Kolkata or Calcutta, and the role of pickles in airline security

4th May: Dibrugarh to Calcutta to Bangalore


Kolkata? Calcutta? The last time I was here it was called Calcutta which to me harks back to the days of the Black Hole, Viceroys and the old capital of India before it moved to the wide planned-streets of Lutyen’s New Delhi. I’m not sure which one I prefer. If Cassius Clay wanted to be called Muhamed Ali, that was his unwavering right, in the same way that the Bengalis can call their city as they see fit. To what extent a group of politicians can claim to represent the views of their people in this matter, is another issue. Various cities and towns on my route have changed names: Madras is now called Chennai, Cochin is Kochi, Quillon is Kollam, Alapey is now Allapuzha. Trivandrum has doubled its syllables to the near-unpronouncable mouthful of Thiruvanthapuram.

I landed in the early afternoon at Netaji Subhas Chandra airport, in Kolkata and sat in the cool air-conditioning of the airport, waiting for my flight to the south. Above me some letters line-danced across an LED display:

“The following items are banned from personal baggage
on all Indian Airline flights: knives, grenades, gas
canisters… pistols…machetes…chilly powder and pickles.”

It was a 4 hour wait for the flight from, Kolkata to Bangalore. So I found a comfy sofa lay, back on my rucksack and contemplated the role of chillies and pickles in airliner security. Nothing to do with putting it in the coffee is it?

11pm: I landed in Bangalore after an uneventful but delayed flight. In the Karnataka tourist Board office an official with a Gold Flake hanging out of his mouth said that all the hotels in Bangalore are booked up so he suggested I stay at a 5 star that night. Was this a likely story? Rahul Dravid, the cricketer is getting married today, but why would that cause all the hotel rooms to be booked up? After much discussion he found me a room for a tenth of the price, 600 “bucks” (“bucks” I learn today is a trendy synonym for “rupees” in India - initially I was flabbergasted at the perceived expense.)

The rooms at the Ram Bhavan in the busy City Market part of town are clean with white-tiled bathrooms and cable TV with more channels you can ever watch. I think the room next door is going to watch the Hindi movie channel at full volume all night. Mustn’t complain. The balcony has a good view of the central road, bustling with activity, a doom for jaywalkers – I can see a chahwala carrying a dozen glasses of steaming tea, balancing them on a tray and weaving his way through the crowd of autorickshaws, Ambassadors and Tata trucks like a circus act. Such skill. A blue scooter is whizzing by, with a whole family on board complete with carom board strapped precariously next to the spare wheel. By 10pm it’s all quiet except for some paan stalls, stray dogs and the crowd around the wine store, its metal bars ensuring the late night customers never get too friendly. Rahul Dravid has just got married and Bangalore is buzzing. City Market is a commercial area vibrant with noise and traffic with a busy bus station under a flyover, a mosque and lots of shops. At a food hall, I ate a crispy vegetable dosa.

Bangalore, India’s silicon valley, has beautiful planned streets, wide pavements with shade-giving flowery trees and an imposing state assembly which is an edifice of breathtaking beauty, It has a plethora of western shops, a Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Pizza Hut; there is a definite western feel to this place, which lends it more to Indian tourists, rather than foreign ones. To escape the noon heat I visited a café modelled on the London underground, with signs saying Oxford Circus and Charing Cross where I met its Sindhi owner and a Naga waiter. Later I went to the five storied state science museum which gives an insight in to science, Bangalore’s forte. Juxtaposed with its modernity is tradition, as Tipu Sultan’s summer palace is in the city too.