Kolkata

It was very strange. I didn't remember the camera until I was halfway
to the train station. I was going to Kolkata to get a restamping of my
U.S. visa. Always a very painful experience, rubbing in the
patronizing attitute of the embassy officials and workers. The
chowkidar (gatekeeper) will not talk to you in any Indian language.
Fine, we get that it is the Consulate General of the United States of
America. Please keep your attitudes!
So I forgot about the camera, which was very strange, and I tried to
figure out why. As I was driven from the station in Kolkata to the
guest house, didn't even miss having the camera. Either I was so used
to the place, my country, my home that none of the subjects struck me
as novel, or I was so guilty for being priveleged that I didn't dare
think of taking photos. I guess I need to get over my guilt soon if I
am to keep up photography.
It was a day and a half of pure indulgence. Dinner at a three storeyed
Haldiram's food 'mall' was an experience in itself, and I wasn't even
conscious of eating by myself as I had felt in Venice, having being
stared at by the waiters in a cheap pasta place.
The next day, after my appointment at the embassy, I had lunch at a
very traditional South Indian tiffin house. I had been looking forward
to their dosa all morning. Again, there was absolutely no awkwardness
at eating alone, but what was amazing, besides the dosa and coconut
chutney, was the italian part of the menu.
My eyes opened wider till the eyelashes touched my hairline as I read
the Pizza menu. Il formaggi, Champignone, Siciliana,
Napolitana......was I in Toscana? What helped to reorient me was one
odd word amongst the italian items - brinjal.
It is a word that doesn't exist in the English lexicon. The English
use the French 'aubergine' and the Americans call it 'eggplant'. I am
still trying to figure out the origin of Brinjal.
Post lunch was a session at the hardware market in Kolkata called
Chandini, to look up some cabinet handles. The narrow gullies that
wound through the maze of hole in the wall store after hardware store
were dark and yet the dinginess didn't scare me. After my stint at
trying to help my parents (I endeded up getting quotes that were way
too high, still in the USD frame of mind) I was deposited at Howrah
station. My neighbour on the train was an engineer at a Uranium
enrichment plant!
I reached home, quite confused, comfortable with being there yet
marvelling at the newness and advances of the nation.