I actually prefer the colonial 'Calcutta' though it would be out of sync with the traditional Bengali pronunciation KOLKATA. In any case not till 1686 AD, neither Kolkata (as we know it) nor Calcutta (as it was known for over three centuries existed. The trading villages of Sutanuti, Kalikat and Gobindpur coalesced into and grew up to be the Kolkata that we know now. All credits to Job Charnock and the handsome 16000 rupees that the Company paid to zamindars to procure these villages.
Whatever be the legacies, I just love that city. I am yet to explore its labyrinthine gullies and innumerable historical, cultural, religious and modern locales, not that I am thoroughly unfamiliar. But the Hoogly and Calcutta hold a kind of aroma that is impossible for to resist. It is a crowded and extremely congested city; you will find sign of extreme poverty and even degeneration; after a spot of rain, it is impossible to commute on foot; conditions of sanitation in some localities may be repugnant not merely to delicate sensibilities but even hardened and impervious nostrils.
Say what you may, there is a sense familiarity and belonging that pervades my being the moment I arrive at Calcutta. Hundreds of years of devotion to the Mother that is part of Bengali being, touches my soul and stirs a streak of reverence. As I walk by the road or ride a local bus driven by a 'pilot' or get into a tram or merely sit in rickshaw, a strange capsule of time envelops me. The past and present, noble and ugly, culture and rusticity, domination and servitude, patriotism and rebellion, and host of such opposites seem to blend and create a pleasant cocktail inside the time capsule. Ah, I love Calcutta. Frankly, cannot describe why. Here therefore, let me present a glimpse of the city of my in-fatuous dreams:
I have not added any captions. I do not think any caption would ever actually describe Calcutta. It is a city that you cannot see or touch. You have to feel Calcutta!!
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