But the proof is in the belly...
...and much more. A young man from Sikkim speaks about the city
...and much more. A young man from Sikkim speaks about the city
Seven years ago when I came to Calcutta, fresh out of school and raring to take on the much anticipated college life, I was sorely disappointed. With no multiplexes to speak of, no shopping malls (barring the Vardaans and AC Markets), no KFCs and Big Mac, Calcutta presented a perfect counterpoint to my concept of a happening city.
I still remember the patronising tone that my friends studying in Bangalore adopted whenever they enquired about my college life. Those moments welled up strong feelings of resentment against the city.
All this was of course before someone, perhaps fuelled by both numerology and an unerring sense of history, decided to change the city’s fortunes by replacing ‘C’ with ‘K’. Since then “Kolkata” seems to have woken up fine and now on any given weekend, nightlife here is as vibrant as any city in India. Though I must admit that my love for the city grew along with its transformation, it has in reality very little to do with it. The passing years gradually effaced my impression of the city as cold and forbidding as I began to perceive in it warmth that only increased at the mention of the cold mountains that I was from. Almost every second Bengali I met had been to Sikkim and had loved it. Making friends, I suddenly discovered, was never so easy.
Tell me if I mentioned anywhere that these seven years were one smooth sailing because that would be a big lie. For not only did I brave the sweltering heat of the city, I also faced “ching-chang choo” jeers. To many these taunts might seem innocuous, but to those who are at the receiving end, it is a reminder that you are different and that you do not belong here.
The beautiful days that I spent studying in Jadavpur University are enough to wipe out any unpleasant memories of the city, and even now there is nothing more relaxing for me than taking a lonely walk around the campus of this beloved institution. It was in this city that I first fell in love with a girl and it was here that I acquired friends who I know will always be there for me.
After all these years I have learned to feel less of an outsider now; and it is not on few occasions that I flaunt my gladly earned “Bengaliness” to unsuspecting souls by shocking them with a few smatterings of the language. It is when my vague knowledge of the language fails to attest my claim to the city that I politely point towards my round protruding belly. Like most pampered paunches leading their owners round the city, mine too has been fed by countless gulab jamuns and sweet dahi.
I still remember the patronising tone that my friends studying in Bangalore adopted whenever they enquired about my college life. Those moments welled up strong feelings of resentment against the city.
All this was of course before someone, perhaps fuelled by both numerology and an unerring sense of history, decided to change the city’s fortunes by replacing ‘C’ with ‘K’. Since then “Kolkata” seems to have woken up fine and now on any given weekend, nightlife here is as vibrant as any city in India. Though I must admit that my love for the city grew along with its transformation, it has in reality very little to do with it. The passing years gradually effaced my impression of the city as cold and forbidding as I began to perceive in it warmth that only increased at the mention of the cold mountains that I was from. Almost every second Bengali I met had been to Sikkim and had loved it. Making friends, I suddenly discovered, was never so easy.
Tell me if I mentioned anywhere that these seven years were one smooth sailing because that would be a big lie. For not only did I brave the sweltering heat of the city, I also faced “ching-chang choo” jeers. To many these taunts might seem innocuous, but to those who are at the receiving end, it is a reminder that you are different and that you do not belong here.The beautiful days that I spent studying in Jadavpur University are enough to wipe out any unpleasant memories of the city, and even now there is nothing more relaxing for me than taking a lonely walk around the campus of this beloved institution. It was in this city that I first fell in love with a girl and it was here that I acquired friends who I know will always be there for me.
After all these years I have learned to feel less of an outsider now; and it is not on few occasions that I flaunt my gladly earned “Bengaliness” to unsuspecting souls by shocking them with a few smatterings of the language. It is when my vague knowledge of the language fails to attest my claim to the city that I politely point towards my round protruding belly. Like most pampered paunches leading their owners round the city, mine too has been fed by countless gulab jamuns and sweet dahi.
Jigme Bhutia (The writer studied in Calcutta for five years. He now works as a content writer in Sector V, Salt Lake. )
