pre-script note: For those of you who know me somewhat well (ok, who am I kidding, for those of you who have met me for like five minutes), you will not be surprised to learn that traveling alone through India is socially difficult for me. While I do have minor-interactions with English speaking persons throughout each day (the folks at Bishop's College are absolutely WONDERFUL in making me feel welcomed here), I retire to my lonesome room around 8 pm and have only my books and my journal to keep me company. Therefore, I am obsessively writing blog posts in my notebook as a way of externally processing this experience. Please forgive (or enjoy!) the occasional multi-post days. Sometimes it'll get a little bit crazy (like today's three posts). Cheers! ~B
I arrived in Kolkata (formerly known by the British as Calcutta) this morning. After an enchanting 6 am flight (see 'An Ode to Jet Airways' below), I exited the plane to an intense wall of heat and humidity. I have air conditioning for the next few nights, but after that, I'll be showering about four times a day! Speaking of showers, I am still unclear as to how exactly one showers easily without a big old American bathtub... This is why I don't camp. Here there is a faucet (sometimes a 'geyser' above-head) sticking out of the wall and a large bucket with a smaller measuring cup-like thing. The drain can be anywhere along the bathroom floor or wall, and that's pretty much it. Right, so the showers... hopefully they'll make sense to me by the time I leave.
West Bengal, or at least Kolkata, has a very different feel from Delhi. The former capital of British India, the city is overcrowded and indescribably impoverished. Still, it gives off a more manageable vibe than did Delhi; its character is charming, rather than overwhelming. Perhaps the differences between Delhi and Kolkata is similar to New York City vs. Boston or Philly. All the cars are older and more abused in Kolkata, but the colors are more vibrant. The taxis are bright yellow, creating a fiesta for the eyes against a backdrop of rainbowed saris hanging from windows along every building.
Everywhere I looked (on the bright yellow taxi-ride to Bishop's College, my place of residence for the next month and a half) men and children were stooped next to overflowing water geysers. They were brushing teeth, bathing, or perhaps simply enjoying the short-lived relief from the mid-morning heat. The streets are lined with fresh fruits, flowers, goats and the random city cow (enjoying every minute of their sacred status within the country). Even the dogs seem more like the lovable pets from home than the nightmarish animals of Delhi.
Of course the poverty is just-as (if not more) consuming in Kolkata. We drove along street after street of shack communities. Even the standing buildings are in such a state of disrepair that I cannot imagine that they were ever clean and new. Men sleep in the shade of their (foot-drawn) rickshaws. Adolescent boys take on back-breaking labor that grown men would find difficult to bear. I wonder to myself how it is that anyone can stand living such a life of 'sweat-street' labor, garbage-constructed shelters and overwhelming heat each day. There isn't even the luxury of escaping into a romance novel to ease the realities of life. But, even within the desperation, I watched little boys playing in the water, teenage girls gossiping on their way home from school, and aging men arguing the way only old friends do. Perhaps I'm idealizing the streets of Kolkata because I am so pleased to be away from Delhi, but I really did sense that the poor of this city seem more willing to smile despite their given lot.
p.s. Patti, as per your request, I will soon post a little piece on what brought me to India in the first place. As I am now in Kolkata (and near my library), I will be writing more about the Church of North India as my research can really begin to take form.
I arrived in Kolkata (formerly known by the British as Calcutta) this morning. After an enchanting 6 am flight (see 'An Ode to Jet Airways' below), I exited the plane to an intense wall of heat and humidity. I have air conditioning for the next few nights, but after that, I'll be showering about four times a day! Speaking of showers, I am still unclear as to how exactly one showers easily without a big old American bathtub... This is why I don't camp. Here there is a faucet (sometimes a 'geyser' above-head) sticking out of the wall and a large bucket with a smaller measuring cup-like thing. The drain can be anywhere along the bathroom floor or wall, and that's pretty much it. Right, so the showers... hopefully they'll make sense to me by the time I leave.
West Bengal, or at least Kolkata, has a very different feel from Delhi. The former capital of British India, the city is overcrowded and indescribably impoverished. Still, it gives off a more manageable vibe than did Delhi; its character is charming, rather than overwhelming. Perhaps the differences between Delhi and Kolkata is similar to New York City vs. Boston or Philly. All the cars are older and more abused in Kolkata, but the colors are more vibrant. The taxis are bright yellow, creating a fiesta for the eyes against a backdrop of rainbowed saris hanging from windows along every building.
Everywhere I looked (on the bright yellow taxi-ride to Bishop's College, my place of residence for the next month and a half) men and children were stooped next to overflowing water geysers. They were brushing teeth, bathing, or perhaps simply enjoying the short-lived relief from the mid-morning heat. The streets are lined with fresh fruits, flowers, goats and the random city cow (enjoying every minute of their sacred status within the country). Even the dogs seem more like the lovable pets from home than the nightmarish animals of Delhi.
Of course the poverty is just-as (if not more) consuming in Kolkata. We drove along street after street of shack communities. Even the standing buildings are in such a state of disrepair that I cannot imagine that they were ever clean and new. Men sleep in the shade of their (foot-drawn) rickshaws. Adolescent boys take on back-breaking labor that grown men would find difficult to bear. I wonder to myself how it is that anyone can stand living such a life of 'sweat-street' labor, garbage-constructed shelters and overwhelming heat each day. There isn't even the luxury of escaping into a romance novel to ease the realities of life. But, even within the desperation, I watched little boys playing in the water, teenage girls gossiping on their way home from school, and aging men arguing the way only old friends do. Perhaps I'm idealizing the streets of Kolkata because I am so pleased to be away from Delhi, but I really did sense that the poor of this city seem more willing to smile despite their given lot.
p.s. Patti, as per your request, I will soon post a little piece on what brought me to India in the first place. As I am now in Kolkata (and near my library), I will be writing more about the Church of North India as my research can really begin to take form.
2 comments:
I'm so happy for you!!!! I'm so glad you're in India. And I love these posts! Now I just need pictures, please.
(PS thanks for the color scheme change, much easier on the eyes)
Hi Bethany ~
I know we haven't talked in about 8 years (since I left B'ville), and I'm not sure if you remember me, but I came across your blog and have really enjoyed reading it :) I thought I might offer some advice on the shower situation in case you have yet to figure it out... Use the faucet to fill the big bucket with water, then dip the measuring cup thing in the bucket and pour that on yourself. Repeat until clean. Haha - I've spent about six summers in India with my grandparents, and there are things that still take getting used to, so I definitely understand. All the best!
~ Sanmati
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