That time of the year

It is that time of the year. Again.

It is like I come back in January each year, to be enshrouded and whisked away by the pallor of gloom, ice, snow and dense fog in Toronto packaged by the wonderful winter; slave away like the true mongrel for a good eleven months, scrape away and save each holiday to pack my bags come December and wuff-wuff my way to India. The regularity of the above event now sort of scares me. I am no longer sure what part of this act is scary: the departure scene - the teary eyed mom who is going to see her son after a good 12 months, the sheer acts of folly enacted by my fellow-Indians that I have to brave over the next 3.5 weeks, the changes in Indian society and coming to grips with the unexpected there or the sheer gloom of facing the Canadian cold again after lapping up the sunshine in India. Maybe all of these. Maybe.

Even as I prepare for the tour come early December, things are jolting. I know the prep has started because old friends, acquaintances start to ping me about my arrival date. The people who never used to drink now want me to get them some Port wine, Glenfiddich, wine from the Niagara wineries. Never mind the fact that over the past 5 years, I have never visited the Niagara wineries, though it is a short drive away. Some of them plan to take me out for all-night parties. Now that one was a real cause for concern. Nightclubs were non-existent in the Kolkata I knew. Now they are everywhere, I hear of hookah-bars, these clubs are open through the night they say. Yawwwn. Man, don't Kolkatans need to sleep anymore?

Whatever happened to the good ole Kolkata winters? You would hear : "Baap re, ki thanda! Amar Maaphlar ta kothai go?" [OMG. Its really cold. Where is my muffler?]. Families would happily go to the chiriakhana - read, the Alipore Zoo, the boudi leading the charge, sternly issuing orders to the disgruntled husband carrying the food baskets, children following in their monkey caps.

Now as they say, nothing short of Diesel goes. Tommy is everywhere. The Alipore Zoo is for the dehaats. The cool kids cannot condescend below the open smoking patios and hookah spaces at the Cafe Coffe Day outlets. When they get bored there, they grab a Mac sandwich and head to Sheesha. A 4AM bed-crash followed by the 11AM hangover from the nocturnal adventure can only be cured by the early afternoon cuppa at Cafe Coffee Day and a mini-shopping adventure at the Forum mall. By then Madhuri is definitely beckoning in Dhak-Dhak style at the INOXes; Aaja Nachle, she says. The cool ones oblige. This is followed by a frenzied bout at the numerous fitness centers that have sprung up, like the chai dukaans used to in old Calcutta.

I realize that all I pretty much end up doing is opening and closing my mouth like a goldfish throughout my stay in India : partly due to surprise, more due to some kind of a predicament mingled with my own naivete. The only times I am really comfortable is either when I am quietly relishing the tea in one of the old tea stalls or in the comfort of my home. Will be honest that the pollution really does not help. I am not weak or fragile by any means, but the pollution does get to you at times. The rest of the times, I really don't know what to expect. Get honked out of your skin by an Accord razing everything to the ground, the spoilt brat coming and knocking a pile of CDs at a shop and not apologizing, people treating their elders like shit, idle guys ogling at any female form in their vicinity, the illiterate paan-dukaanwala video conferencing with his mistress over his E90 communicator etc....?

But it is that time of the year alright. And I am off to India.

Wish my readers a Very Merry Christmas. Hope to chime in with some thoughts once I land in India. In the meantime, please don't be naughty and don't do anything I wouldn't do ;-)