Artisans and their Gods

Mornings are sunny. And it's humid all day. Rain is like a teardrop at the eye's corner, ready to fall at the slightest provocation. So, it rains all day. The roads become rivers. Cars wade through them. It rains on the half-made pandals. People scurry by. The completed idols are shifted and begin taking up their place, where they shall remain till celebrations end. They are covered in large plastic sheets. There is much furore as idols are moved and carried all the way through. Knee deep water is hardly a hindrance. What has to be done has to be done.

Rain seems like a part of the city, a character in the story that will unfold. An overseer, perhaps even an actor with a central role. It's so hard to describe the rains in Calcutta. There is much in it that lies beyond words. Bengalis are often accused of living mostly on a metaphysical plane. Whether the atmosphere here is the cause for it, or it's effect, or perhaps both can be something to ponder upon.

Our original plan was to visit Tagore's mansion; the remains of it mostly. But the old city had turned Venice-like, except that instead of neat canals, these were stretches of muddy water with all the dirt of the city floating upon them. So, we decided to move on and visited Kumartuli, where larger-than-life sized idols are being made. The Pujas begin in 3 days, so it was time for the finishing touches. Eyes being painted, hands, feet everything. It was a time for colours. One of them was even being dusted with gold paint. It was muddy and slippery. We had to negotiate our way through cans of paint and be careful at each step.

The craftsmen were busy doing their work, mostly in silence. I tried getting them to talk but felt that it might disturb them. They didn't mind the camera in their midst either. Not much of the great stares I was talking about either. I enjoyed shooting there. Had I been alone, I would have stayed a bit longer. When you are shooting, you lose sense of time completely. Awareness narrows down to only what is necessary. Much can happen in a slice of a second.

Our next destination was the Indian Coffee House on College street. We were unable to locate it due to much water I suppose. It has existed for almost 200 years. The Café culture in the city is old and much of it is owed to the colonial influence. There are couples sitting uttering sweet nothings to each other, groups involved in diverse debating, a bunch of elderly gentlemen gathered around to perhaps reminisce the past, serious debaters, some artistic-looking types with perfectly manicured beards and grey hair... The place has atmosphere. There is a gigantic Tagore photograph lining the wall. Then a few new and rather fascinating paintings too. Despite all the stereotypes, this is definitely a place to visit in Calcutta.

When we headed back home, we got off at the mall to pick up a few things. We were in for a surprise as there was a rock competition taking place. Some brilliant musicians, strong influences of metal which the city is known for, and overall some good music. I liked the way the bass and drums seemed to thump in my chest. The rain spared us for the evening. We drank coffee and listened to music as the day faded away.

Much Calcutta in a day. Much of what I was looking for.