PiKU

It's Christmas and I spent a lovely afternoon watching Piku. Long ago, my aunt watched this movie in a theatre with her son and daughter-in-law, and then telephoned me and said that Piku reminded her of me. This was around 2014, I think. I was so amused that I don't remember asking her what specifically made her say that from seeing the movie. Strangely, I never got around to watch Piku back then. Today was one of those holidays when a movie seemed to be a cosy choice for a lovely December afternoon.

Calcutta exudes such a raw charm in the movie. I am just back from the city too. It was cold and wintry and raining for all the four days I was there. We took a short road trip through the city and onto the suburbs, 65 km from Howrah. It was 4:30pm and the skies were losing their light while the air began to get chilly. I feel like I hovered over myself now that I remember the visuals from the journey. Even today, when I close my eyes, all I see are the yellow cabs, red brick decaying facades, green lush foliage, Bengali font and the smell of the air. There was a certain wistfulness in its air. Strangely, I felt so calm and at home when I was there. It was as if I had always belonged to that place. One morning, I went for a walk. It had just rained and was still drizzling during the walk when I started seeing a world away from the one I experience in Mumbai. It was so refreshing and although the scenario of some mud thatched roofs and creepers encasing cast-iron balconies sounds romantic, here it felt like an ancient landscape. Everything was either grey, red, yellow or ageing with chipped stones.

I forgot to capture so many visuals with my camera. It was so striking at first sight that I couldn't take my eyes off my surroundings. I also feel that photographs do less justice here but then it was a very cold evening. It gets dark at about 5pm there. And the mornings started brightly at 5am. It felt surreal to go sleep at a time my eyes didn't want to and then wake up as soon as the chirping and people noises started colouring the day. 

One of the nicest memories that I have formed of this city is in its tranquil pace. Strolling around layered with warm clothes, wide-eyed smiles from passersby because yes, that's how different we look by our relaxed walk and curious faces. But then, everything there seemed so relaxed. The chatter of Bangla tongues, fresh air, less honking, all seemed so old world. I kept perking my ears whenever I heard Bangla music on streets. The bus I took one day to Park Street was tuned in to their local station which was playing some old Hindi songs which I happily hummed to. It was an unparalleled joy that spread warmth and a sense of kinship for this city. 

I hope to go back again someday and stay for a longer duration, become PiKU and intermingle in their market places, streets, golgappa stands, local trains and trams. Till then.