Kolkatawarped

Before my readers start to think I have been hijacked by aliens and whisked away to the remotest planet in the remotest galaxy fathomable or before my blog self-deletes in an extreme reaction to negligence, I thought I should take precautionary measures and write a Dus Posts or something like that. Nothing particular to chip in right now. All is right with the world. So lets go home to our dogs and tv's. If you are brave or still have time to spare, please continue to read.

It's been a week in Kolkata. Needless to say, things have happened. Depending on how you look at it of course. Brace yourself.

Jet Airways mnanaged to lose half my luggage from Brussels to Chennai. I had a rollicking time calling all kinds of Jet Airways staff, chatting with the Sonams, Monams, Rajivs, Rahuls. My luggage finally arrived at my door after 3 days, only after I threatened to gift it to Jet Airways.

Kolkata has definitely changed.

People have more cell phones now.

The girls are definitely cuter and more beautiful than ever before.

People are more sex starved. Just look at the New Year incidents all over the country. The number of women who were molested would shame anyone with even a mosquito's conscience.

Shah Rukh Khan is more popular. The new Aamir Khan look is starting to rear its butt slowly. Though they change their baal ka ishtyle , it is startling to see people say or sing Bum Bole.

I got an inkling of what indulgence can possibly mean in high society at the South Club. Felt like Lord Curzon alright, with the Shankars and Chottons serving me grand food and liquor while I caught up on Kolkata gossip, news and alerts, all things more delicately spun than a gossamer web and idly watched the tennis games across the sprawling lawns.

The Haveli Basants by Pandit Jasraj and the kritis and Raagams spun out by Dr.L.Subramaniam at the Jugalbandi concert transported me to a different universe. In particular the fusion between Hindustani classical sangeet and Carnatic music was mesmerizing. There is usually a one-to-one kind of a mapping between the hindustani classical Raagas and the Carnatic Raagams. I tried to complete the mapping in my own mind and ended up frustrated without any proper means of verifying them. The girl next to me kept murmuring on her cell phone in the initial part of the concert. I was finally forced to Shhh her midway, ticking her and the ghost talker off presumably. During the interval, she sought me out in the lawns as I blissfully sipped on my coffee and charged me with a "What do you think you were doing, Ssshh-ing me in that uncouth manner?" (in part English and Bengali). My response to her was that she could talk to me in Hindi, given her impeccable Bengali accent. Her reasoning was that she could have been in the middle of an emergency to be talking on her cell phone, so I the rodent had no business shutting her up. I had no resistance to offer. I simply listened to this highly evolved Being, that talked of manners and was apparently so deeply appreciative of hindustani classical music, belonging to the fairer sex, brandishing her slender hand adorned with a single choori, admonishing and chastising her Fabindia kurta-shirt as it played hide-n-seek with the Levis below, her eyes pouring scorn and blazing hatred at me. I stood still with my coffee raised in mid-air. When she was finally done, all I could muster was a one-word sorry, a smile and silence. I retired to my seat, trying my best to be unaware of the quizzical, sceptical, maybe even threatening looks that the other music and coffee lovers shot at me.

Three hours later, as the crowd made its way out of the auditorium at a painfully slow pace, someone lightly touched my arm and motioned me to the side. Same girl. Her turn to apologize. Apparently her chance to give me her mobile number too. (You can try convincing me good ole Kolkata is the same, but I am not gonna buy that ever buddy!)

Not your fault, S. But I am a jackass. I believe I make for a bad evening conversation-over-coffee mix. Really. In the meantime, am still pondering the relative merits and demerits of listening to evening Ragas Raag Bhopali or Marva as the Pandit ji advocated, versus Cafe Coffee Day conversations with a stranger.

Hmm.