Kolkata

The Streets of Kolkata

After a two-hour flight from Delhi we arrived in Kolkata, located in the eastern region of India. The climate is tropical and the weather is hot and humid. Kolkata is the former capitol of India and flourished during British rule. The architecture style reflects the British influence. In the section of town where we are staying, it reminds many of us of New Orleans.
As you ride down the streets you notice the many corners and alleyways. Human life is crammed into this bustling metropolis. Life is the streets. People live on the streets, eat on the streets, hang out and even sleep here. To the westerner it seems like a world apart yet the common factor is that we are all human beings living day-by-day, trying to be productive, feed our families and perhaps just survive to see another day.

Shopping in the Market
In the evening we ventured to New Market, which runs for many blocks just behind our hotel. It is easy to get lost in the labyrinth of vendors and shops. You cannot walk without someone approaching you. “Come here mam, please look mam”, “We have the best prices.” “Please mam, Please mam.” It is difficult to shop without 3 or 4 people vying for you to buy their wares. If you step into a shop you are inundated with the shop owner showing you every piece of clothing he has. They are relentless in their pursuit to get you to buy something.

A quick turn takes you off the street and down dark and smokey alleys. Here is the soul of the market where people work in tiny booths sewing, cooking, hawking their wares and hanging out. This is where the lower class of Kolkata would come to do grocery shopping or get something to eat. Most food is displayed in the open. Cooking is prepared and cooked on small gas burners right on the ground. Incense permeates the air, which covers up the stench of human life pressed tightly together in close quarters. Among the tiny rows of wares are animals, children, beggars, the handicapped and lame and those for whom life seems so fragile. Everyone wants you to help and there is just not enough to go around.

At one shop, children pressed in close as a man handed out handfuls of food. I inquired and a handful of food was placed in my hand. It was a sweet-tasting rice with raisins. While it tasted good I tried to be polite and wait until I was down the street to throw it away. I ended the evening with a purchase of some silk scarves, not before seeing every single one that the man owned.