A Leisurely Sunday in Calcutta: Mass at St. Thomas' Catholic Church, Stroll Along Park Street, Last-Minute Shopping at New Market

 Calcutta

Sunday, August 28, 2022

A Leisurely Sunday in Calcutta: Mass at St. Thomas' Catholic Church, Stroll Along Park Street, Last-Minute Shopping at New Market

    I woke up, as usual, at the crack of dawn, in a comfortable bed at Hotel Elgin Fairlawn where I would spend my last night. After reading in bed, chatting on the phone to Llew and checking my email and Twitter time line, I checked mass timings at St. Thomas' Catholic Church which, by my estimation, was merely a 15-20 minute stroll from my hotel. The internet informed me that Mass in English was at 8.30 and 10.30 am.  Deciding to have a good breakfast before Mass (yes, I know, it's a bit sacriligious), I washed and showered and did most of my packing before going downstairs for breakfast.

Full English Breakfast (Kind of) at the Hotel Fairlawn:

    I enjoy nothing as much as I do an FEB (a Full English Breakfast) especially when I am on holiday or on the road. I remember the really good ones that the Fairlawn used to serve in the days of Violet Smith. Under new management now, you can still get a fairly decent one, but there are no pork products anymore. This means that you can order Chicken Salami and Chicken Sausage instead of bacon and pork sausages. Let me assure you that they simply do not (and cannot, I suppose) taste the same. Secondly, instead of getting a large platter with your eggs, salami, sausage, grilled mushrooms, grilled tomatoes and baked beans all crowded together, you get a plate with scrambled eggs, a hash brown and half a grilled tomato.  All the other 'accompaniments' that you order are brought separately to your table in little containers! Anyway, I was not one to scoff at such large portions and decided to plunge right in. I also ordered white toast with butter, a plate of mango (to end my meal) and a glass of watermelon juice to begin. I need not tell you that the next meal I ate was at 6.00 pm when I was on the aircraft headed back home to Bombay!

Mass at St. Thomas' Church:

    Breakfast done (yes, I did feel a tad over-stuffed), I began my walk to St. Thomas' Catholic Church for the 10.30 am Mass. I used the map app on my phone to get there along the seedy side streets behind my hotel--Sudder to Chowringhee Lane (the Number 36 as in the film simply does not exist, so do not go looking for it), to Kyd to Park Street. I crossed the road over at the corner of Fleury's and entered Middleton Row and could see the church at the end of the street. It was a real pleasure to take this walk on a Sunday when the traffic and the human movement were barely present. It was nothing like the chaos I have seen in the last couple of days. 

    And let me tell you that the non-touristy parts of Calcutta (which is 95% of the city) are just awful. It is dirty, crowded, dirty, poorly maintained, dirty, stinking, dirty, slimy, dirty. Okay, you get the idea.  Hutment structures line almost every street--even those in the heart of the city. And because people live in these makeshift dwellings, there are fires and cooking pots on every footpath, dirty cooking or dish water emptied into the running gutters, loads of stinking sewage everywhere. There are also a lot of public toilets and they smell disgusting. I think it would not be an exaggeration to say that most of Calcutta is like one big stinking slum. It is truly appalling, even for someone who now lives in Bombay. If I have been posting items on Twitter and here in my blog that have sung the praises of the beautiful colonial parts of Calcutta, it is only because those have (so far) remained untouched by the detritus of poverty-stricken human habitation. I can only wonder how long they will remain pristine.

    So, after sauntering along at leisure and appreciating the lack of human or vehicular activity, I arrived at St. Thomas' Church that probably dates from the mid-Victorian period. It is not as old or impressive as Calcutta's Anglican churches, but it has plenty to attract the visitor from huge statues of St. Thomas and St. Peter at the entrance of the church to a striking stained glass window behind the altar.  In a colony in which the majority of the rulers were Anglican, it is refreshing to come upon some marble mortuary monuments on the wall that remember colonial Catholics who died serving King and Country. I noticed that a couple of these folks had French last names, however--so they were probably French colonials living in the colony of Bengal. There are no pews in this church--instead each worshipper has an individual chair (in beautiful polished, black ebony) with a padded kneeler in front. 

    Mass began on the dot of 10.30am. Because I had arrived 20 minutes early, I had time to survey the church inside with its huge seated statue of Christ the King in heavy gilding. In fact, there is a lot of gilding in this church, which leads me to believe that it was newly painted. There was a nice choir at the side comprising of two Anglo-Indian teenagers--two of them sang and one of them (the young man) played the keyboard. I was struck by the diversity of the congregation: there were loads of Anglo-Indians of mixed racial descent from the surrounding neighborhood as this warren of little lanes was once the stronghold of the city's Anglo-Indians (most of them have emigrated to the West or to Australia or New Zealand and only small numbers now remain). There were loads of Bengali Catholics and dozens of Hill Country folk, easily distinguished by their Mongol features. They are probably migrants from the hill towns of Darjeeling and Kurseong where missionaries in colonial times did vigorous work and gained many conversions. The priest had a Bengali accent and was dark-skinned enough to lead me to believe that he was a native of the state.

    Mass was very absorbing indeed. The readings were wonderfully done (both lectors, a man and a woman, had Anglo-Indian accents), the homily was interesting (and short and sweet) and the choir and its hymns were just wonderful. After Mass, an announcement was made that a retreat would begin and we were all invited to attend. I had to leave, of course, but I did say Hello to the priest who stood outside meeting and greeting his parishioners. 

    I noticed that just next door to the church was a gate with a plaque that said 'Loreto College' on it. I wondered if this was the same Loreto College that was supposed to be the finest college for girls in Calcutta, at least girls of my generation. I took pictures of it and sent them to my friend Laureen who lives in Connecticut and who, I remember, had graduated from Loreto. She came back confirming that this was indeed her college and that St. Thomas' was the church in which college students, like herself, heard Mass. 

    Down the quiet side lane I walked until I reached the busy bits of Park Street. I entered Fleury's just to take in the Sunday morning brunchy atmosphere of the place. I was much too full to order anything and so a quick look later, I was out again. Other places into which I stepped were Trinca's, the restaurant in which so many great names associated with the golden age of Indian jazz (Pam Crane, Louis Banks) once performed, but it is also where Usha Sammi (later Usha Iyer and then Usha Uthup) got her start. There are pictures of these singing stars all over the walls of the restaurant. Finally, I ended my browsing of Park Street with a peek into the large Oxford Bookstore as I have never met a bookstore I did not like.

Last-Minute Shopping at New Market:

    I had been thinking for the past couple of days that I should have bought more than just the Bandel cheese from J. Johnson when I was at New Market, two days ago. Indeed, I had a list and when I reached the Market, I headed straight to J. Johnson from which I bought twists of barley sugar, mango cheese, guava cheese and Kasundi (mustard) sauce. I also stopped at Nahoum's bakery for chocolate fudge and vanilla fudge and with these goodies really heavy in my hands, I walked straight back to my hotel. New Market also was much more pleasant a place to be on a Sunday morning and I was delighted with the overall old-world ambience of it all.

A Long Nap in my Hotel:

    Laden with my packages and smarting with the heat and humidity, I decided to have a lie-down in my cool, air-conditioned room after I had packed my last-minute buys into my case. But, I guess the heat and the gadding about of the past four days had taken their toll. What I expected to be a 15 minute nap turned out to a solid 90 minute one! When I awoke, it was almost 2.00 pm--just enough time for me to pack up all my things, ask the Reception for my bill and call my Uber to get to the airport. I hoped to be at Dum Dum airport at 3.30 pm for my 5.30 pm flight as I did need to check in a bag on this segment of my travels. 

Journey to the Airport:

    My Uber did arrive about fifteen minutes later, after I had settled my bill, and bid goodbye to a hotel that I really and truly love. The water logging of the previous afternoon had disappeared completely and you would be hard pressed to believe that there had been knee-deep flash floods in the city only yesterday. It is always a pleasure to try to get anywhere on a Sunday and my cab ate up the miles without any traffic hitches. In fact, the city looked much more appealing in the less chaotic atmosphere on a quiet Sunday afternoon when most Bengalis were getting in their Sunday siestas. 

    I arrived at the airport with no problems at all and easily found my Vistara Airlines check-in counter. I was, in fact, one of the first passengers to check-in (web check-in before all domestic Indian flights now seems to be mandatory) and I had loads of time to browse in the shops at the airport. It is a very lovely airport indeed and there are lots of interesting wares should one be inclined to buy (which I was not). My flight was announced with a slight delay of 15 minutes, boarding was swift and well-organized and Vistara actually served a meal on board (a chicken roll, a small serving of pasta in tomato sauce and chocolate ice-cream for dessert).  I was absolutely delighted to get some splendid pictures from the aircraft as we left the city and climbed higher into the skies. Despite the fact that it was twilight and light was fast fading, I got superb pictures of the Maidan, of Eden Garden cricket stadium, of the Victoria Memorial set in its green grounds and of the Hoogly River with the Vidyasagar Dam spanning its two banks. I was simply thrilled. 

    We touched down in Bombay, twenty minutes ahead of schedule at 8.10 pm, which left me enough time to pick up my case from the conveyor belt and find out how to get to the auto rickshaw stand that would then get me home. It was 9.30 pm when I reached home, 10.30 pm by the time I finished unpacking and eating my dinner (soup and a sandwich that I hastily prepared at home) and after a long call to Chriselle and another to Llew, I called it a night.

    What a delightful and deeply adventurous four days I'd had in Calcutta. But how pleased I was to return to the home comforts of my own bed and bathroom!

    Thank you for following me on this armchair journey. Until the road rises up to meet me again, I bid you farewell.                    

Re-Visiting Calcutta's Highlights: Motherhouse of Mother Teresa, St. John's Church Complex, Jorasanko Thakurbari (Rabindranath Tagore's House and Museum)

Re-Visiting Calcutta’s Highlights: Motherhouse of Mother Teresa, St. John’s Church Complex, Jorasanko Thakurbari (Rabindranath Tagore’s House and Museum).

Calcutta

August 27, 2022

 

Breakfast in Hotel Fairlawn:

            I woke up in Hotel Fairlawn to the realization that it was our wedding anniversary and that, sadly, Llew and I were so far away from each other. It would be late in the day when we would actually chat with each other and send each other wishes for many more happy years to come. 

One of the great pleasures for me of waking up in a place away from home is the certain knowledge that I have a delightful breakfast to which to look forward. With the Anglo-Indian conference behind me and the bulk of my professional responsibilities over, I could focus on enjoying the next two days in Calcutta. 

            But then I awoke and had another irritating issue to deal with—there was no hot water in my room again for the second day. Of course, I was not going to take a cold shower two days running and so I called the Reception and told them to change my room immediately. This was arranged instantly and I was made to rearrange my stuff and my schedule to accommodate this unforeseen hitch. 

            My friend Prof. Sudarshana Sen, a sociologist who works in Malda, an eight-hour train journey from Calcutta, had caught the night train and we’d made plans to meet right after I was done with breakfast. Accordingly, I was to see her in the hotel lobby at 9.15 am. But, needless to say, I ended up running late as changing rooms and them taking a shower totally pushed my schedule behind.

            When I did get down to breakfast, I sat right under a fan in the restaurant (rather than in the open-air atrium) as it is very warm out of an air-conditioned space. I ordered a tall glass of watermelon juice, a plate of fresh mango, a Mushroom and Cheese Omelet and insisted, this time, on finding both of them inside. This came with a hash brown and a grilled tomato. While I was in the middle of my breakfast, Sudarshana arrived and I ordered a cappuccino for her so that she had some refreshment while I continued with my breakfast as she had already eaten. About a half hour later, we were ready to leave and called an Uber so that we could get to the first place on my list. 

 

Visiting the Motherhouse of St. Teresa of Calcutta:

            I have visited the headquarters of Mother Teresa’s order in Calcutta but it was long ago and not after she passed away. Hence, on this visit, I was keen to see her grave site and tomb (Samadhi in Hindi). Sudarshana and I took an Uber there and reached in about 20 minutes. The entrance is very modest indeed as are the rest of the premises. You enter through a side door that simply says ‘Mother House’ and has a photograph of the saint. When we were there, there were just a handful of visitors—probably far greater hordes arrive in winter when the weather is much nicer. Mass (or a prayer service) was about to begin and an assembly of people were seated on the pews facing a small shrine. 

            On the other side of the room, the tomb stone is clearly demarcated. It is a very plain stone—just a slab of white marble on a raised platform. The tombstone contains her name Mother Teresa, M.C. (Missionaries of Charity). Her dates are also engraved (1910-1997) and below it reads: “Our dearly beloved mother foundress of the Missionaries of Charity”. And that’s it. There is a garland of marigold, a wooden rosary, two vases with artificial flowers and a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary propped up on the tombstone. Simplicity personified. Visitors recite a few prayers at the site and there are benches on which you can sit if you fancy a longer visit. The tombstone is surrounded by quotations from the saint and a number of paintings depicting her work among the Lord’s poorest.

 

Mother Teresa’s Museum:

            Next door, visitors make their way to a very modest and tiny museum that is crammed with all sorts of memorabilia from her life. Photography is not permitted and in the one large room, partitioned into two spaces, there were a number of novices who were clad in the white sari that lacks the distinctive three blue stripes that become part of the order’s habit upon graduation.

            And what did the museum contain? Well, a lot of her own personal possessions—her sandals, her handbag, her cardigan, the aluminum bucket with which she showered, her plate, fork, spoon, knife, mug, glass, a single clothes-pin. Most significant is her Nobel Prize citation as well as the large number of international awards she received. There are lots of pictures on the wall featuring Mother with various dignitaries, heads of state, politicians, not to mention with members of her own order. Many paintings that depict her work are also on the walls as well as sculptured busts. There are stamps and first day covers from various countries that depict her image. It is really a wonderful receptacle of treasures from her life and I found all of it quite fascinating. We spent more than half an hour there before we went to the next show-piece in the space: a peep into Mother Teresa’s room.

 

A Peep into Mother Teresa’s Room:   

            As might be expected, Mother Teresa’s room in the Motherhouse is spartan. You climb a flight of stairs and then peep into a room that is literally gated and locked. Inside, there is a simple bed which looked rather small (probably to fit her small frame), a table and a bench (there is a picture on the wall of Pope John Paul II seated with her at that same table), a small wooden cupboard and a crucifix on the wall. And that is it. Also, the room is tiny—which makes me wonder what the rooms of the rest of the order are like—they ran along long corridors that were sparkling clean and very well maintained.

            Outside, as we were leaving the main complex, we saw a bronze sculpture of the saint with a garland of white flowers in her hand. Of course, this has become a place of pilgrimage of sorts for all the faithful who are now turning to her in prayer since she has become a saint. I find it interesting that so many people I know actually had personal contact with her during her own lifetime. They were either blessed by her or had spoken to her and tell the tale quite proudly. I find it fascinating that all these people actually have had first-hand contact with a saint. 

 

Off to the Church of St. John:

      I told Sudarshana that the next items on my agenda was a visit to the Church of St. John; but she misunderstood me and thought I wanted to go to the Church of St. James which was across the road. We visited it, of course, as it was antiquated both inside and out and dates from the mid-1800s. But as this was not the church I wished to see, we did not stay long. 

            We called for another Uber and ten minutes later, were whisked off to the huge complex that comprises the premises of St. John’s Church which is the oldest Anglican Church in Calcutta. I was amazed at how beautiful this part of Calcutta is—quiet, orderly, clean, empty of human beings. I suppose, by contrast, you will understand what my impressions of the rest of Calcutta are (but that’s a story for another day). 

            Suffice to say that you walk into a vast property, pay Rs. 10 for a ticket to roam the premises and are struck immediately by the striking white church with its brown brick spire that contains a huge clock. For the next hour, Sudarshana and I lost ourselves in this magnificent space. I did have my notes with me (from Lonely Planet) and they were the guide that saw us through the various parts of the church—both inside and out. We walked into the church and, at the covered porch itself, I was struck by the stone plaque proclaiming that Warren Hastings, first Governor-General of India, laid the fountain stone in 1784 when the church first opened to the public on land donated to the East India Company by Maharaja Nawab Kishen Bahadur.

            Inside, like St. Thomas’ Cathedral in Bombay, there are innumerable mortuary marble plaques on the wall that follow you as you walk down the main aisle to the front of the church where mosaic panels adorn the area behind the altar as well as the altar itself. We spent a while in prayer and then read our notes to ensure we did not miss anything of significance. So many of the items that drew our attention in the church added to our sense of awe and reverence for Indo-British history. Here are some of them:

 

--Plaque that denotes commemoration for James Pattle, great great grandfather of the historian William Dalrymple

--Plaque that denotes commemoration for James Achilles Kirkpatrick, Resident of Hyderabad, who married Khair-u-Nissa, a Moghul princess. Their love story was the subject of Dalrymple’s book, White Moghuls

--All manner of commemorative plaques with a striking one produced after World War I in Art Deco style to remember a fallen soldier in a side chapel.

--Beautiful stained glass window panels in a side chapel.

--The most striking element in this church is a painting of The Last Supper by Johann Zoffany who was inspired by Leonardo’s masterpiece in Milan. He used contemporary British colonials as his models and he filled the canvas with Indian motifs such as the goatskin water bag which is very prominent in the foreground. The painting dominates one side of the church. It is gigantic. It was done in the 1780s and restored in 2010 and looks brand new.

--Records of every Chaplain that has ever served the Anglican Church in Calcutta starting from 1677 to the present day.  Nobody was as good as the British when it came to record-keeping all over their empire. 

 

Visiting the First Office of the East India Company:

            We thought we were done with the interior of this impressive church with all its abundant memorabilia when one of the helpers in the church opened up a small door leading to a sort of secret room in the front vestibule of the church and announced to us that it was the very first office of the East India Company in Calcutta. I was simply stunned. Inside, we found a small space that would have looked the same in the late 1700s. There is a gorgeous ebony round table in the center surrounded by beautiful ebony carved chairs, each of which is in a different pattern and design. On the walls are dozens of photos, prints, drawings, water colors and charcoal drawings, including a framed specimen of Warren Hastings’ signature and a self-portrait of Zoffany whose amazing painting is in the church. In addition, there are safes, clocks, knife boxes and all sorts of ephemera that take us back to a bygone era with such an immediacy that it was a bit scary. I loved being in this space and since photographs were allowed inside, I took some.

 

Outside the Church of St. John:

            If the inside of the Church of St. John is so marvelous, you will be stunned with how much interest the outside holds. There are a number of mausoleums that memorialize prominent colonials who made their mark on Calcutta in the early days of the British Raj (while it was still the East India Company administering the city rather than the British crown). The most important of these is the mausoleum of Job Charnock who is considered the Founder of Calcutta. His structure is designed in Moorish style in grey and white and is set slightly away from the church itself although it is well within the compound. Right next to it, is another structure that remembers a British lady called Frances Johnson who married five times and survived four husbands with whom she had several children. There is also a superb memorial monument to the notorious incident of the Black Hole of Calcutta in which several British and Anglo-Indian soldiers lost their lives at the hand of Nawab Sirah-u-Daulah. The incident sparked off the infamous Battle of Plassey in 1757. Many names of British worthies are mentioned and it is with a kind of reverence that one reads them all.  I was quite excited to see the gravestone of Lord Brabourne, Governor of Bombay and for a while Acting Viceroy. The famous Brabourne Cricket Stadium in Bombay is named after him. In the back porch of the church, there is a beautiful monument to Lady Canning, French wife of India's first Viceroy, Lord Canning. It is amazing how superbly these bits of Indo-British history have been preserved (and how few people know about them or come to see them).  

            And so, we paused at each of these monuments under the blazing heat of the sun and almost 100% humidity that made it feel much hotter than the 82 degrees it was supposed to be. Poor Sudarshana was wrung out by our exertions and does not seem to have the staying power and endurance I have. Furthermore, she had traveled on a train all night and probably did not get too much sleep. When I saw how tired she looked, I suggested she return to her parents’ home and relax and that perhaps we could meet at dinner later that evening. She liked the idea and straight away made a reservation at a famous restaurant in Calcutta called 6 Ballygunge Place that is reputed for its typical Bangla food. We decided we would re-connect at 7.30 pm and indeed that was how we parted. We stopped for a cold Sprite at a small bakery because we both badly needed to rehydrate with long cold drinks and then she and I called for individual Ubers and were on our separate ways. I was headed to the next item on my agenda—a visit to the home of Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore.

 

Visiting Jorasanko Thakurbari (Home and Museum of Rabindranath Tagore):

            Lonely Planet lists this venue as one of the highlights of Calcutta and as I had never really visited it before, I decided to do so this time. I say really because I have actually visited it once before—on a previous visit to Calcutta—during a literary festival, my friend Mita had taken me to see a performance of Indian dance on the ‘stage’ in this grand sprawling mansion. But it was dark and followed a very long day on my feet. I was very tired then and certainly did not have the energy to explore it—which was not even possible on that occasion.

            This time, I covered it minutely. Again, there was a Rs. 10 entrance fee and believe me, one would be hard pressed to spend a tenner more efficiently. The place is in a tucked-away enclave in a corner of a really busy road called Rabindra Sarani (named, of course, for the poet). It is a sprawling mansion of 35,000 meters’ area on two floors, surrounded by vast green lawns. A small sculpture of Tagore is in the front lawns, but this is the only area where you can take pictures. Photography is strictly prohibited inside and the guards are quite vicious about the policy. 

            And what a place this is! I guess I did not know what to expect when I came here and I was quite overwhelmed by the immensity of it all. This house was built by the poet’s father, Debendranath Tagore, who made a fortune in coal mining commissions by setting up a firm with British collaboration called Corr, Tagore and Co. Of course, I had no idea Tagore came from so much money but indeed it was this resource that helped him travel around the world (almost an impossibility in those days) and reach such diverse audiences. As the visitor goes from room to room, you come across the ‘maternity room’ in which he was born and the room in which he breathed his last in 1941 on the bed that is also in the room. From detailed curatorial notes, the viewer learns that Tagore was very ill in the last year of his life and repeatedly suffered renal (kidney) disease which, ultimately, killed him. You also learn that by the time of his death, he was an iconic figure and probably Bengal’s most beloved son. Thousands of people crowded his mansion as news of his death spread. 

            In addition to this, there are rooms filled with photographs, paintings, his poetry, plays, short stories, novels, etc. Tagore’s long association with four countries (Japan, China, the USA and Hungary) are documented in four different sections or galleries that contain a vast amount of memorabilia from his visits to these nations and his contact with intellectuals from these institutions. So engrossed and so tired was I by the content of this material in this museum that I was just barely conscious of the fact that it had started pouring outside. I thought this was a very welcome occurrence as it had been blisteringly hot and I felt sure the temperature would cool down considerably with the rain. What I did not realize was that the rain was torrential and continued for at least two hours!

            

Caught in the Worst Flash Floods Imaginable:

            The end result was that by the time I was ready to leave the museum about two and half hours later, water had accumulated in almost the entire city of Calcutta! Right outside the museum gate, there was about two inches of water and I literally had to take off my sandals and wade through it to reach the watchman’s cabin where, as I had to call for an Uber, I was made very comfortable by the watchman. 

When I called for an Uber, I was told the closest one would take 25 minutes to reach me. I began to feel really nervous about getting back to my hotel, but the most astonishing part of all was how easily the rest of the Calcuttans seemed to take the floods in their stride—as if this were a regular occurrence and not at all something about which to be perturbed!

            Eventually, when my Uber came, a good 45 minutes later, my poor driver literally had to drive me through hell and high water to get me back to my hotel. A short journey of 4 kilometers (2 miles) took more than an hour. At times, we inched through areas where the floods were at least knee high. I do not understand by what miracle I was able to reach my destination and I can only put it down to the calmness and patience of my driver who used every bit of driving skill to get me there. 

            By the time I reached my hotel, I was so shaken by the unexpectedness of the entire experience that all thoughts of going out again for dinner were wiped off my mind. In the safety of my room, where I simply threw myself on my bed to recover from the experience, I texted Sudarshana and told her to cancel our reservation. She had been texting me to find out if I had reached my hotel safely and, quite understandably, was of the same mind when I suggested we cancel. So, in the end, I did not get a chance to try out the cuisine at 6 Ballygunge Place. But this was a small price to pay for staying safe, dry and warm in the sanctuary of my hotel room.

  

Dinner at my Hotel:

            Not surprisingly, when I went down to the restaurant in the hotel, I decided to have a mango lassi, a bowl of hot and sour soup which was served with a slice of garlic bread and a salad that was advertised on the menu as being a Greek Salad with goat cheese and caramelized walnuts. As it turned out, the lassi was warm, the hot and sour soup was the hottest and sourest soup I have ever tasted and the salad turned out to have feta, not goat cheese, in it. The walnuts were non-existent—what I did get were crunchy bits of sweet praline that did not go well at all with the savory nature of the feta and created a very jarring mouth feel. I ordered a tiramisu (which was on the menu) for dessert, but was informed that it was not available! 

            It was when I was leaving that I ran into Nimmi and Diamond Oberoi, the couple that run the hotel. They belong to the famous family of the Oberois, the scion (now deceased) who had pioneered the five-star hotel culture in India (M.S. Oberoi). They invited me to sit with them and we chatted for quite a long while as I recounted for them the ups and downs of my day—from scintillating lessons in  spirituality and poetry that I picked up from Mother Teresa and Tagore (both Poet Laureates and both from Calcutta) and the history that so enthralled me at St. John’s Church to the horror of the flash floods. I took a picture with them when I realized that in the good old days I had taken a picture with Violet Smith and her English daughter, Jennifer (former owners of the hotel). We exchanged phone numbers and I adjourned to my room where I received a call from Tony, a friend in Canada, who was calling to wish me for my wedding anniversary. We had a long chat and then I dialed Llew to finally wish him  after such an adventurous day. (He was en route to New Jersey for a big party at our friends’ The Rajans’ place). Just a little later, I called it a night.

            Until tomorrow…  

In Calcutta--A Day Devoted to Academic Commitments

 Friday, August 26, 2022

A Day Devoted to Academic Commitments

Calcutta

I have to say that I did not sleep too badly. My bed in hotel Elgin Fairlawn was expectedly comfortable and I did get my six and a half hours of nightly zzzs. When I awoke and tried to take a shower, however, I ran into a major issue.  There was no hot water in my bathroom! I had already made plans to meet my colleague Robyn and her husband Keith in the hotel dining hall at 9.30 am—this left me with little time then to consider a change of room as I had spent at least an hour reading in bed before considering a shower.

So, if you can believe it, despite calling the Reception and despite having someone come up to take a look at the hot water situation in my room, I ended up taking a cold shower! Luckily, it is quite warm in Calcutta at this time of year—so it wasn’t as brutal as it sounds. Thoroughly awake at the end of my shower, I got dressed and made my way downstairs for breakfast. I had used the coffee and tea making facilities in my room so enjoyed a wake-up coffee but I was certainly ready for the big breakfasts that I know this hotel is superbly reputed to do.

Breakfast at Hotel Fairlawn:

In the past, when the late Violet Smith used to own and run this hotel, it offered a Full English breakfast and complimentary Afternoon Tea and biscuits—Violet used to be married to an Englishman named Ted and she learned the more civilized ways of the English from him! Sadly, with the takeover of the hotel, there are some changes (not all bad, by any means, but the little English ways that always appealed to the Anglophile in me, are no longer in evidence). Still, they have a lovely breakfast menu and I have to say that I enjoyed the most magnificent ones for the three nights I spent here. 

Juice was available and I chose a watermelon juice which came in a small juice glass. I learned immediately to request a larger glass and, on the following mornings, my wishes were most graciously granted! I started off with muesli and requested honey and yogurt with it.  These were delivered separately to my seat in small containers and I was given a really large portion of it. I think they expected that to be the extent of my breakfast! But, of course, I had other ideas—and I then ordered my hot breakfast. I asked for a mushroom and cheese omelette and tackled my muesli as I awaited its appearance. By this time, Robyn and Keith joined my table and when Robyn told me that the fresh mango was wonderful, I ordered a serving of it to round off my meal. I was delighted that mangoes are still available in Calcutta. The season has definitely past in Bombay—so this is probably the last mangoes I will eat for the year. 

When my omelette arrived, I was disappointed to find that it was only a cheese omelette—there was not a single mushroom in sight (much to my disappointment)—but the omelet was fluffy and hot and superbly done and I did not see any need to beef about it! It was served with half a grilled tomato and a hash brown. I declined the offer of toast but I have to say that I really did enjoy my mango—it really was excellent!

Off to the University of Calcutta for the Anglo-Indian Studies Conference:

About a half hour later, we were joined in the lobby by our friend, Fr. Brent Otto, who is a Jesuit priest and also an up-and-coming scholar of Anglo-Indian Studies. He is currently finishing his PhD at Berkeley and is in India on an 11-month grant that has allowed him to carry out a great deal of work on the Anglo-Indians of South India by examining the archives in the National Library in Calcutta. He is also one of the editors of the International Journal of Anglo-Indian Studies and, as I have worked closely with him over the years, it was very good to see him again. Our reunion continued in the Uber that he hired to take the four of us to the venue—the University of Calcutta campus on College Street which took us through the congested center of Dharamtala past all manner of public transport for which Calcutta is famed including trams, crammed buses, rickshaw pullers and cycle-rickshaws. When we arrived at the campus, we made our way to the Ashutosh Building and I was simply delighted to find that the campus looked absolutely spiffy after its major rehauling of a few years ago. When last I was on this campus, four years ago, for the Anglo-Indian conference, the entire place was under renovation and was a complete mess.

A Day of Wonderful Academic Exchanges:

We found the classroom that was allocated to the conference and, mercifully, it was air-conditioned—such a pleasure and a relief when you consider how hot and humid it is outside. All credit to Prof. Selwyn Jusserl, an Anglo-Indian who is a professor of Linguistics and a good friend of Robyn. He also provides us with the space, the audio-visual facilities, the services of his eager and willing post-graduate students who are delighted to sit in and listen to our papers and for the modest tea, coffee, biscuits and lunch services that he arranges. We owe him a huge debt of gratitude.

The conference began with Selwyn making a few Welcome remarks and then Robyn introducing the concept behind these bi-yearly conferences.  Keith, her husband, was the first speaker of the morning and although his paper was casual and non-academic, he raised some interesting points.

My paper followed with the accompanying PowerPoint and as each of us was given only 15 minutes, I had to rush through it. I ended up leaving out one of the sections of my paper, but the three sections that I did cover were received well.  There were some interesting comments and questions that followed it and most listeners were completely struck by the material I managed to unearth through my research that had been carried out in the India Office Records in the British Library in London, a few years ago. 

And so the rest of the conference continued in this vein, with every speaker attracting the interest and attention of the participants and adding their comments at the very end. We had a tea break with delicious herb biscuits in-between and a boxed lunch served at our desks that allowed us to interact with the students who came up to talk to us. 

The afternoon session was equally interesting with a coffee break relieving us of the monotony of listening closely. I was especially struck by two presentations: one by Brian Gomes who is carrying out ethnographic work among elderly Anglo-Indians in Calcutta (he is familiar with my work and has based a lot of his work on my findings, he said) and Lyndon James who is working among Anglo-Indians in Orissa—the few of them that are left in the area that was once a military hub outside of Bhubaneshwar. 

Overall, I have to say that I found the entire conference extremely absorbing and felt delighted that after such a long time, I was able to sink my teeth into an academic gathering in person where we actually had a chance to interact with the presenters.

Presentations of Books to the Derozio Collection:

After the conference ended at 5.0 pm, we made our way to the building next-door to the library on the fifth floor. This is where the Derozio Collection of Anglo-Indian books, once owned and then donated to the library by my friend, Blair Williams of New Jersey, are housed.  Blair donated 167 books to the library about five years ago. He has appealed to scholars of Anglo-Indian Studies to donate a copy of each of their books to the collection so that it may grow and remain up-to-date. Four years ago, many of the students I had met at a similar conference had told me that they badly needed to get their hands on my book on Britain’s Anglo-Indians for their own work, but could not afford to buy it and that the library cannot afford to purchase it either. I had already decided to carry a copy of my book and gift it to the library on my next visit to Calcutta—so I was delighted when Robyn emailed me and asked if I would consider donating a copy of my book to the collection. I told her that Great Minds Think Alike—as indeed that was what I had intended to do. 

The ‘ceremony’, if you could call it that, at the library was brief. My friend Deebojoy Chanda who is editing an anthology of essays on Anglo-Indians in Literature (to which he had invited me to contribute a chapter), insisted that the library gives each of the contributors a written Acknowledgement and indeed that was what the slow-paced bureaucrats at the library set out to do. Meanwhile, the lot of us spent time inspecting Blair’s books and I was thrilled to see an essay that I had forgotten I had even written in one of the books that Blair has brought out. Anyway, we had a lovely time clicking pictures as the books were handed over and eventually I did receive a written Acknowledgment of my donation. My friend Blair will be happy to note that his collection is being updated although there is no signage at the library to name it the Derozio Collection—it is simply labeled Anglo-Indian Collection.

Off for Dinner to Park Street:

It had been a long but very fruitful day and five of us had made plans to have dinner on Park Street following the conference. We said our long goodbyes to the students who were very happy indeed to interact with us. Sadly, as the dinner was one that each of us paid for, the students could not afford to join us. But I have to say that I was very impressed that some of the conference participants had come to Calcutta just for the day and were returning to Orissa and Kurseong respectively at the end of the day because they did not have a place to stay in Calcutta and did not want to spend on hotels. I kept thinking about how blessed I am to still have research funds available to me through NYU so that all my expenses will be reimbursed. There are so many little things for which we, American academics, need to be grateful..

We took an Uber to Park Street (I was with Brent and Deebojoy) as we made our way to Floriana, which is a restaurant to which we always somehow return. But by the time I finished using the facilities, the group had changed its mind about eating there and at Brent’s suggestion, we made our way on foot to a lovely place called One Step Up, where he said the food was excellent.

And indeed, Brent was correct. First of all, it is a much cozier space and secondly the menu was lovely. Brent, Robyn and Keith had the Burmese Chicken Kow Suey but because I just had some at my friend Marianel’s place in Bombay, I chose an item I really love and rarely see on a menu in India—Singaporean Laksa.  This is a hearty coconut milk-based noodle soup that comes with meat and veg. I chose the Prawn version and it was very good indeed. Deebojoy chose the Chicken Stroganoff and he said it was superb. We had all started with drinks (I had a G and T while others had Pina Coladas and Rum and Cokes) and starters of fish and spring rolls; but we decided not to have dessert as we were all too full. What a superb meal it was! Instead, in lieu of dessert, we decided to stop for a small ice-cream cone each at a tiny parlor, a few doors down and I treated everyone to a frozen treat—chocolate, mango, kesar pistachio. It was a very sweet end to a really wonderful day!

Back to the Hotel to Call It A Night:

We said Bye to Brent and Deebojoy (Brent is renting a small flat close by) but Deebojoy lives a bit further away. Keith, Robyn and I used the back streets (crowded, dirty, congested) to get to our hotel and reached there about 15 minutes later on foot. 

All that was left then was for us to say goodbye as they would be leaving early tomorrow morning to get to Tamil Nadu. They had a flight to Chennai as they are going off to Valainkanni for the novena and feast and will stay there for a few more days to get some research done. I bid them goodbye and left to return to my room where I enjoyed the quiet serenity of the air-conditioning, called my Dad, had a long conversation with Llew to tell him all about the conference and then did a bit of reading and switched off my light. 

It had been another wonderful day in Calcutta and I felt very fulfilled indeed at the shape it had taken.

Until tomorrow…

Oh Calcutta! First Day Exploring India’s Former Capital!

Oh Calcutta! First Day Exploring India’s Former Colonial Capital

Thursday, August 25, 2022

Waking up at 4.00 am (after having set my alarm for 4.30 am) is a sure sign of ignited nerves and I was a bundle of nerves as I left my flat in Bandra at 5.00 am to stand on the corner of my street waiting for a yellow cab or rickshaw to take me to the airport for my 7.00 am flight. Just when it seemed as if all the cab and rick drivers were fast asleep, a rick came along to whisk me off to the airport where I reached within 20 minutes as we flew along the highway.

Check in was a breeze as I did not check in a bag but took it as a carry on and sank down to enjoy the long ride along the tarmac to the aircraft followed by a non-eventful but very comfortable flight. It took two and a half hours during which time I enjoyed my own delicious home made sandwich with a bottle of water (meals were available for sale on the Go First aircraft (my first time flying with this airline). I read 84 Charing Cross Road on my IPad during the flight and almost finished the very short novella by the time we landed. I managed to take pix of take off in Bandra with the Sealink and the Bay of Worli plus good pix of the Brahmaputra river (which becomes the Hooghly river in West Bengal), of the green paddy fields of the state (brought to mind all those films of Satyajit Ray that I have seen over the years) and the urban density of the sprawling city of Calcutta. Wonderful touch down and landing!

It took me half an hour to get a pre-paid cab at the airport as there were too many people in the line and too few vehicles available, but when I did (for Rs. 300), I was dropped off easily at my Hotel Elgin Fairlawn on Sudder Street right in the heart of old Calcutta. The Hotel is like a green oasis in the midst of a busy, bustling neighborhood and dates from the late 1700s. I have been staying here on my trips to Calcutta since the days when it was run by the venerable Armenian Violet Smith and later her daughter Jennifer. After Violet’s death, it was sold to the Oberoi’s and definitely looks much more spiffy now than it did in the old days when it exuded shabby chic!

Entering the lobby is like returning home for me. The old-world graciousness of the staff, the arrival of a magical welcome drink (I so needed it after my hot and long journey from the airport during which time traffic simply crawled) and the fact that I was instantly upgraded to a deluxe double room because I am a frequent user of this hotel, did wonders for my spirits. After finding my room at the end of a long verandah on the top floor, I stashed my stuff away, used the facilities and left. It was about 12. 15 pm by then, long after I had actually expected to reach.  Still, without wasting any further time, I took directions from Manish, the nice receptionist, and made my way towards a half day of sight seeing.

Taking the Metro to the Victoria Memorial:

I love Calcutta’s Metro system and by the time I bought my ticket for the princely sum of Rs. 5, and stood at the platform waiting for my train, I felt as if I was back in Manhattan again and waiting for my subway train! It was spanking clean and gracious. I was in the train for just two stops—Maidan and the Rabindra Sadan (my stop). I followed instructions to the T (given by Manish), but I had to say that the walk from the station to my destination was LONG and since it was hot and really humid, I was tired within ten minutes of walking. Asking all along the way for the entrance to the Victoria Memorial, I finally found it a good half hour later, by which time I was already quite wiped out.

Exploring the Gardens of the Victoria Memorial:

I needed an urgent sit-down and I found it on a bench overlooking one of the reflecting pools of the vast gardens that surround the Victoria Memorial. It is truly a spectacular monument and I simply could not get enough of it on my camera. I photographed it from every angle to take in the glory of Viceroy Curzon’s vision for a memorial monument that would commemorate the recently-dead Queen Victoria (which makes me wonder…can you imagine what they are going to build after our current Queenie pops it—longest reigning British monarch and all that ???) It was a good time to eat my other sandwich and down half a bottle of water as I needed to rehydrate myself urgently. I was losing moisture through perspiration at an alarming rate as the humidity was so high. When I felt refreshed in the shade overlooking the gorgeous building, I walked all the way around it to arrive at the main entrance as I had arrived on the south side past the sculptured monuments to Edward VII, Victoria’s son. From the main entrance, one sees the grand bronze sculpture of the seated Victoria sculpted by George Frampton and just on the other side, is the grand marble sculpture of Curzon whose brain child this building is. Meanwhile, there are gorgeous fountains, roses in lush flower beds, reflecting pools—all the elements that make for grand Edwardian gardens. I loved it and took it all in.

Inside the Victoria Memorial:

It is funny how I visit this building on every trip I make to Calcutta (as I love it so much) but never remember much of its interior details. So it is always with a sense of awe and wonder that I take it in each visit. The grand Rotunda (with its soaring dome) in the style of Andrea Palladio’s rotundas the world over, the Greek columns that hold it up, the dentil molding, and at the very top (simply too far, in my opinion, for the human eye to take in details), the half moon mosaics that record key moments in the life of Victoria—from the day she received news that she had become queen, to her coronation to her death bed. Needless to say, Prince Albert features in a lot of the depictions and I was stunned and wished I had a pair of binoculars with which to take in the minute details at the top.

Next, I made a bee line for the gallery that holds the collection of colonial paintings by the uncle-nephew team of Thomas and William Daniels. They arrived in India in the 18th century and traveled around the newly-acquired colony of Bengal documenting their progress as they painted monuments, landscapes, people. They have left us a brilliant record of India in that era. I was disappointed that only a handful of their works were on display—on previous visits, I have seen a far bigger collection.  However, in honor of the 75th anniversary of India’s Independence, most of the galleries were taken up new exhibitions to mark the occasion. There was a huge one of Calcutta’s most famous son—Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose and the army he created in Singapore to overthrow the British by using tactics far removed from the non-violent ones advocated by Gandhi.  In another gallery upstairs (mercifully air-conditioned), there was a whole other exhibition on the attempts by Indians based overseas in the 19th and early 20th centuries to either muster support for Indian Independence or to overthrow British rule in some form. The history buff in me found all of this fully fascinating and it was with great difficulty that I managed to tear myself away after carefully reading all of the curatorial notes (in three languages, English, Hindi and Bengali). It was all beautifully curated and I felt less disappointed that room had been made for these new exhibitions by removing the majority of the colonial paintings as well as the section of Indian paintings that, in the past, had featured some of the great painters of the Bengali Renaissance.  There was so much to read, so many pictures to see, several videos playing on a loop in many corners of the vast galleries and so many visitors (I was thrilled) that filled the space. 

When I was done, I left the building and, asking for directions, made my way to the next item on my agenda: a visit to St. Paul’s (Anglican) Cathedral that is literally just across the road. 

Visiting St. Paul’s Cathedral:

St. Paul’s Cathedral is the oldest and most striking Gothic structure in Calcutta. It dates from the 1700s and is an impressive, pure white building with a crenelated central tower. I have visited it before because I love the quiet serenity of its interior, but mainly because I  love one of its stained glass windows. It was designed and executed by Edward Burne-Jones, one of the members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood of whom I am a huge fan. Inside, the Cathedral reminds me of St. Thomas’ Cathedral in Bombay.  It is full of mortuary monuments in marble, including a giant one of Bishop Hebbar who introduced Anglo-Indian schools in Calcutta. Photography is strictly prohibited inside the church and I had to find special permission at the church office to be able to take a picture of it for my fiend Dr. Fiona Mann, who is a scholar of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood in the UK. Naturally, I too wanted a picture of it as I am, as I said above, a huge fan of the Pre-Raphaelites. Mission accomplished, I left the church and found my way to the exit.

I could not face the idea of walking back in the exhausting heat and humidity back to my hotel but I could urgently do with a nap by this time. So I hailed a cab and made my way back to my hotel, where I ran into my friend, Dr. Robyn Andrews who had arrived for the conference from Massey University in New Zealand. We had a happy reunion and since I was dying for a cup of tea, by this point, I chinwagged with her for a bit while ordering a tea tray which I sat in the restaurant and enjoyed with two cookies. It was the best pick-me-up and just a little later, I returned to my room where I sank down in the blissful air-conditioned coolness and promptly took a nap.

Exploring New Market and Finding Dinner at Park Street:

It was exactly 6.00 pm when I decided to leave my room again and continue sightseeing. I had two more items on my agenda for the day: a visit to New Market and Park Street. I was determined to fit them both in before calling it a day.

New Market, whose real name is the SS Hogg Market (Sir Stewart Hogg Market), is just a five minute walk from my hotel and I easily found my way there. It is a huge covered market in the fashion of Crawford Market in Bombay and is probably of the same vintage—ie. Late 1800s. This one was erected by S Hogg who was knighted by the British.  

You could spend a whole day in New Market because you can, literally, get everything under the sun here. But I was focused on three shops: Nahoum’s, a Jewish bakery dating from the late 1800s which is really popular at XMas time for its incredible plum cake; Chamba Lama, a Tibetan store that sells handicrafts and is known for its semi-precious stones set in silver jewelry; J.Johnson, a grocery store known for selling Bandel Cheese to which Indians were introduced by the Portuguese. After they were taught by the Portuguese how to cause milk to curdle in order to create cheese, the Bengalis used the curds to fashion all sorts of sweets—hence, the Bengali sweets such as rosgolla, Cham Cham and sponge ‘sandwich’—also sondesh. I decided to buy some cheese to taste. I found it very salty. It is sold in small discs, in plain and smoked varieties. I bought the smoked sort. My friend Ashley told me about this cheese and requested me to buy him some—which I did. From Nahoum’s, I bought rich plum cake and light fruit cake to take to my Dad and Russel, as well as vanilla and chocolate fudge and a rum ball for my dessert. I have to say that I enjoyed strolling around the market, but I was already so tired from my morning wandering that I kept my rambles to the minimum. When my purchases were in the bag (literally!), I walked out and made my way to Park Street which was a 15 minute walk away. 

Park Street was completely different from the New Market area. It is hip and spiffy and filled with expensive designer stores, boutiques, restaurants that had their heyday in the 1950s, 60s and 70s and confection shops such as Fleury’s. I passed by all of them to take in their ambience which was all the more enticing with the bright lights switched on by this time. However, I was focused mainly on buying myself a kathi kebab roll that had been introduced to Calcutta by a restaurant called Nizam’s in New Market. The same Nizam’s rolls were touted as being really good at a small hole-in-the-wall place on Park Street called Kusum Rolls and it was there that I bought a mutton kathi roll to go. I had to wait for about 15 minutes as the place was mobbed and offered only take-out service. With my roll in the bag, I walked along the main road to my hotel.

I was really knackered by this point and all I could think of was throwing myself on my bed in the wonderful cool serenity of my room. I had only enough energy to eat my dinner and my dessert, chat briefly with Llew, brush and floss my teeth and get straight into bed. 

It had been a hugely tiring day but a hugely productive one as well and I was grateful that I had such a lovely place in which to rejuvenate myself through a very early night.

Until tomorrow…