Flack is Back

I flew back to India via Kolkata based on the price of the flight.  250 euros to Delhi or 50 euros to Kolkata. Barjain.  I'd never been and I fancied seeing a bit of the east,  I shoudda remembered that classic Irish phrase 'da west is best'.  I'd heard, however, that Kolkata was all about 'the arts' so let's see what I found:

• Coconuts and Athletes foot
• I take the local lovers on a ride
• 'Danny Boy' Indian Style
• Barbie and Ken Missionary Style

I nearly didn't come back to India.  Thailand was such a blissful holiday, I'd met a great gang and was tempted to not leave.  Plus the fact that whilst I was away from India I'd read 'Mother India' by Katherine Mayo which had given me a dose of indophobia.  Something which was encouraged further this week by the sickening verdict that the Indian Supreme Court gave on the Gang Rape case from last December.   'Mother India' is a book I urge anyone visiting India to read (especially those who see India as a spiritual haven with all it's pretty hindu gods). The country is beautiful and full of very special people but nearly 100 years on since the book was published this week's verdict echos the fact that India still has major culture issues when it comes to women's empowerment. 

I encountered Indian culture before I even got on the plane.  This was the site at check in.

About 30 Indian men had bought c.5 massive LCD screens each and were pushing women, children and me out of the way to get to the front of the queue.   Ah, Indian queuing.  I've gotta get my sharp elbows back on form! The plane was similar. The flight left at 1am and the lights went out but all the Indian chaps carried on talking (shouting) at each other, burping, picking their noses and generally being a nuisance.  I might have been travelling for 20 hours but it was impossible to sleep, I spoke to a western neighbour who was landing in India for the first time and was in complete shock before they'd even got off the plane!

Before I knew it I was sat in the back of my favourite car in India.  The legendary Ambassador.  10 minutes into the taxi journey the beast of a car gave a big hiccup then stalled.  The driver spent 1/2 an hour banging the engine with his fist and cursing one of his many gods before giving up and calling a mate.

5 minutes later I switched taxi and was soon at my hotel.

Gypsy Guest House.  Appropriate.  After 24 hours of boats, planes, buses, and taxis I arrived at 4am and was shown a room that was smaller than Harry Potter's at The Dursleys.  I couldn't stand up or walk down the side of the bed let alone roll out my yoga mat.  24 hours earlier I'd said goodbye to a bungalow 30 seconds walk to clear blue sea.  Ouch.  

After a few hours sleep I didn't care I was BACK IN INDIA and the buzz was amazing. I knew I was back in India when within the first few hours I'd overdosed on coconuts, got an electric shock, had a few random people take photos of you on their mobile, joined in a game of street cricket and could feel the itch of a foot infection (note to self don't wear flip flops during monsoon).

I also got the cheapest shave and beard trim I've ever encoutered.  7RS (about 10cents) by this guy:

It reminded me why historically Indians are quite hairy.  Note in the photo how high his blade is.  Unless you carefully instruct them, the local barbers will happily shave your whole face (inc ears).  My hindi is shite so expect me to come home looking like this (not an uncommon site here).

I had hoped to catch up on some work in Kolkata but owing to the local internet cafe having PCs from the 1980s and a serious rodent problem that didn't happen for a few days.  So I chose instead to fill my days as a tourist.  In search for a bit of green in the busiest city I have been to in India I came across Millennium Park.  For 5RS (7 cents) you got access to a peaceful park by the river.  I felt unique there, not because I was the only westerner but because I was the only person not smooching in a couple.  It was quite sweet, seeing all this love which is never expressed out in the open normally.  The park also had old children's fairground rides, an odd mix of romance and rusty old rides suited to a horror film.  Here is one of the fairground attendants looking sharp:

All the rides were empty and I decided I wanted to try a few photos of a dragon train.  I paid my 10RS and was just about to start taking some shots when the whole park got up and walked across to join me on the ride.  Seems my pale skin had a bit of influence!

My hotel situation improved once I coughed up a few more rupees, however, as the place was so busy I had to change room every night and soon got used to Indian hotel culture of the staff just walking immediately after knocking.  Bless them, interrupting a sweaty Flack doing yoga in his underpants soon made them stop that.

I spent a lot of time wondering the streets, getting lost and just breathing in the city.  One of my fav photos was aptly captioned 'Reality TV' when I posted it on FB by Ms Burke of Galway.

This was sadly the reality of Kolkata.  Nowhere in India had I seen so many lines of people sleeping on the street and beggars persistently pulling on my trousers to get my attention.  Even in my hotel and restaurants the staff asked directly for a tip, no pause and smile after presenting change, just the strongly emphasised "Tip".

Here's a few of my fav photos from my stay:

The ever industrious Rickshaw driver

A dogs life

This was a street show put on by a family.  Quite entertaining from a distance .......

However, up close you could see that these kids should not have been made to do this..

One of the less confrontational beggars

I was invited to a theatre festival by a friend who lived in Kolkata.  It was monologue theatre performance at one of Kolkatas coolest nightspots, a bar called 'Tantra' on Park Street.  What are the odds of me ending up at a club called Tantra ;)  This was one of the strangest gigs I have ever been to; full of Kolkata's refined middle and upper class peops including a few bollywood stars.  Owing to the majority of the acts being in Bengali, my favourite part of the show was the break in which we were plied with amazing Indian cuisine.  The best paneer I have ever had, despite the designer suit elbows pushing infront of me.  The second half was quite a treat, an Indian singer who's voice was up there with Katie Melua but was singing songs as if on the end of Blackpool pier.  She ended with an encore of 'Danny Boy' which with an Indian accent which as a song about the sorrow of leaving a country made me want to .......leave the country.

The next day we headed to Kalighat temple.  Bengal's favourite hindu deity is the dark incarnation of Shiva's wife (Kali).  Kali is often represented in pictures with her four arms covered in blood standing on her husband Shiva.  At first glance, it appears odd that anyone would want to worship this tantric goddess but the real focus is on the destruction of evil to make way for good.  Her temples are outstanding:

Dakshineshwar Kali temple where we joined in the Bhajan :)

On the way back from Dakshinesh  I heard my name across a busy street.  I saw Mohasin Khan, one of the most famous Sitar players in the world walking across the road waving.  I'd met him whilst working at KSV in Karnataka.   In a country of +1.2bn people that was quite a surprise.  Here's a video of the Khan family in concert (Mohasin is bottom left):

Monsoon season was still in full swing in Kolkata.  The city has a reputation for major flooding and it was pretty bad whilst I was there but I cannot imagine what it's like for the people sleeping on the street.  The worst that happened to me was Athletes foot and continuous pocking in the eye by umbrellas owing to the fact that I was the tallest person on most pavements.

Monsoon time!

On my last day in Kolkata I ventured around the stunning Victoria memorial gardens. A little bit of bliss in the madness of the city and the monument is a stunning mixture of British and Mogul architecture with a statue of a rather tubby Queen Vic out the front.

I then went somewhere very special.  Mother Teresa's House.

When it comes to museums I hadn't been this moved emotionally since The Ghandi museum in Delhi.  Mother Teresa was a truly remarkable woman who made a serious impact on reducing poverty around the world.  Her tomb is there as is a museum and hundreds of little nuns running around still keeping the place running.  It's truly inspiring although part of her history is illustrated using Ken and Barbie dolls.  This is her telling her parents she was going to be a missionary (whilst dress as 'Barbie the fairy').

That night I was on a night train to Gaya to see the tree of enlightenment at Bodhgaya.  I love travelling on Indian trains and was excited to be back in the buzz of an Indian city railway station.  I was, however, taken aback by the treatment of the lower castes who were trying to get on to the general class on my train.  They were hit with a baton by a railway officer just for trying to get on a train without a ticket.  Bad form.  The train journey itself was a dream, despite the pneumatic drill which seemed to be stuck in the ventilation shaft all night I slept like a baby and the next morning woke up in Bihar where I hung out with a monk in a cave......coming soon :)