Days 15-16 KOLKATA, INDIA “Unexpected Riches”11-12 May 2014. It was once said that Britain was a nat

Days 15-16 KOLKATA, INDIA “Unexpected Riches”11-12 May 2014. It was once said that Britain was a nation of shopkeepers, a reference to the number of small-scale enterprises that covered the nation. It is clear to me however when walking around India that if at one time England did hold that mantle it is now an unfitting status. India is the real nation of shopkeepers. In a country of one billion people self-sufficiency is the ruling paradigm. Around every corner, lining all prominent promenades, India teems with the dukanwallahs which are the heart of this country. No hand outs here. In India you must rely on your own wits to prosper.I make this observation as I sit in the confines of a very middle class environment: a coffee house. Outside the shop sits a beggar, perhaps in her 80s. I pity her and spare her some change. The contrast of poverty against riches neatly, if not poetically, embodies the changing face of Kolkata from a poor state, to a prosperous one. Park Street, the Park Lane of Kolkata, is filled with restaurants catering for the well to do. There is a confidence here, a middle class revolution, which seems so far from the stories I had been fed of Kolkata’s erstwhile poverty. Attending Park Street’s McDonald’s for a cheeky box of chicken nuggets made me feel positively affluent.North of Park Street there is a sprawling district where one of India’s smallest minorities live: the Anglo-Indian community. This community consists of people both of British/European and mixed British/European and Indian heritage. Having read about them I was curious to see whether this community still survives. As I surveyed the streets however I was to be disappointed as I did not catch any glimpse of them. Maybe I would be lucky next time.As it had gone midday I didn’t want to lose any more time and headed for the Victoria memorial. On the way there I bumped into a man who was involved in teaching poor children to cook. He explained to me that I had come at the right time. If I had come 17 years ago I would indeed have seen the scenes of poverty that my my mum had warned me about, and which had led Mother Teresa all those years ago to dedicate her life to this city’s poor. In the intervening years the slums (he did not like this term) have been almost eradicated, and the poor mostly taken off the streets. He believed he had a duty to continue to help the children of those in need. He asked if I would mind making a £5 donation to purchase a new blackboard, which I was happy to give. He then gave me a hug. He said he would email me when they make the purchase of the blackboard. No news yet. Had I been conned again?The Victoria memorial is Kolkata’s preeminent building, cast as it is in white marble and surrounded my well maintained gardens. It was only completed in the 1920s. The inside had a good museum, and a very interesting section on the birth of Bengali intellectual and nationalist thought. It’s a shame that I appeared to be the only one actually reading the displays. Most visitors, overwhelmingly Indian, were satisfied with a five second glance at most displays. I wonder what West Bengal’s intellects of yore would have made of that?Following the Victoria memorial I briefly visited the city’s planetarium. The show was in Bengali (English had run out). Aside from not knowing was going on, it generally seemed a little boring. This was followed by a visit to St. Paul’s Cathedral. Like St John’s it caters to a now limited congregation. And the congregation was being led in a small side room by what might be described as new age evangelical Anglicans, with guitars, singers, hand waving etc. Traditionalists would be aghast. As someone who has enjoyed the Anglican songbook for as long as I have been a musician, I didn’t want to stay to listen too long.My evening meal was at Moulin Rouge (yes you read correctly). Complete with windmill in the front. The food (a meat dish) was rather disappointing given the price. As the meal had cost more than 500 rupees I rather missed the satisfaction I got the day before with my 60 rupee Kathi roll. There was however live music, a pianist and a saxophonist, which gave this otherwise disappointing restaurant some atmosphere.The following day was a sad day. It was Election Day in Kolkata, so most things were shut. I had made plans to visit a host of attractions such as the town museum, some religious monuments, Rabrindranath Tagore’s House, the street with countless book stores (College St.). To my grave disappointment all but one monument was open. This was the shrine to Kali, the goddess of destruction.The temple was a little remote so I made good use of the town’s efficient running metro system to get there. I’d rather not have gone. It seems to be an affliction amongst religious zealots to demand money when visiting a shrine. I saw money pouring into this site like nothing. The priest demanded 100 rupees, without notice, simply to pass the statue of Kali. When I indicated that I had no funds (not to mention that I am not Hindu), I was yelled at to give as much as possible. I felt a little relived that I was able to get away with giving him a mere 10 rupees and get out without having my head bitten off. As the heat was scorching, and the shops selling souvenirs plentiful, I was relieved to be out of this money trap.As I spent the remainder of the day disappointed in not being able to do things, I returned home and ordered room service. The election news was hotting up as this was the last day of India’s mammoth election and so I watched this and concluded the night. The next day I would move on to Bangladesh. -- source link

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