Calcutta diaries - 1

I now realize that what they call the "reverse culture shock" of coming back to the desh after a while is a bit like the preliminary stages of falling into a blackhole. Space shrinks here. Everything feels smaller, more chaotic. And there is a sense of being returned to the primeval soup where your story began in the first place..
Duh!  Why am I droning on about something so obvious? Because I can.

I turn on the tap. Water flows out in  a narrow stream.. The bathroom floor is wet and stained black and yellow probably from deposits left behind by the iron rich water.   The traditional Asian faith in the cleansing virtues of water rules the roost even in tiled floor  toilet potted Western bathrooms.  The curious cultural amalgam that passes for life in an Indian city makes itself evident in this most personal of  spaces.
Nothing quite works the way it's supposed to. There are too many cars on the streets. They have grown faster than the population in the last few years. There are too many people as well. Suddenly your life feels part of some grander scheme. You see people milling around, trying odd things, quaint and new business ideas all jostling for space - there is a man with two monkeys on a leash, another sits by the roadside with a weighing machine hoping that  a casual passerby would pay to have their weights taken.  You feel part of this cosmicomic setup - a journeyman trying to peddle your own set of things.
The traffic is a nightmare.  Well, negotiating it and the crowds of people, is like playing level 5 of some video game. You get a little bit of kick out of it.  Two years is not enough to change a city a whole lot, but it looks like it can change a person's outlook somewhat.  Why else would one look at the city of one's childhood through these outsider's lens and write this entry?