Local Delicacies: West Bengal: Travelogue Part 5

I did say that the food in West Bengal deserves its own blog post and so here it is...

Perhaps nothing in this entire journey contradicted our expectations like the food. I must admit, we went in there having very wrong assumptions about what their food tastes like. And what we experienced truly left us in awe.

Right from the first cup of tea (the milk came from the cow in the shed behind the house), we knew we were in for a treat (literally). We ate lunch with other family members in the house in Debipur. They served us rice, followed by dal curry. There were many vegetable accompaniments, each one tastier than the last. But the one dish that stood out was the fish. Two large pieces per person was hardly enough. It's soft, white, juicy flesh was simply delicious.

The main course had us stuffed, and when they came to us with desert, how could we turn them away? Our mouths said yes while our stomachs pleaded no. Slowly we had the mango chutney they poured into our plate. It was the perfect combination of sweet and sour. Desert #2 was rice pudding with sugar balls. My mother attempted to say no, owing to lack of space in our tummies but they would have none of it. With the first taste of the pudding, we realized that we had just avoided a big mistake. It was truly scrumptious.

Dinner at the reception was a grand feast. A few snacks like pani puris and a dish of chicken were available before the main course. I tried to count the number of items that were served but, honestly, I lost count. Roti and rice items were accompanied by many vegetable and meat side dishes. Dessert included gulab jamuns and rasagullas, among others.

It was with these tastes lingering in our mouths that we boarded the train to Sikkim, the next part of our journey, where another adventure awaited us. 

Back in Debipur: Travelogue Part 4

Two hours in the cramped up train carriage that took us from Kolkata to Debipur was a fun and exciting journey, and the beautiful view of the fields outside was a good enough reason to not fall asleep in an awkward position.

The sun was beginning to set when we got off at Debipur station, although it was hardly after 5 pm. It was considerably easy to find our next mode of transport; or rather, they found us. In that little town, we stood out like a sore thumb.

A blue toto was waiting for us. These battery-powered three wheelers were a better alternative to auto-rickshaws, considering their efficiency, low cost and the fact that they are environment-friendly. All six of us (with our baggage, mind you) managed to squeeze in and not fall off, all throughout the bumpy and thrilling ride.

The toto came to a stop outside the house where the wedding reception was going to be, and while everyone else went in to get ready for the party, my dad and I headed out to do something before we missed the opportunity - explore the fields.

The sun was setting and it was getting dark. We walked through the mango garden and got to the other side. This time, we stepped down and walked into the fields. And there it was.

Paddy fields: up close and personal

I don't think a lot of people from my generation has seen paddy fields, at least not where I come from. It's a rare sight in Kerala these days; I doubt it even exists. I had to come all the way to West Bengal to see something that was an all too common sight in my parents' childhood.

By then, a man from the house and a couple of boys (from the neighborhood, I assume) joined us, and graciously showed us around the paddy fields, and the adjoining land, where they grew all sorts of fruits and vegetables.

It was getting dark, and the festivities were starting. We came out of the fields and our guide suggested that we take the long way back, just so we can see more of the village. We walked down the little streets, taking in the sights, sounds and smells I knew I would hate to leave behind. The air, unpolluted and unconstrained, the chatter of the chickens, dogs, goats and cows, and fields as far as the eye can see, into which the sun so untimely sunk; all of this carried breathtaking beauty.

It was night time, when we got back to the house. We had seen almost a dozen ponds on our little hike and the heat had made us seriously consider jumping in. And we would have, if we weren't late for a party. We could have stayed here for a week and still not have seen enough or done enough. That's what this village did to me. It showed me what I was missing, living in the city.

We came back to the house and I remembered, to my disappointment, that we would have to leave Debipur in a few hours. After a quick shower and dressing up, we went down to the party.

Later that night, we got into the car with our packed bags and headed for Barddaman Railway Station, but not before bidding adieu to our delightful hosts and all the wonderful people we met in Debipur. These people gave us a home miles away from our own. And we are eternally grateful. As the car pulled out, I made a silent promise -  I would do everything in my power to come back.

A Day in Kolkata: Travelogue Part 3

After lunch with the family in Debipur, our party of six got into a car and rode two hours to the city of Kolkata. Everything was different by day. The city was gorgeous.

Our first stop was The Victoria Memorial, an exquisite work of architecture, built dedicated to Queen Victoria. Unfortunately, we were unable to visit the museum, but we did take a walk around the building, through the lush, green park.

After a lot of walking and quite a few photographs, we were ready to leave. As we set off to our next destination, it was already dusk, and Kolkata was even more beautiful at night.

In this part of the city, there were numerous fly-overs; all of them decorated by the signature white-and-blue lights. It was quite a sight indeed. I only wish I had gotten better photographs.

Kolkata's famous New Market is a bustling street, and the entire day's tiredness left us at the prospect of a whole evening of shopping. We spend a good couple of hours there, strolling from shop to shop in that crowded street, stopping only occasionally to buy something. What's interesting about the shops here, is that any price is negotiable, and, given the right shop and with a neat set of bargaining skills (something I, regretfully, lack), the products are an absolute steal.

We had a light dinner at one of the small restaurants within the market. And when the shopping bags got too heavy and too many in number, we decided to call it a day and head to the hotel we had booked to spend the night.

Originally, we had planned to spend the night at the house in Debipur, but given the long journey between Debipur and Kolkata, we thought it would be better to just stay in the city and see the sights before going back for the wedding reception. Our hotel was a nice little place hidden between apartment buildings in the suburbs outside the city. There, we got air-conditioned rooms, hot showers and complimentary breakfast in bed. Sweet!

Day 2 (30-4-17 / Sunday)
Kolkata

We got up bright and early and stuffed ourselves heartily with hot puris and potato curry delivered right to our doors. Having checked out, we took a cab all the way to Mother House, the Headquarters of The Missionaries of Charity and the final resting place of St. Theresa Of Calcutta.

Sunday Mass was almost over when we got there. The chapel was where the tomb was. The room right next to it had been modified to be a museum, where many articles used by Mother Theresa were on display. We were also allowed a glimpse into her room. It was quite interesting, seeing how modest and humble everything about her was.

 

Another thing we noticed about Mother House was that there were hardly any donation boxes in sight, unlike in most churches and chapels where there is a box kept before every idol. The place was quiet and peaceful, always emanating a positive energy.

Stepping back outside into the busy streets on Kolkata, we got on one of those local yellow cabs in an attempt to find the last few trams that were still running. The cabbie dropped us off at a tram depot, which, on closer examination, revealed nothing more than a run-down place behind locked gates with a couple of old, out-of-service trams inside sheds. Well, we did see tram tracks and, technically, we saw trams (even though it was through the small crack between gates), so, thinking that's all we were going to get, we were about to leave when a local told us that the actual depot was on the other side, and any working tram would be coming out of there.

Not the kind of people to give up, we walked about half a kilometre in the blazing afternoon sun to find a tram. We got all the way to the next junction before calling it quits.

We were both hungry and exhausted. We were convinced that only one tram was still operating, considering the fact that we had not seen a single tram the whole time we were here, and this one tram could be anywhere in the city. Not really wanting to run after it, we got in the nearest air-conditioned restaurant and had a heavy and delicious lunch.

Our bellies full and heads now clear, we stepped out, planning our next move. We had to get back to Debipur in time for the reception and the sooner we got there, the better. We had to get to Howrah Railway Station, to take the train to the little town.

Not wanting to get into another hot and stuffy yellow cab, we called an Uber and waited for the car. Still in disappointment about not being able to board a tram, we stood there on the lookout for our cab.

Just then, we saw it, right before our eyes; a big, blue and white tram riding along on the other side of the road. We could only watch with open mouths at the missed opportunity, as our Uber pulled up before us, and the Tram-that-got-away swept out of sight. Damn. 

Howrah Railway Station was busy and bustling with people. We got our tickets and took the first train out to Debipur. And after a day in this big city, I was glad to be going back to the village.

A Bengali Wedding: Travelogue Part 2

And now, for the main event - The Great Bengali Wedding.

We didn't know what to expect when our hosts called us over and we followed them to the nearby mandir. Maybe they just wanted to show us around, we thought, as we admired the local temple. The language barrier meant they were unable to explain to us what this was all about, so we just stood around, having no clue as to what was going on.

The commotion started soon after. A car pulled up, the bride and the groom stepping out of it. They were dressed in the traditional wedding attire; elaborate silks, huge flower garlands and fancy headdresses. The tip of the groom's mundu and that of the bride's saree were still knotted together. The actual wedding ceremony took place the day before, but the festivities were far from over. The bride and groom were returning to the groom's house after spending the last two days at the bride's. As they walked to the temple, the band started playing. Only then were we informed that we were expected to dance.

Wait, what?

The slightest reluctance on our side was met with reproving looks. It was tradition, they explained; it was part of their rituals. As the ceremony went on before the idol, the women and children were dancing to the beat before them. We watched in amusement the sight before us, until they pulled us onto the dance floor.

And so we danced, quite pathetically, I might add, for it would have been rude not to. But I'll tell you one thing - it was a hell of a lot of fun!

Once it was all over at the temple, everyone headed back to the house. The ceremony continued inside, and we curiously watched from the front row. It lasted about 20 minutes. We thought it was all over when the bride and groom headed upstairs, but we were wrong. They asked us to follow them upstairs and we had a hunch that the surprises weren't over yet.

Upstairs, the bride and groom took their steps towards the bedroom, only to be met with a door bolted from the inside. As the groom's cousin soon explained to us in English (we would have been quite clueless about the ceremonies otherwise), the groom's sisters were inside and they refused to open the door and let the newlyweds in, unless they were paid money. Yet another tradition.

After a lot of laughs and quite a few negotiations, the groom gave them around 2000 rupees, by sliding the notes under the door. Only then did they open the door. Quite an interesting tradition.

Soon, they came back out and sat down on a straw mat on the floor in the upstairs hall, and proceeded to play certain games; all, thankfully, explained to us by the groom's cousin. The bride and groom played with small shells and uncooked rice, joined in by other members of the family. It was a noisy and exciting affair, with people cracking jokes every now and then. If only we could understand them...

And with that, the ceremonies were over for that day, and everyone went down for lunch.

The reception party was held at home the next day. The house was all set to receive guests. The bride's family and relatives arrived well into the night, and were received grandly with fireworks. This was some wedding!

It was an incredibly joyous atmosphere and I felt deeply humbled to have been a part of this. They accepted us outsiders as a part of their family. We were blessed to have been able to see a Bengali wedding up close and personal; as this was a cultural experience like no other. 

A little town called Debipur: Travelogue Part 1

Day 1 (29-4-17 / Saturday)
Kolkata/Debipur

Kolkata. The city evokes different images for different people. For me, it was not a pretty one. All that changed with this one trip.

I wasn't too keen on the visit; not at first. I had some false and damaging ideas about how the city might be. Plenty of movies had imprinted in me a very disturbing image of Kolkata.

As we stepped out of the air-conditioned airport into the hot, stifling night, I didn't know what to expect. I was in a big city, at night, miles from home. We didn't linger around much longer. What lay ahead was a two hour drive to our destination - a little town called Debipur just over 80 km north of Kolkata, where a family was putting us up for the two days we would be there. 

The roads were almost empty in the middle of the night; the huge trucks and lorries ruled the streets. Our little car scurried along amidst the giants in the middle of the night, and by 4 am, we arrived.

At first I thought it was a joke. We were in the middle of nowhere, amidst fields and forests, and we had left urban and suburban areas miles behind. We were in a very rural village when the driver stopped and said, "We have arrived." I prayed that this be a joke. It wasn't.

The old, creaking, wooden door opened and an elderly couple stepped out to welcome us. We greeted our hosts with a smile, although my mind hadn't recovered from the shock. This can't be where we're staying!

We stepped in though the narrow doorway into an open courtyard. If the house looked old outside, it looked practically ancient on the inside. It had cemented floors and wooden window panes. Plastic chairs and tabled were strewn all over the courtyard - the only indicator that this is where the wedding party was going to be. That's the real reason for our trip to Kolkata - my dad's colleague was getting married. And the groom's family were our hosts.

They lead us up a dark stairwell onto the second floor. There was someone sleeping in almost every room. We were given chairs to sit in the small bedroom, and our host went back down to get us some water. Only then did we drop our smiles.

We looked at each other in horror, feeling like we had made a huge mistake coming here. How are we ever going to stay here? This is a mistake, right? They don't expect us to actually...?

What was I expecting? Well... Oh, I don't know... Maybe a little luxury resort away from the crowds of the city; a nice couple of rooms with a beautiful view, air-conditioning and swimming pools. I soon realized what a spoilt brat I had become.

There's nothing wrong with this place, it soon became clear, as the sun rose. It just wasn't what we were expecting. We were a little shocked; that's all. At 5am, the sun was coming up. We went up to the terrace and was amazed by what lay around this house. It was a typical village with trees, huts, fields and ponds, and I couldn't wait to go exploring.

The beauty of the village was revealed to us only after sunrise, and I immediately resented any ill comments I made towards this place. We went down and had a look around. There were cows, goats, chickens and dogs around the house. The people were incredibly warm and welcoming, despite the language barrier. They mostly spoke Bengali and Hindi; very few people could speak or understand English. We only dabbled in Hindi, so communication was difficult. But we got by.

We met the whole family; aunts, uncles, cousins and kids, who were all here for the grand wedding. Our host took us to the smaller house right opposite this one, and only then did we know that this was where we were actually going to be staying. This house, though small, had a spacious upstairs bedroom with attached bathroom and a few large windows overlooking the street outside. From the balcony, we could see a pond and the fields beyond. It was beyond sufficient.

After a quick nap to rid ourselves of tiredness, we came down for breakfast. The food... oh, the food! The food in West Bengal deserves its own blog post [Coming soon].

This incredible little village and its people will always have a place in my heart. Its beauty was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. This rural village, untouched by the advances of the city, was peaceful and serene. And I would jump at an opportunity to go back.

This blog post is just a tip of the iceberg. There's many more to come, so stay tuned for more posts about our epic adventure in the north.

To be continued...