It was more than just yellow Amby taxis, maach, Christmas on Park Street and handloom fairs. Didi's smiling face ensured we were never alone
"Kemon acho, didi?" I swirled around in surprise, keen to find out who had decided to greet me in Bangla, as I had stepped out of Netaji Subhas Bose airport in Calcutta [sorry, we prefer the old name]. It was my designated taxi driver; we booked a pre-paid all-yellow Ambassador taxi. The mustachioed 'dada' [every man who isn't your partner or husband can safely be called this in the city; likewise for 'didi'] hailed our luggage with a smile as we headed to his parked vehicle. Oh, and yes, I did manage a "Bhaalo achi, dada," despite the 14-year-long gap since my last visit.
In fact, our welcomes had begun immediately after we had landed. There was a calming portrait of Mother Teresa, greeting visitors to the city she called home. Christmas carols to the tune of Rabindrasangeet filled the airport's interiors, and then came the biggest of them all - a mega poster of the state's chief minister was smiling so hard at us, that we wondered what big surprise was in store. She didn't disappoint.
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As the taxi hurtled out of Dum Dum's dusty roads, the once-familiar sights and sounds emerged - honking cars, errant drivers, mishti shops and morning addas. But there was one obvious addition to the landscape: banners of Didi and co. wishing all for Christmas and the New Year, or singing her praises for a civic or local project. Even Maradona's cutouts [he had visited the city earlier] paled in comparison.
As we were headed to South Calcutta, it was a long drive. But while the traffic might have been slow due to the morning rush, it was a smooth ride, aided by several flyovers. We inquired with our driver about the change. Noticing our struggle with Bangla, he mercifully switched to Hindi, citing "didi ka kamaal" as the reason. Ah, no wonder the smile.
That evening, we got a taste of the city's cosmopolitan vibe. As our cab wormed through Little Russell Street to reach Park Street, we swear we heard a 'Merry Christmas' rendition to the tune of 'Hare Rama, Hare Krishna'! Bengalis, Chinese and other communities had come out to celebrate the season on its most famous stretch that was all dressed up in lights displaying scenes of the nativity and other Christmas icons.
Michael Bublé's carols were playing inside the popular Oxford Bookstore. Chai, that other obsession of the city, was in full flow around us, as cups were devoured before you could say 'cha'. The smiling face popped up every now and then.
The next day, our wanderings took us through some of its oldest parts - Brabourne Road, Canning Street, Synagogue Street and Pollock Street. The smells (rohu, betki cooked in mustard, nolen gurer and jhaal muri) were still there. The old buildings looked older but had several new concrete and glass monstrosities for company that had haphazardly intruded the cityscape. Festoon-sporting New Market seemed far more organised, despite the festive rush.
We were happy to revisit a few old favourites, especially the Jewish confectionery gem, Nahoum's. The queues for lunch outside Barb-Q and Peter Cat made us smile, though it was well past 3.30 pm. "We live to eat, remember!" chuckled our sporting Calcuttan friend.
Chowringhee and Esplanade's decrepit elegance exuded the same sleepy, old world charm. What caught our eye through all of this was that practically every retail shop or eatery - big or small - had a Christmas tree or a ballooned Santa to greet you, and was decorated to the hilt.
The following days saw us do fleeting visits to some of its trademark winter fairs. This is where the average muffler-sporting Bengali family will go berserk over dhakais and kanthas, and pattachitras for their homes until they drain their purses dry.
Through all of it, the smiling face never left us, at junctions, melas and classical music festivals, on bus and tram backs, reminding us of 'the change'. Thankfully, despite the 14-year-gap, the city still gave us joy. Now, we were smiling.
mid-day's Features Editor Fiona Fernandez relishes the city's sights, sounds, smells and stones...wherever the ink and the inclination takes her. She tweets @bombayana. Send your feedback to mailbag@mid-day.com
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