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Kali Ghat in Kolkata with its many temples will remain for me a dense conglomeration of scared spaces. An intertwining, overlapping mesh of invisible fields of energy dense with centuries of folklore of legendary ascetics, their gods and their devotion. And you as a lay person you will not see any of that. What you will see is tiny streets crammed with shops selling everything from flowers to idols to jewellery and temple and pooja (prayer) accessories cheek by jowl with homes and mini temples. Temples filled with many idols of hindu golds of various sizes and histories. You will see idols on the river banks, below trees and all have their share of worshippers. And if you even have an eye if not the knowledge of the stories that make this place, you will see interestingness. You will see people alive with a gentleness and a sense of humour and a genuine warmth. This might entirely have everything to do with your genial host who is a regular on those streets. But you will never know. 

Dithi Mukherjee. I will be forever indebted to this artist who showed me Kali Ghat through her souls eye. We didn't speak much about Kalighat before or after we went there, but I know this place informs, nurtures and nourishes the space from which she creates.
This post is in a way many stories, but each of it is a facet of Kalighat - some fascinating, some funny, some profound, but all of it enriching and visually stunning.
This is what drew me to the place - the walls that are alive with the folklore of the Goddesses. Kolkata is a land of artists and devotees and while the rest of India in waking up newly to street art, this place has owned this genre of work in its own way a long time back.



" At Mayerghat, I noticed four murtis depicting the mythological couple, Savitri and Satyavan. These idols receive offerings of bright red kumkum (pigment powder) and prayers from married women seeking the longevity and well-being of their husbands. " You can read more about Kalighat and the Satyavan Savitri story here.

 Talking of what awaits you round a street corner, we were met with this sudden commotion and we stopped to see this little lad, wearing a hibiscus garland and sitting in the lotus position, on seeing us and other bystanders, an entire basket of hibiscus and incense appeared.
 And someone started chanting a Kali prayer. Where upon the boy seemingly went into a deep prayer mode.


From there we passed through the bazaar which sells all kinds of brass lamps, plates, from little brass thrones to kumkum, anything at all to do with Hindu prayer rituals, you name it they had it.





We walked into an open home - this could be a temple, infact it was a temple, just that people lived in this temple. Each of them old. We walked into see that in front of a large idol of Durga, the old old priest was in conversation with a couple and the lady was in the middle of a meltdown, we could not hear what was happening and it seemed impolite to look, so we focussed on the outer area where on the left was a cluster of idols of Puri Jagannatha and many other idols. There was a profusion of hibiscus or lal joba, which is a chosen flower of worship in Kolkata.

Kali ghat was a name I had heard since childhood, what was it famous for if you ask me I can't quite put my finger on it, but the associations were that of mystical roots, of culture, of real oldness and real history, I associate stories about mystical saints and ofcourse Kali the goddess and that it is a ghat, which means a bank of a river. And with Dithi Mukherjee calling it her favourite part of the city, to say I was looking forward to seeing it was putting it mildly. Kali ghat was all of the above. But more than anything else it was alive, in a way few other places are. It was alive with activity, it was alive in its happy interested and interesting people. Alive in all the little many many temples dotting the street, so much so that that there was hardly difference between a shop and a temple. So happily and easily would the locals sit in front of 100 year old deities and idols and make conversations. Astrology was a thriving business, and below age old trees were more open air temples where people performed poojas. If living in a city like Mumbai tricks you into thinking that religion is not central to an Indian's life, a few hours spent in Kalighat can change that. Amid tea sellers and shops cleaning and gearing up, kali ghat was waking to another busy day.

 Sindoor is big business here. Kali loves red and she loves them in all shades.

It is prasad, what you offer to god and she offers back. And it is what you wear in your hair parting, signifying your marriage.

 We were drinking tea & we saw this happening right next to us.

 Kullar Chai, is essentially tea in an earthen cup. Disposable. Eco friendly. And traditional.

 If Sindoor is big, then Laal Joba is bigger. As we walked around the tiny streets crammed with shops, we saw many shops selling Laal Joba which is offered to the goddess. (If you are curious to know more about this flower and its significance in worship, this beautifully written post by Dithi is all you need to read)

 

Sindoor in all forms, in every kind of packaging.

 Like how can this man look at me taking his picture with this expression? He doesn't even know me. I was realising this is a special place.

He went home, and turned into a passage that was nothing short of stunning. It has the Puri Jagannath painted on its walls. And he came out with his accessories, incense, bells.

 And here he gets into his act. In all sincerity.

There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. - See more at: http://www.awakin.org/read/view.php?tid=255#sthash.GwJvJkRQ.dpuf

There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. - See more at: http://www.awakin.org/read/view.php?tid=255#sthash.GwJvJkRQ.dpuf

There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. - See more at: http://www.awakin.org/read/view.php?tid=255#sthash.GwJvJkRQ.dpuf

Bengal and Calcutta or Kolkata as it is now called is a place I have wanted to go to forever. The people I met who came from there were a large part of the reason. Unfailingly brilliant conversationalists, intellectuals, liberals all. Another reason was the many bengali films seen at various film festivals over the years. We are speaking of the land of RabindraNath Tagore, Satyajit Ray, RamaKrishna Paramhamsa, Vivekananda, Chaitanya MahaPrabhu, Raja Ram Mohan Roy, Jagdish Chandra Bose. I know this is now reading like a history textbook. But there is no way one can speak about Bengal and not speak of history, so illustrious is their heritage and so sizeable is that single state's contribution to original thinking be it in any field. I was just so curious. And to be there during their famed Durga Pooja is any travellers or experience junkie's dream. Another very important reason to go to Kolkata was also to meet my long time virtual friend and artist extraordinaire Dithi Mukherjee. I have watched with admiration her art grow from strength to strength and evolve to a degree that spoke of deep dedication and an undeniable inner light.  

I was not sure how to even begin making a post of the what went on to be a some of the most deeply enriching  and nourishing days spent this year. So here is the 1st generic post about Kolkata, visual impressions, a quick cleaning of feet in the soil of Kolkata before stepping into the experience that Durga Pooja is.

 And so I reached Kolkata, to be met at the station by Chandi Da, Dithi's trusted driver. And Chandi Da was one more reason to make me fall in love with this place, such was his quiet enthusiasm in describing the city to me. And through my days in Kolkata, it was Chandi Da who drove us through the winding streets of North Calcutta with masterfulness. Please do not be surprised if you hear of various anecdotes about Chandi Da in the subsequent Durga Pujo posts, you have all been duly introduced to him.

 All one had to do was look up. This brand of crumbling old world beauty was everywhere. Every turn of the road, Every gate that opened seemed to be a story waiting to be heard.

 This city has its quirks. On a busy street where there is hardly enough place for people to walk suddenly on the roadside springs up mini shrines of Gods and goddesses. Some are mobile shrines like the one shown above on a cart or a make-shift table. So people are going about their business and some people bow down  and pray religiously to these gods with people walking all around them. Now one could argue that this was so typical of India, but everything that is typical of India seemed to jump out at you and say "Look at me, I am real" in this city.

 Kalighat was an amazingly alive experience filled with the most interesting people. But that is another post.

 My trip was made by the many many beautiful old people who lived in their beautiful old homes, who have earned many a wrinkle with a life well lived.