The confluence

Well, there is still a lot of doubt inside me, that whether I should keep the name I have just given to this post or should I change it. When Jean Renoir came to Calcutta in its last days of glory during 1949-50 under the eminent shadow of a divided land, he shoots one of his most coveted films, Le Fleuve (The River). There is abundance of rivers in the entire world, even in India. There are so many great civilizations that thrives thousands of years around the great rivers. But the famous French director chose our very own Calcutta. I am not the right person to comment why, but I feel, the man and the river in this city, has a special connection, and those connections are physically representing in the Ghats alongside the river Ganga. Now you can imagine why I have put the word Confluence. Yes, the confluence of man and the river.

Gar Firdaus Bar-ru-e-Zamin Ast, Hamin Ast, Hamin Ast Hamin Ast

(Written in 2011)

It was about an hour before the dawn. At 1700 meters (5500 feet) above sea level, it’s quite cold, though in late May, compared to the summer heat of Indian plains. At this small village of Gaurikund, in Rudraprayag district of Uttaranchal, the day has already started. This is a narrow strip of land beside the river Mandakini. About 30 to 40 meters wide. At one side, the mountain standing like a wall, at another side of this channel, the river is roaring. It is hardly 25 meters wide here. At the other bank of the river, another mountain is standing. No other way to go. At one end of this narrow channel, the motor-able road has ended. No cars can go northward from here.

6 A.M.

India attunes herself to the clock at Allahabad. In December, somewhere in the western corner of the country, it is still pitch dark and somewhere towards the eastern front, it is already the middle of a sunny morning. Calcutta stays between these extremities At 6 A.M it is still the early morning at in the winding streets of the city. Similar to its geographical position, Calcutta is not at the far end of anything, rather it is on at the crossroad of countless matters. The city once embraces itself as the second most important place in an empire where sun never sets. The city, still known as the city of joy, colloquially. Calcutta can do justice to each one of these titles. However, it cannot agree to for one of its widespread misconceptions. There are multiple instances, when this city has been branded as “The Bengali City”, the home for the Bengalis. The city can never accept this perception. Calcutta is not, and never was a Bengali city.  It is geographically within the limits Bengal, the majority of its inhabitants are native Bengali speakers. Nevertheless, the city, never was a Bengali city. The true essence of Calcutta is in its cosmopolitan tradition and history.  Anybody who has the slightest doubt about this can rediscover the soul of the city by taking a walk around its down town area around 6 A.M.