Fifty Years Ago
It’s 1962. I arrive at Howrah from small-town Punjab at the ripe old age of fifteen. As a student-select headed to the Indian Statistical Institute, having side-stepped the IIT system which refuses to let me in till I reach sixteen, I feel a foot taller than my five feet few.
Emerging from the railway terminus, the first thing one sees is the Howrah Bridge. One word: majestic. The sprawling and muddy Hooghly underneath is a sharp contrast to the slim, gushing rivers of the Punjab.
The next thing one notices are the clichéd teeming crowds. Most of the men are dhoti-kurta clad: a sartorial effect I have seldom seen in Delhi or Bombay. The kurta is called punjabi; I never find out why. Women, and even teenage girls, are mostly clad in saris. No salwaar-kameez.
Beggars - rarely seen in the Punjab, occasionally in Delhi, and often in Bombay - abound here. Then comes the shock of the inhumane hand-pulled rickshaw; long banished from other states. One is familiar with the concept but the reality is something else. From time to time, the government avows piously to ban the rickshaw and rehabilitate the pullers. No progress so far.
Dr. B C Roy who was the chief minister for 14 years has just died. A towering figure in Bengal politics, his demise paves the way for the decline of the Congress, and the rise of the Communist party.
Though it will be 15 years before the CP(M) gets to power, Jyoti Basu, a relatively young lawyer, is getting noticed in trade union and industry circles. He will eventually become the chief minister, but be denied the opportunity to become the prime minister by his party.
Film is the cheapest and most accessible form of entertainment. In three languages. Hindi films, made in Bombay and Madras rule the roost. A unique-in-India feature of the old style movie theatres, mostly showing English films, is the in-house bar where one can enjoy a glass of beer (or something stronger) before, during or after the show.
Satyajit Ray has already made his mark in Bengal and internationally. His work though is little known elsewhere in India, except to art film clubs. In 1962 Ray makes his first film with Waheeda Rehman. Suddenly people outside Bengal take notice. Later, Bombay will happily absorb some Ray girls like Sharmila Tagore, Jaya Bhaduri and, less successfully, Aparna Dasgupta.
Many film makers are, or claim to be, influenced by Ray. Others, like Ritwick Ghatak and Mrinal Sen, make excellent films but no one receives the adulation that Ray commands. Many Bengali scientists, academicians and artists have phenomenal accomplishments to their credit and have acquired considerable fame but in bong consciousness Ray is the sole eminence of recent vintage who deserves to be right up there with Kobi Guru and Netaji. To this day. Fifty years on.
Kobi Guru is, was and will forever, be the colossus everyone pays cultural obeisance to. Be it poetry, music, theatre, stories or painting he has left a phenomenal legacy. Your average bong, I discover, is much more into music, poetry and theatre than the denizens of northern and western states. Each household harbours a budding poet, actor, musician or singer or all four.
Music shows and events are aplenty. A harmonium is a standard and low-cost piece of household furniture. Music teachers, poorly paid but highly regarded professionals, are as thick on the ground as tuition teachers elsewhere. Often an avenue of ready romance for their pupils.
There is a wide-spread theatre scene which can only be described as passionate and vibrant. Theatre, however, is an expensive pursuit and is in a state of perennial decline for want of patronage, for production and at the box office.
The sport of choice, and indeed passion, is football. Gully football is all pervasive rather than gully cricket. Almost everyone has a favourite club team. Often a personal preference clashes with that of a sibling or spouse; leading to unending, loud, sometimes ferocious and often hilarious arguments. Chuni Goswami becomes my hero and by transference Mohun Bagan is my team. Chuni leads India to her first and last Asia Cup football title. He plays in the Bengal Ranji Trophy team. He captains the Mohun Bagan hockey team. He will go on to act as the hero in a movie, Prothom Prem. India has never seen a sports person like this.
Durga Puja is a phenomenal festival. The whole city is transformed as its entire cultural ethos comes into play. Puja pandaals come up everywhere in public spaces; throwing an already chaotic traffic into a deeper mess. The goddess emerges gradually taking shape from clay. Many artists work day and night to mould, paint, be-robe and be-jewel her. Loads of food and sweets are made, bought, distributed and consumed. Much shopping for new clothes happens. Gifts are exchanged. Teenagers go a-hunting all over town looking for adventure and meetings with the opposite sex, both planned and per happenstance. Neighbourhood gangs of boys spring up to protect the local girls - nobody asks the girls if they want it. . and everyone has a good time.
Click here to go to Part 2
