West Bengal! A beautiful
state in eastern India, a home to thousands of great scientists, philosophers,
revolutionists, writers, musicians- you think of any sector and they are there-
C.V. Raman, Satyendra Nath Bose (after whom the term Boson is coined, remember
Higgs Boson?), Rabindra Nath Tagore, Bankim Chandra, Subhash Chandra Bose, even
Mother Teresa lived a major part of her life here. Most of our national songs
come from this part of the country, the anthem itself. Once a home to East
India Company, this place played a key role in the British gaining control over
India. A source of many varieties of mangoes which are distributed all over the
country- Did you know they have a kind of mango which melts as soon as you open
it? The only place in India where trams are still operational. Durga Pooja- I
have never seen the kind of enthusiasm and zest towards any festival but being
in this part of the world during this festival is something that should go in
your list of things to see before you die. West Bengal- A land full of
surprises and indeed makes up for a unique cultural hub in India.
Recently I had the chance
to spend a week in Kolkata. I arrived at Howrah station in the afternoon.
Moments before your train stops, one can see the magnificent Rabindra Setu or
Howrah Bridge as it is popularly called, built over the Hugli River. It is a part of the great Ganges coming from the
Himalayas, making its way through the historic city of Allahabad and Benaras to
finally get consumed by the Bay of Bengal. Outside the train
station, the road is filled with yellow taxis and it is easy to get caught in a
traffic jam, a common thing in this congested city. The taxi took me through
the packed Boro Bazaar, the famous cricket ground Eden Garden, Victoria
memorial and Park Street.
After a day’s rest, I left
for Murshidabad district the next morning early at 6 am with my mom and sister.
As usual, the train journeys in India are one of a kind- this one was real
crazy! My journey till the town of Krishna Nagar was smooth and I stood at the
door to enjoy the fresh morning air. Local vendors barging in train
compartments is a common thing and it is sometimes a delight to see them
chanting chai-chai, something I have seen seeing since I was a child.
But this train was full of vendors, beggars and artists (singers,
musicians- not the ones you see on TV :P) after this town. You literary have a
small market in one bogie with people selling towels, handkerchiefs, T-shirts,
shorts, blankets, dhotis, toys, chai, jhal moodi, fruits and veggies.
Every 5 minutes, a beggar came along asking for money and generally they were
accompanied by kids or blind people. On-board entertainment is in the form of
songs and flute music by the local daily wage earners. For the first time I
have seen people using microphones and speaker systems in the train and having
a karaoke in the middle of this crowded compartment. Earning money in trains
just went high-tech. There were more vendors than people who were actually
travelling. We reached Berhampore in Murshidabad district about an hour late at
noon.
A 15 minute ride in a
cycle rickshaw takes you to the village of Khagra, where my mom spent her
childhood. She was excited to see her place after nearly 30 years. To her
disappointment, her home and the nearby areas were ruined by the local people
there. I was not impressed either to see the number of people living in
slums here. The Ganges takes the name of Bhagirathi here and Hugli
in Kolkata. The level of water has fallen drastically in the past 30 years. The
government has made an attempt to beautify the banks by making parks and
amendments to control floods. Unfortunately the locals and the tourists have
used these parks as a dumping spot for the wastes. The forests have been replaced
by shacks built of mud and dry grass. River gets contaminated by these people
washing their clothes daily. But if you think about it, even they don’t have a
choice- they have no livelihood, no jobs or proper homes or food- so they make
the best of whatever is available to them. This part of Bengal is very poor,
but beautiful geographically. This part feeds a major part of the
population in the state as most of the agricultural product comes from the
fields in Murshidabad. We took a ride in one of the local boats which people
use to cross the river. You can bring anything- Motor bikes, bicycles, yourself
of course, vegetable and fruit carts- anything! They were made of bamboo sticks
and ran from early morning until night. We paid about ₹ 1.5 for the
whole trip, that’s hardly 2 cents. It was good to travel in the
cheapest boat ride ever in the midst of a beautiful landscape.
The
market in Khagra is set up in a small street. Apart from the common goods like
daily groceries, clothes and shoe shops, there were a considerable number of
shops selling classical Indian musical instruments like Tabla, Sitar
and Flute. In the middle of this one street market, there was a school where my
mom used to study. It is one building about 2 storey high with no playground. It
was 7 pm when we arrived so the school was closed and I was not able to see
anything from inside. My mom recollected a fat old lady with a stick in her
hand who used to sit on the front porch of the building waiting to punish the
students who came late. Her eyes showed part nostalgia and part disappointment
to see her locality. We stopped for food at one of the local restaurants to
have traditional Bengali food which consisted of rice, pulses, veggies and
potato fries.
Next
day we left for a tour of the popular tourist destinations of Murshidabad
district. We made our way along a road running parallel to Bhagirathi River to
make our first stop at Motijhil- a horse shoe shaped lake enclosing Moti mahal,
a palace built by Nawazish Muhammed Khan as a residence. The palace is now in
ruins and only a mosque Khala Masjid stands with the tomb of Edward Keating,
superintendent of Murshidabad district (1794), in front of it. The locals have
taken shelter in the destroyed palace and the lake water is used to wash
clothes. It is disheartening to see such a beautiful landscape being destroyed
and nothing is being done about it.
The
way to Jahan Kosha gun is full of lush green crop fields and we made a stop in
between to change a punctured tyre. The natives were very generous to offer us
Pomelo and raw lemon when asked for it. The intoxicating fragrances of these
fruits were indeed rare to find in big cities like Kolkata or Delhi. Together
with the pleasant air of a village, one often gets tempted to stay over for a
week and enjoy these rare joys for city people like us. It is in this land that
many wars were fought during and after Mughal rule in India. Bengali blacksmith-Janardan’s
Jahan Kosha gun is one of the few heavy armory used by the military then. Made
during reign of Shah Jahan (the same person who made the Taj Mahal!), this
canon gun weighed about 7 tons. It is hard to believe that people really
carried such a heavy load at a time when machines were alien to Indians.
Murshidabad
is named after Nawab Murshid Quli Khan, who built the Katra Mosque in AD 1723. Built
on a lofty platform, this mosque is the oldest and most imposing Islamic
architecture at Murshidabad. Listed as a monument of archaeological importance,
it is well maintained by the Archeological Survey of India. Nawab himself was
buried under the front staircase of this mosque. His daughter, Begum
Azimunnisa, was also buried under the staircase of her mosque, completely
destroyed now, but bore many similarities with her father’s mosque.
Murshidabad
is alive because of its monuments. Apparent from the way people live, this
place is very poor and it seems like it is not getting enough government support
for the welfare of the natives. The major source of income is through year
round tourism, the seasonal mangoes and other veggies. The fields around Katra mosque are full
of mango trees – about 250 different types. Between these trees, the lush green
crops and beside the Bhagirathi river stands the magnificent Hazarduari Palace-
a structure with an amalgam of Mughal and British Ideas. As the name suggests,
Hazarduari (Hazar means a thousand and duar means doors) consists of a thousand
doors. My mom and her siblings had actually counted those doors when they were
kids! There’s a catch! Not all of them are "doors". Some of them are
just made of concrete and blend with the walls to fool a predator from escaping
the palace once he is inside. There are no knobs in any of the doors- real or
fake. Only the keeper has the knobs and he only knows about the path to get out
of the palace. Hazarduari looks like one of those Roman structures from the
front, however with a Mughal touch inside. The palace is now a museum, home to
thousands of war artillery, medieval ivory art, Mughal and British wagons and
Roman style statues among others. This monument was indeed a wonder and a
perfect place if you want to see India during the mid of Mughal and British
rule.
After
a heavy Bengali lunch, we took a horse cart to the nearest railway to make our
way back to Kolkata. This trip was indeed one of a kind- I was travelling with
my family after a long time. I am generally used to travel alone. To watch my
mom come to her home village after a long time made me realize that someday
even I will be in her place. Someday, even I will leave behind all the things I
am living with. The question is, will everything be the same after all those years?
How will our lives change? Destiny has its own way of taking us to unexpected
places. Future is full of surprises. It is better to enjoy the gifts that
nature offers us today!
