diwali: i can't believe we almost made it

My inconsistent blog posts mirror my failed efforts to keep a journal over the past ten years. Oops.

I've been in Calcutta (renamed Kolkata in 2001) since the 2nd, though I took some time mid-week to visit Sunderbans National Park, the largest mangrove forest in the world. The overpriced tour was ostensibly designed around viewing wildlife - but the tigers, crocodiles, spotted deer, wild boar, and other animals that supposedly call the Sunderbans home were in hiding. But wow, did I ever see a lot of trees. It was quite pleasant to get out of the city to spend some time among villages and rice paddies. And the relative silence of the countryside - ah, the blessed quiet.

Kolkata is a madhouse. The roads and alleys are more thickly congested than arteries on a grilled cheese diet. Imagine three standard-size road lanes in Canada. Now squash four cars, three motorcycles, and two cycle-rickshaws into those three lanes. And some poor schmuck trying to weave across these lanes on foot. Yes, Kolkata! The ubiquitous Hindustan Ambassador taxis are pretty slick, and more pleasant-looking than a sea of auto-rickshaws, which are somewhat less common here. Crossing the street on foot is much like unprotected sex: an adventure every time! The neat thing about Kolkata is that the original human-powered rickshaws are still kicking. Everywhere else I've only seen auto- or cycle-rickshaws. These guys can really zoom around a traffic jam. Yesterday I was in a taxi and the driver was yelling into his phone, "[something in Hindi] jam! [Hindi Hindi] jam [Hindi]!!!" Why invent a word for all the shitty concepts when English is already on the job? Hooray for the British empire, hooray for us.

Like other cities, Kolkata contains homelessness, child beggars, amputees, and mountains of evolving garbage. And multitudes. But it's really very decent - let's blame Mother Teresa's press for lending Kolkata the terrible reputation that persists to this day. My major trouble is developing an unseeing stare when sad old ladies and naked kids tug at my sleeves in supplication.

West Bengal is a confusing title as this state is located in eastern India; Bangladesh, before splitting off, was formerly East Bengal. Anyway, being in West Bengal, I'm really noticing India's regional differences. Curries are sweeter, the skin is darker, the religion focuses on Kali, who is by far the scariest of Hindu deities. And of course, language changes everywhere you go. In Darjeeling, people were speaking Hindi and Nepali and Tibetan. In Kolkata, it's Hindi and Bengali and I don't know what else.

Something that spans India and the world's Indian diaspora is the holiday of Diwali. November 5 was Diwali proper but it seems the celebrations will continue until the 7th. I still haven't figured out what it all means, and it's celebrated in different ways wherever you go. In Kolkata: lighting candles, setting off firecrackers, worshiping terrifying Kali statues, dressing up in fancy duds, doing family things. *Note: if I'm ever engaged in fisticuffs, I hope the goddess Kali's got my back. A ritual beheading is a definite 'win'.* At first glance, Diwali is like a complex and noisy Christmas. I leave on a train for Mumbai on the night of the 7th so perhaps the mysteries of Diwali will unfold before then.

I keep meaning to blog about the food... what an undertaking. India's tasty miracles probably deserve their own post.