Soft Landing

April 1, 2010
Calcutta

I did not know what to expect upon landing in India. Some people I've met told me that everyone hates the first place they visit in the country. Others said to hold onto everything I own for dear life, so the street kids didn't lift it off of me. Or stay in the first city you visit for a week so you can get over being sick. Some said not to go at all. Everyone said it would be different from any place I'd ever been.

The Calcutta airport was small, old, and easy. There were no kids trying to pick pocket me (though i am prepared to do battle with them in Delhi), and I was through customs in a (relative) flash. I was greeted by my friend Stacy, who had flown in from New York the day before. She picked me up with Vishnu, our friends' driver. He would graciously cart us around town for the next couple of days. This is not at all what I was expecting, it was the exact opposite.

We got to Sam & Laura's place and an hour later the yoga teacher came to the house for a private lesson. Then it was off to the club for my new favorite drink, vodka and fresh coconut water. After that, we went to dinner at a Bengali restaurant,which is a cuisine that somehow has not made its way to New York (though I'm definitely investigating the corners of Jackson Heights when I get home). It was outstanding, some of the best food I've had during the whole trip. The meal consisted of banana flower, an ingredient that I don't think is used elsewhere, a savory jackfruit dish, fried fish, mustard sauced fish steamed in a banana leaf, homemade paneer, something resembling eggplant in a sesame sauce, fried bread, rice, and for dessert, custard-thick sweet yogurt. I'm still dreaming about it.

Getting introduced to Calcutta life with people who actually live here was wonderful, and I am extremely greatful to my friends for being such generous hosts. If I'd been dropped off on the backpacker lane in Calcutta alone, I would probably cry, then immetidately return to the airport. It is a congested, chaotic and in-your-face overwhelming place. The architecture is mostly old, sometimes gigantic buildings leftover from the British. Buildings that look like they could or should be condemned end up housing offices or art galleries or rooftop parties. Though technically illegal, is the only city in the world where foot-powered rickshaws still exist. Each street has an old name (like Calcutta), and a new name (like Kolkata), though only the new names are written on the maps and everybody knows the streets by their old names. The town is not overrun with tourists, so as far as touts and beggars are concerned, there is seemingly a mellow vibe that I had not expected. That is everyplace except the Kali Temple.

The Kalighat Kali Temple is a Hindu temple for the goddess Maa Kali. The city's name is said to have been derived from Kalighat (the temple is actually not on the ghat on the Hooghly but who's keeping tabs?). She's a pretty important goddess to Calcutta and the temple has a legend to match. It is located in a tiny maze of insanity; beggars, stalls selling flower garlands, spices, Kali tchkokes, ghee, goats for sacrifice, religious dudes offering to perform pujas for a very good price; "I take you to Kali," "Kali this way," "Madame, best way to Kali temple follow me," and so forth. All at the same time, all in a space of maybe 3 square feet, all trying to get your attention and money. If we did not have Vishnu with us, I would have turned around. He hooked it up -- found a guy who knew a guy who blessed us, watched our shoes, washed our hands, and led us barefoot across the burning midday ashphalt into the temple. Inside the temple was more insanity with pushing, shoving, screaming, blessing, money demanding, tikkas being placed on foreheads, flower garlands being handed to us then taken away. To see Kali (or rather to have her see you) one has to cross over an iron bar about shin height and through a doorway that's maybe a meter and a half wide. Inside the doorway is an open flame (didn't see that one until almost too late). Fill that space made for 3 with about 40 people all desperate for a glimpse, and you've got the picture. I hoisted myself up on a rope hanging from the ceiling to catch my breath since I had been literally lifted off the ground from the weight of the crowd. When some shirtless dude behind me decided to grab onto the same rope I lost my footing and came down (luckily feet on the ground and not in the fire) barefoot on the greasey, slimey, wet, filthy marble. I was pinned for a minute before we were able to leave, and I'm still not sure if the experience was exhiliriating or terrifying. Definitely a mixture of both, but I'm starting to side with the latter and questioning our decision to head to the Kumbh Mela in a couple of weeks (largest gathering of people anywhere).

After leaving the temple and following Vishnu to the sanctuary of the car, we were too overwhelmed to do anything else (such as visis Mother Theresa's place, which was in the neighborhood) but go back to the apartment and have another fantastic, home cooked bengali lunch with Sam. Besides, we had a party to prepare for.