A socially savvy Left and Calcutta Biriyani

A socially savvy new Left 

One of the most distinctive and endearing features of elections in Bengal used to be pol­itical graffiti. Wit and satire poured over the walls in the form of limericks, cartoons and caricature. It was acerbic wit and caustic creativity at its sharpest. Party workers painted walls and drew posters on old newspapers. Loudspeakers belted out parodies and spoofs. But, not any more—flex-printed giant hoardings have replaced artwork stuck to palm leaf billboards on bamboo polls. Party anthems are now more sophisticated—composed and sung by professional artists, they play at traffic junctions and go viral on you-tube.

Although late to join the party, social media has changed the paradigm of electioneering in Bengal and become the new tool of buzz creation. Memes of politicians have pushed over cartoons. Whatsapp, Facebook and Twitter are the virtual platforms for political sparring in place of the traditional para-r rock adda. Of course, the advantage of social media is that it lends itself to crowdsourcing, not to mention that it is dynamic. With elections held in five or six phases stretched over nearly two months, it helps to maintain momentum and currency by continuously updating messages. It also allows for timely course corrections.

On a side note, it was interesting to note how the Left got off to a better start here than TMC, for whom Twitter was mainly a weapon against the Delhi-based English media.

Tiffin time 

The Boxwallahs took with them not only the industries of Bengal but also Calcutta’s finest restaurants. While other metros are in the throes of a gastronomic tsunami, Calcutta scores in street food. A lunch-time walk thr­ough any of the major office areas (it is still too British to have a downtown) of Dalhousie, High Court, Camac Street and Theatre Road can be a virtual feast. First, there is the traditional Bengali lunch from maach-bhaat (fish curry rice) to omelettes, khichudi and ghugni. Then come the fish fry, mutton chops and cutlets. In winters the favourite is “ishtew”—an Anglo-Indian derivative of the Irish stew. Chowmien and biriyani have long been a steady presence along with the patented kathi rolls. But now, frontiers are being crossed with litti-chokha, chole bhature, dosa and pav bhaji.

The high-end culinary explosion in other cities happened by migration of white-collared populations. Expats have added to the food scene there. With economic power shifting to those cities—people have greater exposure to the global trends. Calcutta, on other hand, had the influx of workers from the neighbouring states in eastern India, who have added variety at the base of the pyramid, as it were.

Bengali “Kaal-char Shal-char” 

May 8th: Tagore’s birth anniversary celebrations have assumed the proportion of a festival under the current political regime. Earlier, a few weeks before Satyajit Ray’s birth anniversary, it upturned the name of the road adjoining his apartment to ‘Satyajit Ray Dharani’, lighting up pole kiosks with Ray’s movie posters.

Yet, music and cinema are two fields where Bengal has made a comeback. Digital technology has brought down the cost of movie-making (the total outlay on a Bengali film is less than the budget of an ‘item number’ in Bollywood) and multiplexes have made distribution easy, allowing talented young directors to experiment with more contemporary themes.

Meanwhile, with Vishwabharati’s monopoly on Tagore’s works gone, there is more experimentation with his songs—something that would have got legends like the late Debabrata Biswas into trouble. With that has come the rise of Bangla Rock and Jeeban Mukhi gaan (New Age songs) breaking the century-old stranglehold of cliched Rabindra Sangeet renditions.

Modern Bengali cinema, however, steers clear of politics. That still remains the domain of theatre. And the Group Theatre movement is still alive though not kicking. Penury ­ensures it is surviving purely on passion and commitment and shoestring budgets. Bengali theatre is unable to attract the kind of well-heeled ­audience that alternative theatre gets in Bombay, Bangalore, and Delhi. The Academy of Fine Arts, near Victoria Memorial—that long preceded Prithvi and NCPA in Mumbai or Kamani and IHC in Delhi—is in poor shape. The state of other public auditoriums is as pathetic and the single-screen halls are languishing.

The theatre fraternity had openly come out in support of Poriborton. Now they are a disillusioned lot. In future, the plays of Badal Sircar will probably be watched more in translations outside Bengal than in Calcutta.

Last Month 

Calcutta Biriyani—arguably the best—is a favourite of political ­workers. Last month, there was a long queue at the Royal India Hotel in Chitpore, as they were packing biriyani boxes for local party offices.

Article first published in +OutlookMagazine Click on this to read

TAGS: #FOOD & #BEVERAGES,  ASSEMBLY #ELECTIONS,  SOCIAL NETWORKING SITES,  #LEFT FRONT,  #TRINAMOOL CONGRESS

What's Litfests got to do with reading books ?

Fashion Week of Thinking Socialites

Artcle first published in +DailyO India Today (Click here to read)

Heard the turnout at the Kolkata Book Fair was low this year. But, there was a rush for passes to the three Literary Festivals (Lit-fests) that have become part of the city's winter calendar for the last few years. Of course, the gentry of the lit-fests and the book fair were hugely different.

A few years back I earned the wrath of the luminous organiser of one of Kolkata's Lit-Fest - by calling it a "poor man's JLF". She was riled again this year –at my declining her invite (for which many were willing to give an arm and a leg) saying it is too "elitist" for someone as gauche as me. Being a dear friend I hope she will excuse me over time.

In our age of innocence  - the precarious cusp between school and college - we would go to the Kolkata Book Fair (then held in the Maidan - old Calcutta's equivalent of Hyde Park) for two primary attractions. First, it provided a good cover for meeting girls. Second was, of course, to browse and buy books. While the former was largely a feast for the eyes - the latter was indeed food for the soul. Later in life - when a bit older - was moved to see thousands of people of visibly modest means, who would travel miles in trains and buses from the suburbs to buy books. That they were genuine book lovers was painted on their faces - but those were the days when Bengalis could still afford to believe in "plain living and high thinking".

It is tiresome to repeat - today's generation hardly read and even those who do rarely visit bookstores - preferring the easier and cheaper option of downloading from the net. Knowledge is now consumed on-line - which, per se, isn't as bad as it is made to sound. Granted there are still many dinosaurs like me who love visiting bookstores – just for the look, feel and smell of books but our tribe is diminishing as fast as the Zoroastrian population of India. We too are increasingly turning to Amazon or Flipkart – for ordering books. But, Lit-fests have arrived as fashion shows for ‘thinking socialites’.

There is an emerging new genre of writers – who may be called the “Lit-fest” authors. Thy can be broadly divided into two categories. The first are established writers – who spend the recess between writing books attending Lit-fests. Then there are others who write only to be invited to lit-fest and mingle with the fashionable literati with champagne flute in one hand and cigarette in the other.

Be that as it may, there is definitely a growing market for such shows out there. Or else, Lit-fests won’t be sprouting like the infamous “Congress Grass” (parthenium) in every city from Bombay to Begusarai and Kolkata to Karachi without any apparent revenue model other than sponsorships. Some explain this as the “Cook-Book Phenomenon”. As eating out is the order of the day with cooking becoming almost extinct – more and more people are turning to reading recipes (and watch "Big Chef" on Television) for vicarious gratification of the dormant cook within them or, perhaps, assuaging a subconscious guilt.

There can be another hypothesis. As attention spans are shrinking in a digital age – reading books is increasingly becoming a challenge even for the born bibliophile. Increasingly, therefore, the talkative Indian is being seduced by the spoken word for intellectual stimulation. This, perhaps, explains the popularity of TV Chat shows and prime-time debates on News Channels. Lit-fests, probably, cater to the same appetite in more sophisticate settings and esoteric company.

Last year I happened to be in Jaipur towards the end of JLF. Truth be told – I quite enjoyed the experience not as much for the book reading sessions or panel discussions – but nursing a single-malt in the crackling weather listening to live band performances by motley groups of young musicians from different parts of the country. Quite a change from the Egg Roll, Fish Fry, Lemon Tea and Rabindra Sangeet routine at the Book Fair. I intended to return this - This year - despite but couldn’t make it much to my disappointment. Asked a friend in Delhi, who used to be a regular on the Lit-fest circuit – if she was going to Jaipur? She shot back indignantly “Me and Lit-fests? Oh they’ve become so passé now only the wannabes go for them”. Thought-fests (especially in salubrious Goa) are the place to be in these days - she told me.

While I was secretly relieved for having given it a miss – it set me thinking if Lit-fests yet another marketing fad - of publishers and event companies - that is going to blow over soon?

Ronju (Pradeep) Dutt - an uncelebrated legend

Pradeep (PK) Dutt - Guru of Marketing Gurus passed away in Calcutta

Article first published in The Economic Times (click here for link)

An IIT Kharagpur Civil Engineer - he landed at the Backbay Reclamation Office of Hindustan Lever for an opening of Marketing Manager - after changing some 7 jobs (as per his own count) including trying his hand in Transport Business (when he couldn't see his own face on the mirror at night - because of the malpractices in the trade). The great raconteur that he was - Pradeep Dutt (PKD to his colleagues and Ronju to friends) would regale young Management Trainees with the story (perhaps made up) of how the topic of group discussion at the HLL interview was "The Rising Trend of Mini-skirts" - when he stunned the panel by asking whether it meant "Mini-skirts were getting shorter, or more and more women were taking to wearing mini-skirts". This piece of witticism he claimed clinched the job for him among many MBAs in the group.  It is this touch of humour and large-heartedness that set him apart from many of his peers and protégées - some of whom went on to do much better than him professionally.

His rise at Hindustan Lever was almost meteoric. As they say success has many fathers - so while a lot of people claim credit for the launch of Liril Soap and Fair & Lovely - PKD had a major role in both. Though the latter ('FAL' as it was called in Unilever parlance) - is a "politically incorrect" product to talk of now  - PKD (in early 80s) proudly displayed in his room a letter of thanks from someone living in a remote Tamil Nadu village, who thought had it not been for Fair & Lovely his daughter would not have found a good match. From there, Pradeep Dutt went on to become the youngest ever Managing Director of Lipton India - sitting in their old Weston Street Office in Central Calcutta and was the lead player of the company's turn-around story.

It is at Lipton, PKD touched the lives and shaped careers of many. Always a bon-vivant - he was arguably the most magnanimous of the Lever's Marketing doyens - perhaps, with the sole exception of the legendary Shunu Sen. But, ironically, it was also at Lipton's PKD met his professional "waterloo" in the launch of Tree-top - a tetra-pack range of drinks - and '21' an Ice Tea clone - which were perhaps much ahead of their time. But, PKD had the old world leadership values of backing his lieutenants to the hilt - and then taking the blame upon himself if things went wrong - a quality that has gone missing in today's corporate world.

Around the same time - PKD lost his wife Padma to cancer - who was really the anchor of his life. It his from here that his personal and professional world began to fall apart. If one call it hamartia - it was the blind faith he had on colleagues and subordinates. This, many friends and admirers believe, was also the cause of his next professional setback in a multinational company - which he had to leave in a somewhat forgettable circumstances.

His later years were spent between Calcutta and Santiniketan (where he took pride in saying his regular rickshawallah also double up as a boot-legger) - until he sold of his house there. At Calcutta - he was a regular at the Clubs. Always surrounded by friends - he was never spared himself on food, drinks and cigarettes. But, that neither dimmed his wit or took the edge off his sharp marketing mind. Many former colleagues would turn to him for advice on Brands - which he would dispense freely. Anyone else in his place - would have made a fortune out of it. But, PKD was too proud to do that. The outpourings on Facebook - at the breaking of the news this morning is a testimony to the popularity of the man as was the large gathering of friends and associates at the crematorium.  One elderly gentleman who came for the last rites - was carrying a bottle of mineral water. A friend quipped - you haven't come to Ronju's funeral with just plain water but mixed some gin into it - else he wouldn't forgive you. That in a way sums up the man that was PKD.

notes from the road

Article first published in The Outlook Magazine, October 20, 2015 issue (click on this)


Also read : the Durga-Puja Index of Bengal Economy (click-here)

Green Shoots or Lotus Bloom in Bengal

[A PTI report says BJP’s membership drive has touched the 10 lakh mark in West Bengal]

In a recent Bengali film “Buno-Haansh”, a young boy from a middle-class home, that had seen better times – gets embroiled with a cross-border counterfeit currency smuggling ring.  In one scene, his Bangladeshi counterpart says:  “Had it not been for corruption on both sides of the border (Bangladesh and West Bengal) ordinary Bengalis like you and me would have starved to death”.  A telling comment on the economic condition of Bengal – lack of industry, employment and income opportunity.

A couple of weeks back I was travelling on the Darjeeling Mail to Siliguri. In the coupe were 2 young BSF (Border Security Force) Officers. One of them received a call from his base-station - reporting a skirmish at the border post the night before that could potentially flare-up. The train was running 5 hours late and he was troubled about not being able to reach the spot early. Even I was feeling holed up and bored. So we got chatting.

The young officers lamented – coming to the Eastern borders for them was like a “punishment” posting. In the Western frontiers the terms of engagement are clear and there is rarely any political interference or fall-out of actions taken in the regular course of duty. But, in the East everything is politically charged and “sensitive”. The high population density, close proximity of the settlements and diffused boundaries add to the complexity.  And, the buck stops with the security forces, which are always at the receiving end from all quarters – whether their administrative bosses in Delhi or local political goons.

In the cross-border transactions  that takes place – the locals are but small pawns. They act as couriers, herdsmen (for cattle) or mere facilitators – but their livelihood depends almost entirely on such illegal activities. The real people behind these operations are big fishes – businessmen and politicians who live many miles away - may be even in other parts of the country. For example, from the breed of the cattle one can easily make out  they are not local and transported from distant  Punjab, Haryana and Rajasthan in trucks across several inter-state borders – where they could have been easily intercepted – but no one does so  because it’s part of a large inter-state racket. The stakes in the cattle trade itself would be valued in millions of rupees. as imported cattle from India contribute significantly to Bangladesh’ GDP -  in  meat and leather trade both for domestic consumption and exports. Therefore,  any attempts to stop it is going to have huge economic,  political and even diplomatic repercussions and it is unlikely to change irrespective of whichever party is in power.

On illegal immigration – apparently agents have rack rates – from mere ration or election cards (now, probably Aadhar) to Passports. So much so, some ‘think-tanks’ believe it might be a better idea to issue “work-permits” to Bangladeshis to curb illegal immigration. But, either way they put further pressure on the already strained resources of the state – spawning more illicit business and, as some suspect, even terror conduits.

In the backdrop of such dire economic conditions – where there is very little value creation, if a Saradha did not happen it would probably have been invented. With rising cost of living and depleting income – the urban middle class and poor villagers were forced to liquidate inherited property and land.  Chit fund companies dipped into this fund – with the lure of unrealistic returns - duping them of their little remaining savings.

It is hard to believe two Finance Ministers of successive Governments - Ashim Dasgupta of the Left Front and Amit Mitra of Trinamool - both highly qualified Economists - didn’t see these scams taking place under their watch.  Young marketing executives travelling in rural areas were amazed to see army of collection agents employed by these Chit Fund companies to mobilize ‘deposits’.  Sucheta Dalal’s Money Life had carried a series of articles way back in – which was cited even in this humble blog.  (Read here) 

I agree with Mamata Banerjee on one count – that is, it’s not political parties alone that have benefited from the Saradhas of the world.  These Chit-Fund companies couldn’t have thrived without Media support and they were the main-stay of advertising for many local newspapers and TV channels.  For several years they were major sponsors of Durga Puja and Kali Puja in the state. So much so – they even reached out to the NRI Bengali community in overseas cultural festivals. Many ventured into film production as well.

But, undoubtedly most of the money went into political funding. If there are no Adanis or Ambanis – you needed a Sudipta Sen.  

So where does one go from here? Does the BJPs 10 lakh membership signify a new ray of hope? In ushering in Trinamool people also voted for change. But, after 5 years despondency has set in at least in urban Bengal.

When there is overall decline and decay – it’s difficult to isolate or insulate a few sections of the society from the rot.  Therefore, all institutions are beginning to fail. Once a centre of medical excellence – today a Bengali prefers to travel to Chennai, Vellore or Mumbai for treatment. Calcutta has long lost it pre-eminence in education and special trains are run to Bangalore and Pune in the college admissions season. The population of Bengali white-collar job-seekers has exponentially increased in other cities. One hears much more of Bengali on flights and shopping malls all over the country. Even in art and culture Bengal has long ceased to be in the forefront. The primary market for Bengal artists is also outside the state and abroad.

Calcutta has become a city of senior citizens. Youngsters who are left behind are wallowing in frustration and despair – many sinking into depression. Others either fall prey to nefarious activities like the protagonist in Buno-Haansh or join the gang of “tola-baaz” and local “syndicates” (hafta-collectors).

But, these very young  people when they  visit family members living outside Bengal or travel on vacations -  see how much the rest of India has moved ahead and long for a better life.  It is this sense of aspiration – especially of the younger generation – that Modi and BJP is trying to tap into.  But, whether this too turns out to be a chimera only time can tell.

For 40 years Bengal has chased a mirage. A senior journalist friend says Bengal politics has always been ruled by lumpens.  They only change their team “jerseys” from Red to Green and, which may probably turn to saffron in future.  In the 70s– when the “New Congress (Indira)” was on the ascendant there was a slogan  - “Chilam Naxal Holam, Nabo – Chakri Na Pele Abar Hobo “ (From Naxals – we have turned to Congress. But, if we don’t get the promised jobs – we will go back to our roots again).  So Green may change to Saffron – but only for a while if there is no economic regeneration. But, this time there will not be any more change in colour – the flower will just wither away and Bengal shall become a basket case beyond recovery.

Also read : Vote Bank Politics has come to stay in West Bengal

Article first published in @DailyO_ (click for link)

​ 

The Hakka Route

I was probably all of 3 or 4 then. Remember, the Sunday trips in our grey Morris Minor from Ballygunj to my "Mama'r Bari" in Shyam-Bazar. Abba - my father - would take the slightly longer route via Central (now Chittaranjan or CR) Avenue. On the way up we'd stop by - the now Chandni Chowk Metro Station - to pick up packed Fried Rice and “Chilly Chicken” from Chung Wah - for Amma (my Mother)’s kid sister Tukun – my doting Mashi-moni -  who loved "Chinese".

Chinese Dentist Association

Those were my first memories of Calcutta's Hakka Chinese. Hakka - I later learnt - means 'itinerant' (‘guests’ in the host country) – who migrated out of China. Thus there are ‘Hakka’ Chinese and ‘China Towns’ all over the world. Calcutta's Chinese date back to the late 18th century  and their original Chinese settlement (in Achipur) is believed to be one of the oldest - outside of China. The Chinese of Calcutta led a very insular existence – a Chinese teacher of my school compared themselves to the Amish people of the West. He took pride in claiming they are the purest “Hakka Population” in the world (excluding those in China, of course).

Today, by China Town one understands the locality called "Tangra" – close to the Eastern Metropolitan By-pass behind the ITC Sonar Hotel. But, Chinese Restaurants there are a relatively recent phenomenon. This was the area - where the Chinese had tanneries. The effluent of leather washeries (containing lethal amounts of carcinogenic Chromium)  would flow out into the sewerage grounds of Dhapa close by. A Supreme Court order forced the tanneries to shift out of the city – though many actually shut-shop. Simultaneously, the younger generation of the Indian Chinese started migrating abroad to Canada, Australia and New Zealand. Some moved to other cities in India – mostly in the restaurant trade. Those who stayed back in Calcutta discovered an opportunity – almost fortuitously - to convert the abandoned factories to restaurants, sauce and noodle factories.

Till the 80s, Tangra had just a few "Eating Houses" catering to the Chinese owners and staff of the leather factories. When in College - we would go on the occasional adventure in Motor Bikes for lunch to Tangra.

I wrote 'adventure' because Tangra was considered "out of bounds" for the Police and was notorious for crimes. The Opium dens still existed. One evening, I took 2 of my Mamas - Ajit (visiting from Allahabad) and Mukul - to buy dinner from Tangra for an "adda"sessions at our place. Though both of them were quite "dare-devil" (as the Bengali expression went) even they were rattled to see old Chinese Men smoking Opium under gas-lanterns in small shanties and shady characters hanging out. After that, their impressions about their pet 'Bhagne' sure slipped a few notches, but they decided to be discreet at home – afraid that Abba – known for his sharp temper - would blow his fuse hearing about places the son was frequenting.

The Eating Houses were run by the Ladies of the family. The drill was they started cooking only after you placed the order. The portions always had to be large - for example they would only make a full Chicken (usually bought fresh in the morning) as freezers weren't still common. While one waited - Beer or some cheap Whisky were on offer. The Menu was limited to Rice, Noodles (Hakka-Noodles - Chow mein ("Dry") or Chow-chow (with “Gravy"), Chicken and Pork. There were essentially 2 kinds of sauces – the Black Bean (Dark Soya) with onion, garlic and green-chillies or a red sweet and sour gravy with loads of Garlic. All items would have a generous dollop of corn-flour and a large pinch of Mono-Sodium Glutamate (MSG or aji-no-moto) . Fried shrimps balls or sometimes tiger-prawns would be an indulgence -when one was feeling rich.

Prior to this, the “original” or old China-Town was in Tiretta Bazar - the area lying between Bentick Street and the Police Head-Quarters at Lal Bazar on the West and Central Avenue Calcutta Medical College (close to the ‘Central’ Metro-Station – which should have been named old China-Town, if you ask me).

‘Nan-King’ in Phears Lane (which Bengalis thought was “Fears” Lane – as there was quite a bit of ‘fear’ associated with the area which ‘non-locals’  would avoid in the evenings) – was probably the first ‘proper’ Chinese Restaurant of Calcutta – dating back to early 1900

Nanking (Courtesy Rangan's Blogspot)

till it closed down in the 80s. The same area also had Kunga – Calcutta’s only Tibetan Restaurant, (will talk about it someday in my  ‘Momo-affairs’).

But, for the middle-class Calcuttans” Chinese meant Chung-Wah on Central Avenue and Peiping on Park-Street until Waldorf appeared on the scene in the late 60s.  Waldorf Food was slightly different from the “Hakka” cuisine and had a Cantonese touch to it. They probably used less of corn-flour than the regular Hakka cooking that was greasy and over-fried  and the sauces were sweeter – which I think appealed to the Bengali palate. For the middle-class Bengali – who could not were intimidated  by the snooty Skyroom, Blue-Fox or Trinca’s (even Flury’s wasn’t quite for the ‘junta’ – except their confectionery counter) – Peiping and Waldorf (and, perhaps, Kwality’s for North Indian or ‘Punjabi’) was as far as they could infiltrate Park-Street.

For us a trip to Waldorf was always an occasion – usually to celebrate some relatives’ Wedding Anniversary (generally from my Mother’s side of the family – her large bunch of cousins for whom she was the favourite ‘sister’) or when my ‘Santa-Claus’ Ajit Mama was visiting from Allahabad and would be badgered (by the same cousins) for a treat – which he’d succumb to after some initial (mock) resistance. On one of those outings, I remember (must have been 7 then ) my Mukul-mama announced Bulbul mami was pregnant. And, a few months later my dearest cousin Tushita was born.

Those days – one never had ‘clear’ soups unless you were sick or had an upset tummy. So people would get split into 2 groups – those who liked Sweet Corn Soup and – the slightly evolved among them – who would go the for more exotic crab asparagus soup (both heavily laden with corn starch). Similarly, there were Noodle lovers and the Rice lovers. It was always Fried Rice – no one would go to a restaurant and waste money on  steamed rice, which one had every day at home. The idea of enjoying the pristine subtle flavours of the food was alien (actually, it still is. Remember many years later I was ticked off by my father-in-law for ordering Steamed Rice at the Chinoiserie in Taj Bengal).

The standard order along with the Rice and Noodles would be Shrimp Balls (more like Pakodas) for starters, Chilli Chicken, Manadarin Sweet and Sour Fish, at times Chicken with Cashew-Nuts. Mutton and Pork - certainly not Beef - was not common on the Menu. The now ubiquitous Darsan or Date Pancakes hadn't yet arrived on the scene - so the meal would end with Vanilla or Tooty-fruity ice-cream with a Wafer wedge stuck on top - that was a primary attraction for the kids.

Vegetarian entrees were hard to find on a Chinese Menu. Credit for Vegetarian innovations should squarely go to Nelson Wang of China Garden fame in Mumbai – who introduced Chinese to the Gujaratis of Mumbai. ‘Veg Manchurian’ is believed to be his invention. The Marwaris of Calcutta were late converts to Indian Chinese.

For the affluent and higher echelons of Calcutta Society - The Chinese Room at the Great Eastern Hotel was popular. Have faint memories of going there only once - after the wedding of Mashimoni (Tukun) - for a dinner in the honour of the 'jamai' and the new "in-laws" by my Mother's Kaka-moni who was the head of my Mamar-bari family.

Chung-wah still exists - probably have changed hands several times - but now has been

converted to a somewhat seedy "cabin restaurant and bar" in the old wing and a sleazy Dance Bar at night in the Sooterkin (Prafulla Sarkar) Street section. But, they still make a mean Chilli Chicken (try the ones with bone - they use only spring chicken not the heavy broilers) and Fried Rice - tho' I wouldn't trust their Pork anymore. Waldorf (probably also with new owners) has now relocated to Russel Street
next to Sutton Seeds across Bengal Club. They run either a Hilsa or Duck Festival round the year - which I find a huge turn off and have never stepped into the place since they closed down their original place on Park Street.

The action has now shifted to Tangra and the "Tangra Style" restaurants all over the city and the more up-market Mainland China and Red Hot Chilly Pepper. But, still a few old gems - like Eau Chew and Jimmy's Kitchen  remain tucked away. But, what's most significant is "Chow-Mein" has become the national food of Bengal - perhaps only after Chicken-Egg Roll and Biriyani - available at every street corner and 
now, even on trains.

Amma’s Quick and Easy  Chilli-Chicken:

- 

 f            - 1 full dressed chicken (without skin) diced into small pieces (less than 1 inch);

-             - Marinate with Dark-Soy-sauce, ginger,  garlic and a sprinkling of corn-flour for                 30 mins - 1 hour;

-               Blanch (par-boil) with a little water and pat dry ;

-             - Deep fry  in boling oil (refined sun-flower) – add diced onion and green-chillies –             and some more soya-sauce with a pinch of MSG (optional);

-             - Serve hot;

 (Recipe can be adapted for fish and Duck – while Fish would require little time for marinating – duck needs to be soaked for 3-4 hours or preferably over-night in the fridge and more of pre-cooking than chicken) 

(to be continued - watch this space)

The Siliguri connection

Calcutta still manages to throw up a few pleasant surprises. Sealdah station was one of them. Was there last week to board the Darjeeling Mail for a team meeting at Siliguri (NJP). The new platform was so much more cleaner than Howrah. It’s far less crowded and even at the entrance one could find place for parking a car.

West Bengal is probably the only large state in the country that never had a second large urban center to boast of. Older District Towns like Burdawan, Behrampore, Malda had long passed into irrelevance. And, Bidhan Roy’s vision for creating alternate industrial centers and satellite townships (like Durgapur and Kalyani) to take the pressure off Calcutta – never fructified in the hands of successive governments.

Siliguri redeems this reputation to some extent – though’ more by default than anything else. Without any real manufacturing industry to boast of (despite the Left Front Governments half-baked attempts to create industrial zones such as Dabgram) and tea being on a decline, it has really thrived on dubious cross border trade through Bangladesh and Nepal.

But, it was nice to see some signs of economic resurgence. For a long time – The Sinclairs was the only livable hotel in town. Now, it has a smart new 4 Star – The Royal Sarovar. 2 large malls and multiplexes have come up. But, the real eye-opener was a 400 acre gated community – Uttarayan – very tastefully laid out over what once used to be a tea garden.

But, the Bagdogra airport is a shame. It’s the second of the only 2 commercial airport in the state and as the gateway to the entire North Bengal, Sikkim and Bhutan it has a sizeable traffic – a large number of them being foreign tourists. Now with the advent of the low-cost airlines – the number of flights have gone up exponentially. It has only one X-Ray Machine at the security and only 2 boarding gates. As it’s essentially a Defence Airport – commercial flights operate only around noon time – when it turns out to be a veritable mess – not entirely unexpected considering that Calcutta is only a shade better. The Dhaba kind of atmosphere and food in the airport cafeteria run by the Employees’ Co-operative (in true Marxist style) completes the picture.

The Darjeeling Mail itself was a nice experience. The AC I coach was one of the best I have traveled on - in recent times. New and well kept – the beddings were laundry fresh and the toilets in great shape. We were some 11 of us together crammed inside a 4 berth coupe – gorging on fried chilly chicken from Chung-Wah over Old Monk and Whiskey – followed by Kasha-Mangsho and Rooti.

The weather in Siliguri is still very pleasant in the evenings – slightly nippy but not sharply cold any longer. Just right for a grand meal of Chitol Maacher Peti, Mourola Maccher Chocchori, Chyapa Shutki’r bharta (sourced from a local restaurant called ‘Bong Connection’) in the open terrace - warmed up by generous doses of distilled spirits.

These are moments when you feel – life’s not so bad after all – even in an impoverished state. So you tell yourself – stop cribbing and enjoy what you have !!



Read related Blog: Gorkhaland Express (by clicking here)

The Loss of Innocence

This afternoon, I finally ended my extended affair with Fusun. It was an all-consuming experience lasting over several weeks. At the end of it, I am left drained and exhausted with satiety.

For those of you – who haven’t yet read Orhan Pamuk’s “The Museum of Innocence” (click here to read excerpts)– she is the heroine of the book and the subject of a tragic and obsessive love of the narrator, Kemal Basmaci – a rich Istanbulli playboy.

I discovered Pamuk a few years back with his – “Snow” – another riveting and haunting novel - which, I think, has been his most powerful book before this. As I don’t much care for historical novels – therefore, “My Name is Red”, for which he got the Nobel, didn’t quite appeal to me – though by all accounts it’s a masterpiece.

I think it was Kingsley Amis who said, writing is the ultimate form of telepathy. Through books thoughts are transmitted over time and space – and the author enters the reader’s mind. The Museum of Innocence is that kind of a book. It is almost maddening in its minutiae. He does not just invade your head but possesses it. Time and again thru’ its 532 pages, I have wondered if he’ll be able to pull it off – only to be surprised at being drawn inexorably to the next chapter as if in an hypnotic trance.

It is tantalizing in its Hemingwayesque simplicity of narration. There is a hallucinatory quality about the love story of Fusun and Kemal, painted against a rich backdrop of upper-class Istanbul society in the cusp of modernity (".... poised uncomfortably between modern and traditional attitudes to love and sex, with eros half out of his cage, but honour and shame still coordinating the perception of private conduct" as one critic puts it so beautifully. Inncocence, obviously, refers to virginity: "Kemal is happily engaged to Sibel .......who as he puts it – 'given me her virginity',...... and before long Fusun too has 'deliberately elected to give her virginity'.... and she vows not to sleep with another man - the deflowering is ominously juxtaposed with images of the Feast of the Sacrifice, with lambs being butchered on every corner of Istanbul" - James Lasdun, in The Guardian)

For me, the description of Istanbul in 70s and early 80s is not very unlike the Calcutta we grew up in - give or take a few years either way. Fusun’s family gathered around the television is so reminiscent of the good ol’ Doordarshan days. The art film scene of Istanbul could easily be compared with vintage Tollygunj of the same period. At some point, Kemal makes a remark : I had forgotten what I had forgotten (or something close to that effect). I was overcome by a similar feeling a few months back, when – following my Mother’s death – I was in Calcutta for one of the longest period of time in recent years. Chatting with visitors – friends and relatives – who were dropping by brought back a stream of memories (of people, objects and places) that I thought had had long ago slipped away from my cumulative consciousness.

Great literature – they say – teach us something about ourselves. Reading ‘The Museum of Innocence’ we recognize the shades of Kemal (or for that matter Sibel or Fusun ) in us. And like him, we too have nuggets of trivia and trinkets stacked in the attics of our brain – our own little Museums of Innocence.

"I would hate for it to be called a love story," said Pamuk in an interview. "The book is an exploration of how life treats us, how people, circumstances and geography — the chemistry of streets in Istanbul, for instance — change, and we mortals are left helpless as things go beyond our control."

Going by the graphic story-telling, it would be natural to surmise that, at least in parts, it is an autobiographical novel. Answering this - by now what has become a routine question for him at all Book Reading Sessions, Pamuk teases : “ Kemal is not Orhan, but then I can’t convince you that Orhan is not Kemal... (tho') the only similarity between them is that both "were having a good life in a poor country"( so true for the India you and I live in too). The challenge for a writer, we know, is to keep the reader guessing as to what is fiction, what is reality. That is the master novelist for you.

I am sure that, thanks to the publicity he got for the new woman in his life, Kiran Desai - there age difference - 57 & 38 - almost the same as that of Kemal and Fusun (click here). ‘The Museum of Innocence’ will out-sell all his previous books in India. Probably realizing that (or the influence of his girl friend) , Pamuk throws a generous smattering of India in to his book – such as the Tagore Museum in Calcutta or the Halal restaurant in Delhi. But, one thing’s for sure – after this Turkey will feature high on my list of places I want to travel to (just as, I belive, Goa has suddenly become popular with Turkish tourists after Orhan and Kiran have dropped anchor there to work on their respective new projects). May be I’ll go there in time for the opening of the Pamuk Museum

Read my takes on Amitava Ghosh' - The Sea of Poppies at "In bed with Ghosh" and "Sailing with Priyanka on the Ibis". Also Kunal Basu's - The Japanese Wife at Lady Canning Lives in Japan

muk Museum.

Nano Vision

Undoubtedly much of it is posturing. And, almost certainly a compromise would be reached. Buddhadev Bhattacharya has already indicated that there could be a re-worked R & R plan, the Tatas will – possibly – also up their compensation. Overall the stakes are too high for all constituents. The state government cannot be seen to let another committed investor go- away. The Tatas for all their tough talking have gone too far down to pull out at this late stage – especially without a ‘Plan B’ ready they not only have shareholders to answer to but also can’t afford a loss of face internationally by a delayed launch (who might question their ability to run the JLR operations overseas when they have trouble managing their own backyard at home ) and, not to mention, the risk of losing their first mover advantage with competition breathing down their neck with plans for launching similar products soon. Mamata Banerjee too won’t be able to bear the cross of driving away investment from the state (One hears that she has already sent some feelers to the government on what could be some possible alternatives). So, it is a reasonably safe bet to place on the Nano rolling out of Singur – albeit after some breathtaking brink(wo)manship.

Brand Buddha & Mamata's Kurukshetra

Out of all this the CPM’s image will take a further beating, ‘Brand Buddha’ would lose some more basis points and his starched white Kurta ( ‘Punjabi’ as the Bongs call it for some strange reason ) would look a wee-bit crumpled. And, whether the urban intelligentsia likes it or not, either ways, it would be a huge symbolic victory for Mamata which would raise her stock in rural Bengal – her chosen ‘kurukshetra’ against the mighty Marxists . But, the ultimate loser will be West Bengal. Even if the Government is able to avert a pull-out of the Tatas, this will be a huge set-back which will put all but a paid stamp on any dreams of having an industrially resurgent Bengal in the foreseeable future. Forget new investors – even existing industries, the Tatas included, would lose confidence and think twice as hard before increasing their exposure in the state. There is absolutely no question that, the Tatas would not put any more monies behind this plant – possibly reducing its dependence on Singur as they set-up a second manufacturing facility elsewhere – for which they already have open offers from other states.

Singularly Singur

I do not know the facts about the land-acquisition Therefore, I cannot and would not like to comment on whether the land holders were treated fairly and a just and equitable R & R plan had been put in place to start with. Though I have heard – seemingly logical - arguments even within well-informed and knowledgeable circles that, incursion into prime agricultural land could have – perhaps – been avoided, by reclaiming the vast stretches of industrial land along the banks of the Hooghly – now lying unused after the Jute Mills shut-down and Engineering companies relocated to other parts of the country. But, apparently – such an option was not acceptable to the Tatas as the cost of industrial plots (that would have to be purchased from companies and business houses who have been holding on to them as valuable real-estate) would have been much more than agricultural land acquired through a decree of the state government. And, they singled out Singur ( Buddha himsel had said this) of all the locations that were shown to them due to its proximity to Calcutta. Then, there is also a view that, the state has acquired more land than was actually required for setting-up the factory – ostensibly for the ancillary units that might come up near the plant ( so Mamata Banerjee’s 400acre argument may not be entirely unfounded). It also appears a little curious that, the Tatas - who are past masters of land acquisition (with experience of over a century across the country - including troubled spots like Orissa and Bastar) did not engage with the local communities ahead of commencing construction activities, as is there routine practice elsewhere. They were possibly lulled into believing - by the forceful re-assurances of the Chief Minister - that, the land would come to them on a platter. Be that as it may, any which way one looks at it, it is a dismal failure of the government to deliver what was promised - for a flagship investment in the state after years of industrial drought.

Mamta Bashing

While Mamata bashing would be popular both for the media and the cosmopolitan intelligentsia, I would argue that she couldn’t have been expected to behave any differently. Aren’t politicians genetically coded to fish in troubled waters ? Would the CPM have acted any differently had they been in opposition ? Therefore, I wasn’t surprised in the least to see on television yesterday – the ubiquitous Amar Singh suddenly turning up by Mamata’s side addressing a rally in Singur. So, did Buddha underestimate Mamata or was he simply being politically naïve – as people believe he was in Nandigram, where they say he was taken for a royal ride by his own party’s local satraps who misled and misguided him at every step ? I think that at both these places the CPM was victim of its own arrogance – assuming that the party machinery was all powerful and would be able to steam-roll over any challenges on the ground. But, stuffing ballot boxes in successive elections to secure a thumping majority is not the same thing as dispossessing farmers from their land – for a party whose credo has been built by selling the dream of securing land for the landless.

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Small isn't Bad

In many ways the very successes for which the CPM has been lauded during their three decades of uninterrupted rule in West Bengal has also been the cause of their undoing. First, it is not generally known that West Bengal is one of the best examples of a state where land reform has actually worked. Today, it ranks among the highest in terms of agricultural production among the states. With less than 3% of the cultivable land it accounts for nearly 8% of the country’s food grain production. It is number 1 in Rice and 28% of the country’s potato is produced in West Bengal – much of it grown in and around Singur. And, the biggest beneficiary of this agricultural boom has been the small farmer . West Bengal has become a case-study for the thesis - “Small is not necessarily bad”. With the exodus of industries in the 70s following the Naxalite movement and the natural demise of the Jute Mills, West Bengal has been converted into a primarily into an agrarian economy. Sadly some might say – but that’s the reality. The rise in per-capita income and the consequent increase in Purchasing power one has seen in the recent years have come essentially from the new-found rural prosperity. Therefore, displacement of the agricultural community – without providing alternate source of employment and income is bound to be a Herculean task. Who would have known this better than the CPM, which has thrived for decades on the politics of the land ownership? And, if Buddhadev Bhattacharya or his senior party colleagues didn’t anticipate this – then it can only be described as a monumental miscalculation of their collective leadership.

Either with us or against us

Secondly, West Bengal is almost unequivocally credited to be one state where Panchayati Raj is a reality. While critics my argue that – it was implemented with the sole objective of extending the party’s stranglehold to the village level and it is nothing but an elaborate machinery to ensure successive electoral victory through organized rigging – there’s no denying that grass-root democracy can be seen at work there unlike many other states across the country. But 30 years of rule does create a level of fatigue and an anti-incumbency factor. Besides, while industrialists from across the country – would unanimously vouch for “non-corrupt” credentials of the current CPM leadership at the state level, the same cannot always be said of their local leadership at the village, block or district levels. Instances of diversion of central grants and development funds are no longer unknown or exceptional, as evident from the changing life-style of many a local leader. And, a certain degree of totalitarianism is bound to have set in - with an " you are either with us or against us" attitude.

Shifting Battleground

It is these developing cracks in the CPM’s formidable armour that Mamata has been trying to exploit in the last few years. Recognising the growing disenchantment with the ruling party, she has intelligently shifted her battleground to rural West Bengal. Initially, she had tried to woo the urban elite by enlisting lawyers, doctors, retired bureaucrats and even generals into her ‘A’ team, but was quick to realize that these people were actually a drag on her fire-brand style and did not have the ability to garner votes. She also found that agitating over urban centric issues or getting embroiled in political equations at the Centre did little to add to her mass appeal or enlarge her vote bank in the political hinterland of Calcutta. Instead, she was better off taking on the Left in their own bastion. Much as everyone would like to deny it that, she has been making progress – may be inch by inch – as is evident from Nandigram, Singur and the recent Panchayat elections. She certainly ain't a Mayavati, but however eager her detractors may be to write her off as a misguided and spent force – she is also not going to disappear in a hurry.

Not in a Nano-second

So where does all this leave the Nano ? I believe the Tatas are faced with a Hobson’s choice. In an environment that has been sullied for good, the starting of the plant could just be the beginning of their troubled existence in the state. The CPM cannot undo in a Nano second what it has done over the decades in systematically purging the state of its industrial work-culture. And, Mamata wouldn’t do anything to help them either.