Only recently have I realised how much I truly appreciate Kolkata. I’ve spent the last week or so exploring the city’s cultural nooks and crannies; visiting the Centre of International Modern Art (CIMA), the Academy of Fine Arts, the Birla Academy of Art and Culture and several independent galleries scattered across Kolkata. In discovering some exceptional Kolkatan based artists, I very much understand why India heralds this city as its cultural capital. The art scene is reported to be superior to that of Delhi, and even Mumbai; demographically speaking however this shouldn't be the case! With it's strong industrial origins, vibrant art community and friendly people, Kolkata kind of reminds me of Glasgow a little; it's generally snubbed by tourists and commonly misunderstood for lacking sophistication. However they both exude a certain charm that is quite beguiling.
On Friday, I visited the Birla accompanied by my fellow art enthusiast, Nyasha. It's pretty difficult to get to; nowhere near a metro station and I'm still not entirely familiar with the bus routes, so we jumped in a taxi. Taxi journey's feature a large part of getting from A to B in Kolkata, so I've experienced my fair share of bolshy drivers and 'pimped out' cabs. However without a doubt, I believe that our experience on Friday takes the biscuit! Wehauled ourselves into the back of the cab; hindi trance blared from the 'subwoofer' speakers; a miniture shrine to Shiva was superglued to the dashboard, draped with banana flower garlands and psychedilically lit with neon shades of green and pink ; insense burned from the drivers open ashtray, filling the whole car with a fragrant smoke - "No wonder he needs a fire extinguisher" Nyasha laughed as she pointed to the shiny red canister. In tempo with the quick paced music we sped across Rashbehari Avenue. The driver sat hunched over the wheel, bobbing his head and mouthing the song's words with a cigarette stuck to the inside of his top lip, while careening through side streets, hitting 60. It was pretty exhillerating - I'm not sure whether my judgement was impaired by the heavy bass, however my witts were about me when he inevitably (like every other Bengali taxi driver) tried to rip us off.
The highlight of the evening was without a doubt, our stroll through Salt Lake Gardens sampling food from some of the dimly lit street stalls. I was introduced to the cullinary delight which is Putchka. A combo of potato, coriander, chick peas and spices, stuffed into a pastry puff dipped in masala water is a pretty lame description and to be frank does not do it justice. I wonder if you can get it back in the UK? If not, then I may have to take the liberty of pioneering my own Putchka food stall at home. What a perfect fast food that tantalises the taste buds in every level. It's friggin ingenious, in fact a pat on the back to it's founder.
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