An Imperial Legacy- First Impressions of Kolkata

We arrived in this city travel-weary and unprepared- unprepared for the dreariness that seems to infect a lot of lives in this sprawling Indian megacity. When I imagined Kolkata (Calcutta), I pictured tight streets crowded with vendors, beggars, colonial architecture, and throngs of people- dirty and overwhelming, yes- but also with the same vibrancy that fuels the engine of the other 3 sub-continental metropoli. I saw Mother Theresa and her fellow nuns of charity performing good acts. I saw large lush parks kept green by tropical monsoons and stiffling, but life-giving, tangible heat and saturating moisture. I saw a town with an imperial past and a modern Indian future. My first impression is something very different. Once again, this place puts me back in mine- unusual, unpredictable, and never easy. A lesson that maybe just cannot be learned... imagine that- a lesson you cannot learn.
We stumbled off the train at 6 am after a 24 hour ride from Jalgaon, a small town with access to ancient buddhist caves in a remote river valley, dating back to the 2nd century BC. More on that later. The vibe of this city was crushing. This is a feeling that words cannot give meaning to- you must experience it. I suppose everyone reacts differently- just like people feel love and anger in complex ways, surroundings influence the body. And here, they seem exceptionally potent. The air was grey and heavy- wet, grimy and unhappy. Through the train station, we had the usual crew of beggars grabbing our arms and pleading for rupees that probably won't do anything for them anyways. What will it buy them? What will it change? I walked by an old woman lying in a pool of her own diarrhea. Hairless mangy dogs covered in scabs wandered the platforms. We hadn't even left the terminal.
Walking into the city requires a 1/2 mile bridge crossing, giving an expansive view of the Hooghley River and the city, home to over 13 million people. The River is sacred to local Hindus, and like every river in this country, is black with garbage and waste. But there are still bathing ghats that people use everyday- to wash their bodies, their clothing, their food, their children. To feel like that water will actually clean something- you must feel extremely, extremely dirty. The ghats are covered in trash. People are packaging produce on the ground that will be taken to the markets, and then to peoples' homes, and then to their mouths. "Fresh" vegetables from the banks of the mighty Hooghley.
Crossing the bridge and passing the ghats, we made our way through garbage dumps, human waste and squatter camps. Small tarps tied from the center median to the ground, forming a half a-frame tent in which families of 4+ try to scrape out some kind of life... some kind of ??happiness?? Watching kids crap on the sidewalk, women burn plastic bottles, and men sleeping face first on the cobblestone, clothing in tatters. And this extends for city blocks in every direction. A Eunuch digs through piles of trash, looking for something I hope to never want, let a lone need. A child sleeps on his back, naked, while his mom stretches her hand out for money. A teenager with obvious mental problems mindlessly drags his foot down the street, drooling, without any pants on.
It's the worst i've seen. I can't believe people, so many people, live like this. Was it worse because I was so tired? My travel direction couldn't have been any more backwards- coming from the urban and developed Bollywood town of Mumbai to this... was that the problem? Had I thought I had seen it all, and could take anything this country threw at me in stride? Or is it really, that bad?
We walked to another train station to buy our tickets to Darjeeling, hoping to get out of here tomorrow. Looking forward to the clean hill stations and clean Himalayan air, Kolkata quickly lost its cultural appeal. But, like all things in India, plans mustn't be made if you aren't willing to break them. The trains are completely full for the next 2 days- and here we stay.
It is truly amazing to me how this city could have been the capital of British India for over a hundred years, and things are this bad. Had they not tried anything to turn this city around? And now, after the legacy of Mother Theresa, and the obvious ability to create modern city life, the government continues to let these people live in such absolute poverty.
The hardest part, after absorbing stimuli that I did not know existed, is the personal response.
It becomes harder to smile.
It becomes harder to talk.
It becomes harder to care.

It becomes easier to get upset.
I becomes easier to say no.
It becomes easier to ignore.

A life of service sounds so good. It feels so good, just the thought. It feels genuine. But from where? A classroom? My bedroom? An office? Sounds and feelings, obviously, depend on your environment. That is what I have learned here today. So how does that translate into my own life? Thoughts to actions? Feelings to FEELINGS? It's not enough to WANT to do it. You must BE ABLE TO do it.
A shower, a nap, and a deep breath (away from the holy bathing ghats) will do me good. But this entry is "First Impressions", and I honor those. Tomorrow, I will try to walk these streets with open eyes. John Burroughs said, "I go to Nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in tune once more." I love that quote. I wonder what he would say about going to Kolkata.