An Ode to Kolkata. || Kolkata. The City of Joy that I never truly felt. You see, a non-Bengali living in Durgapur doesn't really have many reasons to see you, except to go somewhere. Transit point. Victoria aar Esplanade, Howrah aar Airport. And so, I've visited you, only for a few, too few days at a stretch. I've heard of you too often, and read about you whenever I've chanced upon literature. Be it the Rabindra Sangeet or his stories, Anupam Roy's Kolkata, or his Ghawrbari, it's always felt like I have missed you, yet left so much unsaid. Iconic, stuck in chaos, the Blue City yet so vibrant, and beautiful — these words don't even begin your tale. You're almost an anachronism, and yet, your tramways and Metro were ahead of its time when Hindustan was struggling with roads, and India was struggling with Railways. Hustling, bustling with energy, sweating and smiling, haggling, and almost smoothly moving by its rhythm— not too fast, yet, not a bit slower—, hanging by its balance, your people have recognised what it is to fall for a city. And you've taken them all, ever since your birth. So when someone asks me, where am I from? I don't think too many times about whether to say Durgapur, or Delhi, or West Bengal. I just smile, and say, Kolkata, even though I never really belonged with you, belonged to you. But I've known you like a lost love, a love with potential. And I've seen you with envy, and pity, and pain, and you've surprised me with something each time. As they all say, and proudly, "Kolkata is an emotion." I'll miss you. || //prothom premer moton byaertho ei shohor// ~Yash Raj Talan #Kolkata #TheCityofJoy #Calcutta #CalcuttaDiaries #writersofinstagram #theinstagramgeneration #TIG (at Kolkata)
