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.
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.
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