I was willing to try anything. I later got a text telling me we were going to the Sundarbans Tiger Reserve. Fantastic! When I told one of my friends back home where I was going, he replied, “Hope those tigers can't swim!” That's exactly what they can do. The Sundarbans mangrove forest is the world's largest estuarine forest and are part of the world's largest delta formed by the Ganges, Brahmaputra and Meghna. I met four others volunteers and our tour guide at the unearthly hour of 6.30am. We were told we were getting on a boat approximately 100km south of the city. The drive would take two and a half hours. Wait, what? How could it take that long? I had forgotten that India has a population of nearly 1.2 billion people. There were people everywhere, going somewhere on foot, bicycle, motorbikes, trikes, mopeds, buses and trucks. It was not unusual to see sixteen people crammed into a auto-rickshaw the size of an old Mini Cooper. None of this deterred our driver who hooted and swerved his way around obstructions for most of the 100km trip. It was terrifying yet thrilling. We reached the boat that was to be our accommodation for the next two days. It was very basic but I simply didn't care. As I sipped coconut through a straw, I thought to myself, “this is bliss!” While cruising through the many tributaries, we saw rhesus monkeys, spotted deer, great egrets and blue-eared kingfishers. We didn't actually see any tigers. We saw their paw prints descending to the water. It wasn't much of a surprise because there are only about 250 of them spread out over an area of 2,000sq km. I didn't really mind. The weekend was spent sitting on a boat, playing cards in the dusk and swatting at the bugs that swarmed around us at night. It was about getting away from the noise and pollution of Kolkata, if only for two days. On the boat ride home, we stopped to explore the river bank. This turned into a walk through a rural settlement surrounded by paddy fields. The thatched houses were made of mud and bamboo. There were sheep, goats and cows grazing on what little grass they could find. The people were brightly dressed and happy to have their picture taken. The only evidence of the outside world was one boy holding a radio and fluorescent lights hanging on the trees. Our trip back was in stark contrast to our isolated boat trip. There were even more bicycles and motorbikes but I only saw one person wearing a helmet. As twilight descended, nobody turned on their lights. They were only used intermittently to warn other road users of their presence. We passed through one town in which a soccer game was being played. Try to imagine the streets surrounding a large stadium before or after a sports event. Now half the area and treble the number of people. The jeep was completely smothered by smiling Indians. But we never once felt threatened by the huge numbers surrounding us. We arrived back in Kolkata in one piece. If I was guaranteed the sight of a man-eating Royal Bengali Tiger, I'd do it again.
BOOM!!! That was the sound of a firework going off. I'm staying in an area of Kolkata known as Tollygunge. I'm sharing an apartment with three other volunteers. I got in on Monday night and was met by my volunteer coordinator, Alicia. It wasn't too terrifying as I had met her before. A combination of hunger and jet lag caused me to forget her name. She forgave me. The taxi ride back into the city was terrifying. The roads are two or three lanes wide in places but there are no road markings. Trucks, buses, taxis, motorbikes and auto-ricksaws compete for space to a cacophony of horns, bells and whistles. Drivers change lanes without any warning. Some drive without lights. Others drive the wrong way up the road. It's like they took the rule book, glanced at the first page and then tossed it aside while muttering, “too much effort.” Finally, I was dropped outside my apartment block and did a double take on seeing the sign. The Executive Suite? I didn't come here to stay in a place called The Executive Suite. It was very plush and I suppose it was a good way to settle in. I was moved out three days later. On Tuesday morning, I took a walk through the streets. At first, I was expecting something more. Where are all the throngs of people? Why amn't I covering my ears from the noise? Perhaps it was a quiet morning. I found an ATM and was delighted when it gave me a couple of hundred rupees. I was told to relax so I went back to my apartment for a snooze. Later that afternoon, Alicia picked me up and brought me to the boys home. We then visited another one of the homes where one of her students was staying. He introduced himself, shook my hand and asked me my name. I watched a group of guys playing a game involving round plastic discs on a table with pockets at each corner. It looked like a combination of air hockey and pool. When they asked Alicia to play, she declined. Her student then said, “if you don't try, you'll never learn.” I was very impressed by this and resolved to remember it.
The next day, I met up with a group of fundraisers from the UK branch of the Hope Foundation. We were taken on a tour of the various projects scattered around the city. I won't go into too much detail about them as I've written about my experience for the Hope Foundation's website. I will say that it was both harrowing and inspiring. I want to share an example of the Indian sense of humour that we encountered in one of the slums. As we walked through the settlement, two men rode by us on a bike. One of them said, “where are you going?” in a mocking voice. I found this amusing but I'm not sure why. One of the UK group then recounted a story of the time he was in Madagascar and one of the children came up to him and repeatedly said, “what's my name?” Despite their horrendous living conditions, people here always find something to smile or laugh about. They are always happy to see us and express delight when we share their local handshake with them. It involves sticking out one's index and baby finger and joining them with another person's fingers. The hand then rotates around the thumb into a handshake. Sometimes, the kids jerk away their hands and run it through their hair. They laugh when we attempt to do the same. So far, Kolkata has surprised me. This city is bursting with life and vitality. It is not a place that is easily described. It must be experienced to discover why it is known as “The City of Joy.” Apart from the heat, I'm having a wonderful time here. Today, Bengalis celebrate Diwali, the Festival of Light. Tonight should be spectacular...
Last weekend, myself and my housemate took a boat trip on the Hoogly River. We walked across some flat river barges to get to this old boat lit up like a Christmas tree. As the evening began to darken, we were treated to a spectacular sunset over the river. The music was intoxicating. At last, I felt like I was in India. Once night fell, the fireworks began exploding on the far side of the river. As the boat passed near the river bank, I watched immersion ceremonies taking place as part of Kali Puja. After an hour on the river, the boat returned to the start point. My housemate, who is also named Eoin, was glad we didn't get the three hour cruise. I felt an hour was plenty. We walked back into town. Every now and then, some random person would come up to us, greet us and shake our hands. We could only smile and said hello back. However, I'm surprised that people don't take more notice of us. I was told that people will stare constantly but I haven't experienced this. Just as we were about to descend to the metro station, I heard the sound of drums and saw what looked like a parade on the far street. I said “Parade” and Eoin was off like a shot once he saw what I was referring to. There was a brass band, lots of drums, dancers and one guy on a cycle rickshaw playing a tiny keyboard with his left hand. There were two statues surrounded by colourful, twinkling lights being powered by noisy, dirty engines. We stuck with them for a while but eventually found their progress too slow for our liking. We walked on past Eden Cricket Stadium and down to the river, where we witnessed more immersion ceremonies up close. There were so many statues being thrown into the river. I wondered where they ended up. We eventually decided to head back as our feet were wrecked. But it was a worthwhile detour. Just before we reached our apartment, we wandered down a side street to see one of the many small temples set up for Diwali. On closer inspection, we were amazed to discover that the intricate designs were made from Styrofoam.
Last week, I started teaching the keyboard to some boys in one of the homes. It went very well although every time I go back, there are more and more keys missing from the already battered keyboard. But it works for me and that's all that matters. It was during one of these sessions that I got a call from one of the other volunteers asking me did I want to go on a weekend trip to some place in India. I barely heard the name at the time. I was willing to try anything. I later got a text telling me we were going to the Sundarbans Tiger Reserve. Fantastic! When I told one of my friends back home where I was going, he replied, “Hope those tigers can't swim!” That's exactly what they can do. The Sundarbans mangrove forest is the world's largest estuarine forest and are part of the world's largest delta formed by the Ganges, Brahmaputra and Meghna. I met four others volunteers and our tour guide at the unearthly hour of 6.30am. We were told we were getting on a boat approximately 100km south of the city. The drive would take two and a half hours. Wait, what? How could it take that long? I had forgotten that India has a population of nearly 1.2 billion people. There were people everywhere, going somewhere on foot, bicycle, motorbikes, trikes, mopeds, buses and trucks. It was not unusual to see sixteen people crammed into a auto-rickshaw the size of an old Mini Cooper. None of this deterred our driver who hooted and swerved his way around obstructions for most of the 100km trip. It was terrifying yet thrilling. We reached the boat that was to be our accommodation for the next two days. It was very basic but I simply didn't care. As I sipped coconut through a straw, I thought to myself, “this is bliss!” While cruising through the many tributaries, we saw rhesus monkeys, spotted deer, great egrets and blue-eared kingfishers. We didn't actually see any tigers. We saw their paw prints descending to the water. It wasn't much of a surprise because there are only about 250 of them spread out over an area of 2,000sq km. I didn't really mind. The weekend was spent sitting on a boat, playing cards in the dusk and swatting at the bugs that swarmed around us at night. It was about getting away from the noise and pollution of Kolkata, if only for two days. On the boat ride home, we stopped to explore the river bank. This turned into a walk through a rural settlement surrounded by paddy fields. The thatched houses were made of mud and bamboo. There were sheep, goats and cows grazing on what little grass they could find. The people were brightly dressed and happy to have their picture taken. The only evidence of the outside world was one boy holding a radio and fluorescent lights hanging on the trees. Our trip back was in stark contrast to our isolated boat trip. There were even more bicycles and motorbikes but I only saw one person wearing a helmet. As twilight descended, nobody turned on their lights. They were only used intermittently to warn other road users of their presence. We passed through one town in which a soccer game was being played. Try to imagine the streets surrounding a large stadium before or after a sports event. Now half the area and treble the number of people. The jeep was completely smothered by smiling Indians. But we never once felt threatened by the huge numbers surrounding us. We arrived back in Kolkata in one piece. If I was guaranteed the sight of a man-eating Royal Bengali Tiger, I'd do it again.
