Unprecedented Nostalgia
On a mundane morning with specifically no plans for the course of the day, I set forth to explore the old and colourful streets of Creek Row in North Kolkata. I had no route mapped out. The first rays of the sun had just awakened the streets decorated with century-old houses built with features borrowed from the British architecture.
The streets of Creek Row were lined on both sides with buildings painted in bright shades of green, blue, mauve, pink and red with large porches and unlit lanterns hanging in big verandas. Some of the buildings had vintage cars peeping out of an exorbitant portico. Intermittently placed between the lavish and cosy-looking houses were uninhabited crumbling buildings, with broken window sills and cracked walls, which seemed like a menagerie of insects and reptiles.
The streets in the area were not linear and structured. It fragmented into innumerable narrow alleys and by-lanes resembling a rather complicated maze. As it was dawn, the serpentine lanes were mostly empty except for a few middle-aged men and women strolling in their sneakers for their routine morning walks. An aroma of freshly bloomed flowers drenched in dew hovered in the air. Few children neatly dressed in uniforms were pacing with their heavy school-bags and drooping shoulders to board the school-bus on time.
As I wandered through the criss-crossed lanes, I came across a surprisingly narrow lane which was said to be built during the Naxalite Uprising in West Bengal which raged the streets of Kolkata during the 1960’s and 70's. The lane was lined with old bricks tinted with a hue of rusty brown. The width was hardly enough for a single average-sized man to pass through it at a time. There was no space for another person to pass by from the opposite side. Digging up history, I learnt that these lanes were designed to trap policemen who chased Naxals- especially University students who participated in the revolution for peasants’ liberation. The fugitive would lead the police into the lane and trap him from both sides with the help of other Naxal accomplices.
As I entered the slender lane, I could feel the walls pressing against my shoulders. When I was halfway through this extraordinary lane, I was trapped by an old man coming from the opposite side. He was dressed in white with a small jute bag, presumably heading towards the morning fish market. He seemed rather startled with the unexpected encounter! I stood there for about 5 seconds, trying to find a way out. After about a few more seconds of awkwardness, he explained in an informative yet polite tone that people using the lane shout from end to end to avoid such unpleasant encounters. I courteously walked back, the old man following behind till the point where I began. After he was gone, I shouted out a signal and ventured into the lane, this time successfully making it to the other side.
When I returned home for breakfast, I reflected on my mini-trip to an old part of Kolkata which has been carefully preserved. I discovered that I walked through lanes which are marked by glorious historical events. A sepia-tinted halo embraced my thoughts- It made me nostalgic about a time which I did not inhabit and had no tangible access to!
