Kolkata

People, western people that is think and say quite a lot of things about Kolkata. Whatever they think or say or what ever you hear or think ... it's all rubbish. India has proved this to us over and over - you think a restaurant's going to be good - the food's inedible, a squalid cramped stop over turns into a romantic bolthole. You can never ever pin it down, preconception in India is useless and we held this thought like a lucky charm as we pulled through Dum Dum station at 6am.

Oh to be met at a station by a friendly embrace and a smiling face you recognise. After months of beating our way through the onslaught of touts and hawkers, rickshaw wallahs and scammers, having Kalyan and Rintu meet us was beautiful beyond words, and their generosity and kindness would amaze and enthrall us throughout our stay in Kolkata. They gave us all the help and love of a family and we are eternally grateful to them for showing us the real Kolkata and its people.

So with bleary eyes we took a cab to Chunibabu Bazar, North Kolkata, where Kalyan, Rintu and Suparna live with Rintu and Tinku's Parents. In the red light of the rising sun the cab stopped at a large intersection. A sheep started to nervously tiptoe across the junction. Then another,  and another, some more and then a whole flock, complete with weather worn shepherds in lungis making their way across the city at dawn. A beautiful first glimpse of the enigma that is Kolkata.

After we had a brief nap Kalyan was kind enough to give us an introduction to Kolkata on his only day off (6 day weeks are common in India - unless you work for the government - but more on that later!). We took a trip on a river boat affording great views of the old east india company wharf buildings (scarily like south London's victorian river vistas). Then onto the new Kolkata, Salt Lake City where steel and glass offices head skyward and names like HBOS and Price Waterhouse make a comparison to the docklands inevitable.

We got some very strange looks when we said to others that Calcutta reminded us of home. "Your nuts" people exclaimed, "what about the poverty?" they asked. Yes it is omniprescent and upsetting, the contrast between middle class and poor is breathtaking but this contrast is present in london also, to a degree. Go to Tower Hamlets, see the Canary Wharf tower from a run down housing estate and tell me there's no similarities. The wealth gap is always there in big cities and it is still growing and it fuels despair in rich and poor everywhere we have been. But Kolkata is not the sad city people perceive it to be (emphatically not), it is bursting with life, devout belief and religion sit side by side with academia and a culture of education that is second to none.

We were lucky enough to be invited to the Sengupta family puja. An intimate affair, which was wonderful, giving us the chance to help prepare and understand the importance of the various offerings to the Goddess and their religious significance.

Later came our volunteering at the Mother Theresa Missions of Charity. Not knowing what to expect, or how we would get on with the hard line Catholicism, we nerviously arrived at Prem Dan hospice early to be met by a chorus of "Hello Uncle, Hello Auntie". The inhabitants, were both men and women of any age (although predominantly over 40), in varying degrees of ill health who welcomed the stability of the hospice over the horrors of life and death on the street. No real health care is offered - its a home to either live or die with dignity instead of being in the street (there is considerable critisism for this moral stand point). However, after so many weeks of being waited on never cooking, cleaning etc the selfless repetative tasks were soothing, calming and it felt good to be doing something, anything, however small, to help the poor of Kolkata. As well as a rigorous cleaning and scrubbing programme we also helped bathing and dressing patients, dishing out lunch and feeding the less able.

After a meeting with Dr Anurag Danda of the WWF, which Kalyan kindly arranged we went with Rintu for a wonderful two day trip to the Sunderbans - one of the world's largest delta's and home to the last of the Royal Bengal Tigers (so named due to Philip's fondness for shooting them!). Just one thing needed - a trip to the Writer's Building - home of all West Bengali bureaucracy, where we had to obtain a visitors permit. "It will only take 5 minutes" Lottie and I were rightly sceptical.

As we arrived at the writers building the back doors of an adjacent van burst open and a flood of flag waving protestors from an opposition political party made a desperate rush at the building. They were promptly rounded up by the obviously forewarned police brandishing their lathi sticks and herded back on the bus leaving within a minute, with a police escort this time. Interesting start.

After surrendering our camera and submitting to a thorough search we were set loose inside the Kafka-esque nightmare that is the writers building. Although appearing as a single square facade from the outside, the interior of the complex consists of clusters of concrete towers, stacked in no particular order, surrounding the centre piece, the communist party headquarters - the only building in Kolkata to look maintained after 30 years of communist party rule. Armed with our piece of paper bearing the instructions "G5", we worked our way through the endless alleyways and courtyards, at last finding building G. Up and onwards through the chai whallahs and open sewers came labryinths of open doored offices of sleeping and smoking men, up to floor 5 which houses the forestry department responsible for, among other things, the foreigners permit to the sunderbans.

From floor to ceiling, on every desk, holding up furniture, were stacks of yellowing paper, files and portfolios most seemingly unopened for the last century. Amidst this scene, like something from the Hudsucker Proxy, were nestled the employees. Most smoking, drinking chai, sleeping, some in a state of undress, others shuffling files from one pile to another presumabley to make room for their feet on the desk.

We found Mr John in charge of very little it seemed and completed our form, which was promptly placed in a manila folder on his desk. And we waited. And we waited - until Lottie left to tell Rintu (waiting out side) what was not happening, before she exploded with rage. I put my feet up on the desk and started to day dream... I could work here... be quite nice...sleep the day away... free health care... nice big wage... go on strike when ever I fancy it... 10 til 4 ... 1 hr tiffin break...mmmmmmnnn samosas... zzzzzzz. A large snore from behind brought me round. A man appeared to my right (a different man to Mr John) and passed me the peice of paper I had filled out over an hour ago. "You leave now" This man was responsible for handing us the piece of paper, not filling it out, not stamping it, just erm handing it to us. A fine experience of Bengali bureaucracy, dont even ask about the post office!

After this experience the Sunderbans however more than made up for it. Aqua marine water spreading for unfathomable miles, the unchartered mangrove islands teeming with all manner of wild beasts - to see a place so utterly untouched by man, so close to a connurbation like Kolkata was heartening. We saw wild boar, giant herons, deer, King fishers (6 different kinds), monkeys, eagles, huge crocodiles - no tigers but hey who does? In the wilds of the mangroves and swamps it was enough to imagine them, prowling and eyeing up the tasty tourist boats. We visited a beautiful village with an inspirational school. Our guide was wonderful and his beautiful wife cooked us the most delicious coconut lobster curry.

We visited the kalighat temple, saw a goat being beheaded, maybe a more shocking sight if you havent been in India for 4 months but nice to see fervount hinduism, it took us back to Gokarna - which seems so far, far away now.

Rintu and Pussy ever the generous hosts took us on many shopping trips to our favourite place Shyam Bazar and we start to realize quite how lucky we are to have this introduction to Kolkata. The tourist ghetto of Sudder st and the several tourist sites are fine, but representative of Kolkata they are not.

Suparna spent hours hand painting Lottie with Henna and dressing her up in Sari and full garb until she looked the part - a proper little Memsahib! We sampled every West Bengali sweet under the sun, our favourite without a doubt Rasgulla, a type of cream cheese in the sweetest sugar syrup (sounds revolting - is utterly divine). They take their sweets very seriously in Kolkata and we are now connosieurs. You have to buy your Rasgullas from 1 particular shop, they come in a clay pot, swimming in syrup ..mmmmmn...

Rintu also took us to college street, the intellectual and literary centre of India. Literally hundreds of book stores all vying for space and business, we bought some Tagore and other treats and then retired to the famous Indian coffee house to read and that other great indian pasttime - Gossip.

Kolkata - a wonderful, rich and vibrant city and a place we are very keen to return to - we could carry on writing for ever! A huge thankyou to Kalyan, Rintu, Suparna and Tinku - without you our experience would have been nothing in comparison.