Have been putting off a much needed visit to the College Street for quite sometime now.
I made it today. Am glad I did.
I haunt posh book stores of the city, sniffing crisp new pages for print fragrance, for newness. Like all book lovers, I like the smell of books hot off the press. I like to feel the stiffness of hard-bounds. As much as I like to caress the smooth gloss of the paperbacks with my fingers.
Sometimes I don't buy any books at all. I stand staring at the titles longingly. Or I sit, leafing through the pages, reading the beginning, allowing myself the luxury of spending an impolite number of moments on the small wooden seats meant for serious readers. Someone would courteously clear his throat, making his long-standing presence felt. I would mumble a quick "Sorry, please take this seat, I was leaving anyways" and rush to the exit. Of course, sometimes I go overboard with a spending frenzy and pick out all those books that have been reviewed and recommended by critics and friends alike. And then there's Flipkart, of course.
So why College Street? You must be kidding right? Who would jostle with unkempt teenagers? How would you barely keep out of old-book sirens trying to clutch at you? Plus there was prior warning of an anti-rape protest march from College Square to the Esplanade. On top of that today was the day of the big fight - mission Derby - between East Bengal and Mohun Bagan. Truckloads of yellow-red and maroon-green jerseys were already yelling and waving their way through toward the YuvaBharatiya Krirangan. Another iconic match to launch a spate of hot debate between the bangals and the ghotis - both claiming athletic and then by natural progression, cultural superiority. Undaunted by all the obvious deterrents, I pushed myself to take the trip. And lo, I landed myself right into a students' union demonstrating against an apparent anomaly in the recruitment exam of teaching staff.
You may imagine the scene. Rather I urge you to.
Students in white and black uniforms emerging with patient looking mothers from the heritage Hare School, un-uniformed ones from the legendary Presidency College. Angry people's rally in protest against Government inaction in various social/political spheres. Book distributors sending out cartons of their ware, bamboo carts carrying exercise copies and books suddenly jutting out of serpentine by-lanes and alleys that comb out of the main road. Book sellers crying their lungs out, calling every didi and dada to try out the worn out but precious old copies. Book buyers haggling over second-hand titles, Kolkata police wielding their batons in mock fierceness, young lovers walking hand in hand in complete oblivion of their whereabouts, groups of youths laughing with the sun in their eyes. Tram-cars, buses, taxis all almost threatening to run pedestrians over. Traffic snarl orchestrated and punctuated with all sorts of high and low pitched honks. Fruit vendors cutting open natural freshness for regular patrons. A daab-walla in a lungi deftly beheading coconuts and handing thirsty customers one each, making a neat little mountain of the husks by the road side.
Standing there for a moment in the bustle, I felt I have been cheating on who I am. I was once of this bunch, this breed. Hounding Saha babu for rare copies of "xeroxed editions". I was once that girl who didn't mind squatting on the footpath and getting her hands all dusty with second-hand treasures. Or sniffing old yellow pages imagining the hands they have passed through, fingers that had lovingly held onto those books once, eyes that must have moistened at the time of parting, for a few bucks. Or that girl with a pony tail, scooping the flesh out of a green coconut, even after the water was all over. She was all eager to squeeze out every little joy of life in jeans.
I am not much different now, but the places I look for joys have changed. It is nice to have roots. Memories to go back to. Old paths to travel once more. Like I did today. Maybe I can never go back to where I was - once upon a time. But a visit now or then never hurts, what do you say?
I made it today. Am glad I did.
 |
| The College Street Coffee House |
I haunt posh book stores of the city, sniffing crisp new pages for print fragrance, for newness. Like all book lovers, I like the smell of books hot off the press. I like to feel the stiffness of hard-bounds. As much as I like to caress the smooth gloss of the paperbacks with my fingers.
Sometimes I don't buy any books at all. I stand staring at the titles longingly. Or I sit, leafing through the pages, reading the beginning, allowing myself the luxury of spending an impolite number of moments on the small wooden seats meant for serious readers. Someone would courteously clear his throat, making his long-standing presence felt. I would mumble a quick "Sorry, please take this seat, I was leaving anyways" and rush to the exit. Of course, sometimes I go overboard with a spending frenzy and pick out all those books that have been reviewed and recommended by critics and friends alike. And then there's Flipkart, of course.
So why College Street? You must be kidding right? Who would jostle with unkempt teenagers? How would you barely keep out of old-book sirens trying to clutch at you? Plus there was prior warning of an anti-rape protest march from College Square to the Esplanade. On top of that today was the day of the big fight - mission Derby - between East Bengal and Mohun Bagan. Truckloads of yellow-red and maroon-green jerseys were already yelling and waving their way through toward the YuvaBharatiya Krirangan. Another iconic match to launch a spate of hot debate between the bangals and the ghotis - both claiming athletic and then by natural progression, cultural superiority. Undaunted by all the obvious deterrents, I pushed myself to take the trip. And lo, I landed myself right into a students' union demonstrating against an apparent anomaly in the recruitment exam of teaching staff.
You may imagine the scene. Rather I urge you to.
Students in white and black uniforms emerging with patient looking mothers from the heritage Hare School, un-uniformed ones from the legendary Presidency College. Angry people's rally in protest against Government inaction in various social/political spheres. Book distributors sending out cartons of their ware, bamboo carts carrying exercise copies and books suddenly jutting out of serpentine by-lanes and alleys that comb out of the main road. Book sellers crying their lungs out, calling every didi and dada to try out the worn out but precious old copies. Book buyers haggling over second-hand titles, Kolkata police wielding their batons in mock fierceness, young lovers walking hand in hand in complete oblivion of their whereabouts, groups of youths laughing with the sun in their eyes. Tram-cars, buses, taxis all almost threatening to run pedestrians over. Traffic snarl orchestrated and punctuated with all sorts of high and low pitched honks. Fruit vendors cutting open natural freshness for regular patrons. A daab-walla in a lungi deftly beheading coconuts and handing thirsty customers one each, making a neat little mountain of the husks by the road side.
Standing there for a moment in the bustle, I felt I have been cheating on who I am. I was once of this bunch, this breed. Hounding Saha babu for rare copies of "xeroxed editions". I was once that girl who didn't mind squatting on the footpath and getting her hands all dusty with second-hand treasures. Or sniffing old yellow pages imagining the hands they have passed through, fingers that had lovingly held onto those books once, eyes that must have moistened at the time of parting, for a few bucks. Or that girl with a pony tail, scooping the flesh out of a green coconut, even after the water was all over. She was all eager to squeeze out every little joy of life in jeans.
I am not much different now, but the places I look for joys have changed. It is nice to have roots. Memories to go back to. Old paths to travel once more. Like I did today. Maybe I can never go back to where I was - once upon a time. But a visit now or then never hurts, what do you say?
 |
| A tramcar on the Mahatma Gandhi Road, where the College Street ends |
Thanks for pointing me to your blogs. Excellent writing and I enjoyed reading most of them. How are you doing these days? We've settled in a 3BHK condo named Upohar, located behind Peerless hospital. Kind of enjoying the social scenes at the clubs. All in all, life's good in Kolkata. Stay in touch. :)
ReplyDeleteMy tryst with the bookstalls of College Street goes back to the three odd years i spent during my postgraduation at Calcutta Medical College. I too have very fond memories of jostling with jaywalkers in an effort to look for books -academic or otherwise..What amazed me about the College Street collection of books was the availability of anything u could ask for. It used to be an ideal destination for the rarest of rare books,old or new,and that too at discounted prices . A little further down was Muktaram Babu Street and Thonthonia kalibari,by the side of which was the UCM office . This was where i used to.walk down from College Street with a collection of books to facilitate my thesis work. Its good that on reading this those fond memories have once again fleeted back! College Street had an aura of its own years back.and will hold its own in years to come!
ReplyDeleteMy tryst with the bookstalls of College Street goes back to the three odd years i spent during my postgraduation at Calcutta Medical College. I too have very fond memories of jostling with jaywalkers in an effort to look for books -academic or otherwise..What amazed me about the College Street collection of books was the availability of anything u could ask for. It used to be an ideal destination for the rarest of rare books,old or new,and that too at discounted prices . A little further down was Muktaram Babu Street and Thonthonia kalibari,by the side of which was the UCM office . This was where i used to.walk down from College Street with a collection of books to facilitate my thesis work. Its good that on reading this those fond memories have once again fleeted back! College Street had an aura of its own years back.and will hold its own in years to come!
ReplyDelete