We landed about five hours ago in Kolkata, and the whole five hours has been an overwhelming barrage of sounds, sights, smells and tastes. This city is old, dirty, polluted, and noisy, but also amazingly rich in humanity, colors, and textures. Here you have to look beyond the physical manifestations on the surface. It's a very challenging and enigmatic place. Extreme poverty lives side by side with the Gap and Macdonalds. Middle class apartment buildings have barred balconies and stick and tarp hovels out front. The streets are filled with yellow taxis (Ambassadors, most very old) competing for space with rickshaws, men carrying buckets of stones on their heads from the ditch being dug for the electric line, horse drawn carriages, bicycles and mini cabs. The horns are honking constantly, and every vehicle changes lanes at least three times in any block. In fact, there really are no lanes, just a mass of metal, and human bodies all headed in one direction. It's clear there must be rules they are following, but I can't see them. Pedestrians scoot in between the vehicles and thread their way from one hole to another to cross the street. In a 45 minute ride through the city streets I think there were three traffic lights.
Vendors set up their wares on the street, vegetables, chai stalls with little clay cups that the drinkers toss on the street when they're finished. Stalls selling roti, dal, samosas, papas and other dishes I don't recognize. A cow stands eating from a pile of street garbage. This is Kolkata. As I close this post, I am listening to the evening call to prayer from a nearby mosque. Although Kolkata is largely Hindi, there is a fairly significant Muslim population as well.
All of this clamor and dirt is especially palpable because on the flight in some of us, including me, were bumped up into first class on Jet Air. We had china, silver cutlery, incredible food and damask tablecloths. To step from that luxury to witness the mass
es here who have nowhere to sleep except the streets was a jolt.
Vendors set up their wares on the street, vegetables, chai stalls with little clay cups that the drinkers toss on the street when they're finished. Stalls selling roti, dal, samosas, papas and other dishes I don't recognize. A cow stands eating from a pile of street garbage. This is Kolkata. As I close this post, I am listening to the evening call to prayer from a nearby mosque. Although Kolkata is largely Hindi, there is a fairly significant Muslim population as well.
All of this clamor and dirt is especially palpable because on the flight in some of us, including me, were bumped up into first class on Jet Air. We had china, silver cutlery, incredible food and damask tablecloths. To step from that luxury to witness the mass
es here who have nowhere to sleep except the streets was a jolt.Beggers are everywhere. Many times with children or babies. It's hard to pass them by, but many of them are 'working' for an organized system and get very little of the money they collect for themselves. Taking pictures seems voyeristic, but I did want to document some of what I am seeing. For the most part, I have tried to take photos from a distance with the zoom, and from behind a 'shield' of some kind. As a group and individuals we are donating to NGOs like Mother Theresa's and Kolkata Rescue where we can be surer that the money will actually get to the people who need it.
M
No comments:
Post a Comment