In Kolkata, I stay in Alipore,

It is an old colonial-style residence my grandfather built,

The house is spacious, and well looked after by Ajit Dey on whom

I depend; Ajit did not take the day off for me.

I was alone when I took the Raja Santosh Road route for Kalighat,

I knew Anjan would be there for the Devi Archana and Darshana.

Then, we would go to Rasbehari Avenue,

For some shopping, and to blend with the crowd.

 

Kolkata is a crowded place. It is a very crowded place,

That draws you in and is never enough. It breathes politics.

I have no interest in politics,

And avoid discussing politics of any region.

Almost sixty years ago, I had lost my classmate.

Amitava died at the door of his house in Santoshpur brutally stabbed

In the staircase in the full view of his parents,

He was the only child of the Bhattacharya family that included

Two married brothers of his father.

 

I found Anjan waiting for me

To our chagrin, the crowd that held our attention

Gave us no freedom to do any shopping,

We dropped the idea and took a taxi

To Park Street for dinner at the Barbeque Nation

And there relished our beer and the delightful grilled non-veg platter;

It was past midnight when I went to sleep.

 

Kolkata wakes up as early as all big cities do.

The city noise that takes off gently soon becomes a roar,

People pour out into the streets and roads,

Either walk or cram into different vehicles;

Everyone seems programmed with a place to reach.

I have to reach Govind Sarkar Lane in Bow Bazar area,

By 3.30 P.M. and before that, visit The National Library.

 

I knew Kolkata as the UBI City,

The city of United Bank Of India,

That was the pride of Bengal and the North East.

United Bank of India merged with Punjab National Bank no longer exists.

Kolkata is changing, India is changing.

Only you and I will not change,

Our cribbing and spats continue,

And the world is kept amused.