Anirvan Sen

“Sheryl, we’re late. Hurry up, we don wanna be late. You know how these phoreigners are, always on time.” – Peter said sarcastically, busy surfing the channels from the living room of the modest flat in the posh area of Golf Green.

“Are Baba, let me put on the lip-liner first. Can you come here for a minute?” shouted Sheryl from the bedroom while putting the foundation on her face “Which lip-liner should I choose, this one from L’Oreal or the one from Lancome”.

“I think I’ll settle for the L’Oreal. See this shade, it goes so well with this soft matte cocoa shade. Sunisha had taken me to this shop in GK-I. They’ve such a lovely collection. I don’t know why can’t they’ve a similar collection in Calcutta.” continued Sheryl.
 

Peter and Sheryl, both were known more by their nicks than the original names. Partho-Pratim and Sheetal Sen had moved to Calcutta after Partho was promoted as VP- Business Development, East Zone

Peter came from an affluent Bengali family and Sheetal Singh was the only daughter of Maj. Daljit Singh who had a successful business of export of garments. Both Peter and Sheryl were born and brought up in Delhi. And the idea of shifting to Calcutta was not a welcome one. Sheryl had resisted the move to Calcutta vehemently but Peter had promised to come back to Delhi in a few years time.

For the initial few weeks, Sheryl sulked and longed back to the comfort of their home in Delhi. But as they got involved socially, the situation changed, thanks to his colleagues and, of course, the cousins and friends of Peter.

And in the process, she managed to pick up a little Bengali as well.

Pradip had moved to England, after Pradip landed a job with a software company. Raised in Calcutta, Pradip came from a modest background. In fact, his father had spent all his savings on the house that he built in Salt Lake, in North Calcutta. His father was a Professor with one of the city colleges and his mother was a housewife. Situation, however, changed after Pradip moved to England. They replaced the antique Ambassador mark-II, which was bought 4th hand by a new Maruti. Major renovations were done in the house. A new burgundy (a few call it Bordeaux as well) coloured velvet sofa took the place of their brown, Rexene sofa with open springs.

Pradip was married to Aparna, who was from a better-to-do family (not rich but comfortably well-off) compared to Pradip. It was only after a couple of meetings, both had consented to tying the nuptial knots. Aparna joined him in England after the marriage,.

Even though the workplace was a bit far, but Pradip had decided to live in Ilford, a suburb of London. He wanted to be close to his friends who’d joined the same company around the same time. His friends like him, had also come from Calcutta, were Bengalees and belonged to middle class families as well. When Pradip came to England for the first time, he was put in the company guesthouse where he met his future friends. Six of them shared a 3-bedroom house. In fact, later on those 6 people were to become more than just flat-mates, they became friends for life. Pradip’s life in London centred around his friends and later the Probashi Bengalee association. In fact, he was so involved in his social life that he forgot to socialise with the Europeans. Not knowing Hindi also became an obstacle to befriending with other Indians. And the result, his social circle was limited to Bengalis only. Not only that, he became frozen in time and mind. Even though he worked in a foreign country but his head and heart would live in Calcutta. Like an automated process, his emotion switched on and off with an uniform regularity. Even Aparna’s arrival did not help much as she also got involved in the community.

Even their daily lives became sort of a routine with few individuals taking a very prominent position. The neighbourhood Bangladeshi shop run by Sadek-bhai provided them with all sorts of fish and other ingredients. And invariably, on every visit, the song “Aki Bongo hoilo Bhongo, Purob o Poshchim” would start playing in his mind and the philosopher Pradip would speculate the consequences if the two Bengals were not partitioned.

For mutton, they would have to visit Farooq, a Pakistani whose shop was right adjacent to Patel’s news-stall, which provided them with the regular edition of The Asian Age. Jagtar Singh ran the Indian groceries and vegetables shop. In a week if not a fortnight all these shops would be visited at least once and the visits would take place mostly on Saturdays, right before joining a friend either at their own place or at the friend’s place where a few families joined in, to spend their weekends. The meetings would start from Saturday afternoon and go on well into early Sunday morning till all of them passed out. In fact, the frenzy of drinking was only surpassed by the food.
 

Pradip and Aparna came to India almost every year. Only on one occasion when Pradip’s parents visited them that they failed to come. They visited India during the winter holidays around the X-Mas and New Year’s every year and because of this, they’d never seen the frenzy of Christmas or the fireworks of the New Year in London. In fact their visit to India was always restricted to Calcutta or atmost they would go to Lilua to visit their Pisi. Their visit to Calcutta would last around between 3 to 4 weeks at a stretch.

Like the regularity of their annual visit, even the airline was fixed. They flew British Airways every year. And as soon as they would land at the Airport, the euphoria would begin. some friends and family would come to the airport to receive them. And then all of them would try to fit in the aging taxi of Sardarji along with the luggage. But in spite of the space shortage, smiling faces could be seen literally dangling out of the stained window of the yellow taxi

Hordes of invitations would start pouring from all over, from their relatives, their cousins, friends and his erstwhile colleagues as well. Meeting with people, shopping for the cheaper clothes, stitching clothes, savouring Phuchkas, egg-rolls, a visit to Park Street, etc. All of these would be rolled in their ever increasing to-do-when-in-Calcutta list.

When Pradip and Aparna came on their annual pilgrimage, they adorned a pseudo-British personality They start talking about how great every thing in London was and everything about Calcutta was bad. It was the same set of people when in foreign land, were heart-broken and miss their India, that they want to go back to India at the earliest propitious moment but somehow that opportunity never comes. But when amongst countrymen in India they detest, denigrate and lampoon the people living here as if they themselves lived in paradise.
 

Bishwajit Banerjee, had been a very close friend of the Rays. And two years back, Bishu had befriended with the Sens and had really become their confidant in the last year during the transition period. “From Delhi to Calcutta – the rise and fall and rise again of the Sens”, Bishu would taunt the Sens playfully and the Sens would lap it, as good humour. Since Sens had not met the Rays, Bishu thought of introducing the two of his best friends. And what better place than his own roof.

The party was to be hosted on the eve of the New Year. And amongst his more than two dozen invitees, the names of the Sens and the Rays appeared prominently.
 

Pradip wore his new dark grey suit which he recently got stitched in Calcutta. Aparna wore her new Bomkai, which was presented by her mother-in-law a few days back. Along with the rich colour of the saree she, adorned herself with 3 gold chains, each of different length and design and thick gold bracelets, and to match with them, she wore a heavy set of earrings. The gold bracelet was bought from Dubai. Three years back, a cheap flight ticket had been available that was to fly through Dubai and they had digressed themselves from the usual British Airways flight. That year, they had missed the company of Bengalees who flew from various corners of USA, Canada and UK to go back home.

On the other hand, Sheryl draped herself into a pastel blue chiffon saree with a low-cut blouse and a bare back with only few strings holding the piece of cloth. The saree was also tucked in stylishly to enhance her curvaceous body and the bare mid-rif and her navel could be seen through the haze of the pastel blue.

She wore a hair-thin chain of 9-carat gold with a small diamond and a pair of small diamond earrings.

“You’re looking sexy” – marked Peter. “God knows how many people would fall on the floor tonight”.

“C’mon, don’t be a jerk. Tell me seriously, how do I look?”

“You’re looking gorgeous, honey! Now, can we leave? The party started almost an hour back.”

The couple left for the party in their new emerald green Opel Astra, which was given as one of the incentives given to Peter for moving to Calcutta.

The party was supposed to start at 1930 hrs. Pradip and Aparna reached around the same time keeping up with their British tradition. And they were of course, the first ones to reach.

“Hey, you guys landed up right on time. Give us a few minutes to tidy ourselves and we’ll join you soon” – exclaimed Bishu. “Meanwhile, I’ve some rum-punch with Old Monk. Maybe you guys would like to have a drink, till we get ready. I’m really sorry, just give a few minutes”.

“No thanks. You guys get ready. We’ll manage ourselves”. Aparna and Pradip settled down on the sofa. Aparna picked up the latest Stardust and Pradip started flipping through the Desh.

Other guests started arriving after 2030. First were the Gangulys, followed by Khannas and then almost everybody turned up except for the Sens.

“Kirey, kemon achhish. Tui to ekdom saheb hoye gechis. Mama, ki bepaar bolto”. Mr. Ganguly was a childhood friend of both Bishu as well as Pradip. Since, he had moved to Bangalore, Pradip had lost touch with him.

Meanwhile, Bishu’s wife Nandini came and announced that the dance floor was ready and asked her guests to proceed to the dance floor.

Both Aparna and Pradip were taken by a surprise. They expected a party where people would sit and talk till the early hours of morning. This was sort of a first for them. They’d never been to a dance party before. In fact, all these years, they’d glued themselves to the Doordarshan’s hungama with their family and friends.

Bishu introduced Ravi Dutta, the DJ for the evening. Ravi was Media vice-president for one of the leading Advertising agencies of the city.

The floor was fully done up with flashing lights, strobes, disco lights. On the sides, there was a sidetable that housed some sandwiches, noodles, fries, kebabs, and some other snacks. Plastic cups and plates with white tissues were placed next to the Jug of Rum-punch. There were some other alcohol bottles as well some of which were brought by the guests as well.

While people were surveying the floor, Bishu announced the arrival of the Sens.
“Look who is here? Come in Peter. How’s goin?” asked Bishu. “Hi Sheryl, you look stunning, as usual”. Sheryl gave a hug to Bishu and Nandini. Almost everyone on the floor, observed the new couple with keen interest.

Pradip and Aparna also scrutinized the newly arrived guests but not for long. The dislike was almost instantaneous. “Dekhechho, Bhodromohila ki osshobhyer moto dress korechhey” confided the aghast Aparna to Pradip.

“Astey bolo. Dekhle ora ashtay-ee, kirokom golai joralo” whispered Pradip. “Era to ekdum ultra-modern”.

Suddenly the lights were switched off. The DJ announced the beginning of the countdown to the New Year. The disco lights came on and with a loud bang, the music started. It was the Venga Boys with their “boom boom boom” who boomed on the 1000-Watts Sony Amps.

“You must be Pradip. Hi, I’m Peter. And this is my wife Sheryl”Peter introduced themselves.

“Hello (which sounded like mellow), I’m Paddy and this is Ap, my wife” said Pradip. The suddenness of his change of mind towards Anglicisation surprised Pradip himself as was Aparna.

“I believe, you stay in London “ continued Peter, now with a British accent. “It is such a lovely place. The Trafalgar Squah, St. Paul’s (like Paws) Cathedral, Leicester Squah …” went on Peter.

“When did you come to Lawn-don MishtaarPeetaar?” asked inquisitive Pradip.

The question startled Peter, a bit. “I’ve been to Singapore a few times” answered Peter with a marked uneasiness. “Can you excuse us, we’ll go and say hello to the Khannas” said Sheryl, nudging Peter. “We’ll catch up with you later”, said Sheryl in the direction of Aparna. They hurriedly made their way towards the Khannas. Meanwhile, both Pradip and Aparna exchanged glances on the sudden departure of the Sens.

The enthusiasm created by the music increased by the minute. To give it a bit of Indian-ness, DJ Ravi now introduced Daler Mehndi’s “bolo tara rara” for the people on the floor. The ones who were gyrating a few minutes earlier, were now Bhangra-ing.

Pradip somehow, failed to comprehend how could these Bengalis give up their Bengali identity and take up the crassness of the North Indians. He also observed, that Mr. Khanna pulled Sheryl on to the dance floor and started dancing.

Suddenly, Bishu appeared from nowhere and pulled both Pradip and Aparna in a swift movement. The next thing, they realised was that they’re in the middle of the floor and people around them were clapping in encouragement.

Pradip and Aparna had never ever felt so embarrassed in their whole lives. But, with repeated insisting of others, they started swaying a bit, with slight movements of their body. But the awkwardness of dancing in front of so many onlookers was too much to bear. It carried on for what seemed like a decade before the music stopped.

Pradip was fuming red and Aparna was almost choked with embarrasement. They moved to the side as soon as the song finished. The crowd cheered them for their performance with a loud applause but for them, it looked like a mockery of their inability.

They sat down on the chairs placed next to the floor. It took a while for them to come back to normalcy. But when back in

their senses, they observed Sheryl talking coyly to Mr. Khanna and falling literally on him on almost every joke he cracked. In fact, even Peter was not far behind. 3 young woman, two of who were from the media world, surrounded Peter. They were passing a lit cigarette, after taking a few puffs each. Their dress was also not far behind Sheryl’s. One of them was wearing a skirt with such a long slit that nothing was left for imagination. The other was wearing a tubetop.

Pradip had only seen this kind of vulgarity on TV and cinemas. He would turn off their black and white EC TV, every time they showed vulgarities like this. He had come across woman like those in England quite often, most of them were whites and at times, few Asians as well. But somehow, Pradip always referred to them, as part of alien, foreign culture. And even though it would upset him, but he had become used to it.

But to see, something like this in his beloved Calcutta was far worse than his worst nightmares. Somehow, Calcutta always reminded him of culture, of Rabindra-Sangeet, of trams, of people, the city of joy. “When did this cultural invasion take place?” he asked himself.

They couldn’t take it any longer. They stayed in the party only till midnight but as soon as he saw people kissing and hugging each other, to welcome the New Year, they literally dashed out from the party.

Others were perplexed by their sudden departure, but within a few minutes everybody was back on the floor, jumping away in elation.

For Pradip and Aparna, it was long drive back home. They’d seen a Calcutta that night, which they couldn’t recognise. The so-called modernity of people around baffled them. They couldn’t comprehend their westernised life-style. What western influence were they talking about? Their dresses would have left even the liberal westerners far behind.

Why had Peter and Sheryl changed their names into Christian names? Why were they speaking in English all the time? And why did some of them put on a British accent while speaking to them as if they did not understand Indian English.

How come they knew so much about London as if they were brought up there, and yet, they had never been there?

Even in London, he couldn’t recall having been invited to a party like this. In fact, none of the people, they were familier with, were like this. He’d never ever touched any of his friend’s wives.
 

“Are you sure, they stay in London?” Sheryl wound down her side of the window with the automatic switch to let in some fresh morning air of Calcutta. Calcutta at 3 o’clock in the morning always stirred up Sheryl.

“Well, I don’t know. From their looks, the way they talked, their appearance, they looked so Shekeeley, out-dated. They looked like the typical Midnapore crowd. I wonder how do they manage in London.” Peter taking a turn to get onto the main street. “In London, people are smartly dressed. Their mannerisms are well-known and their conversation full of wisdom laced with subtle humour, none of which was even remotely present amongst the Rays. They seemed to be totally mismatched for the occasion.”

“Somehow, London and Rays don’t go together. Did you notice how awkwardly Paddy danced? And what kind of name was Ap. Ape, I think” Sheryl laughed out loud.
“By the way, how’s Anil Khanna doing these days. He seemed to be making moves on you” laughed Peter.

“You don’t say things like that, OK. Did you see yourself? The Krishna amongst gopis, did you notice the way, that woman in the black skirt was eyeing you” Sheryl with her North Indian public school accent, a mix of English with a tint of Hindi continued “I don’t know how these guys milophy (mix) with the English”

“It looks like Anindo is havin an affair with Shilpi” Peter with his American accent commented.

“Really! I think so too but poor Raakhee, she’ll have to look for another husband”

“How about Paddy?”

Their conversation carried on, till they disappeared in the January mist of Calcutta.
 

Calcutta remains the mute spectator of changing lives, of changing culture and of changing people. Some people do not change even after staying away from her and some change even staying with her. I guess there is no simple answer to this question. May be you do!
 

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