Memento

Some photos of my time in Kolkata I wish I had taken. I was there, saw the sight, but wasn't able to capture it in anything but my malleable memory. So I'm going to write them down.

A man with a large goatskin water bag. He was dressed in the usual shirt and longhi, or maybe trousers. He held the mouth of a large triangular leather bag up to the spout of a roadside water pump, and pumped the handle with his other hand. Water spilled over the bag causing darker streaks to appear on its surface. I saw another man with a similar bag walking down a road, I don't recall where. This bag was full, its thin leather straps wrapped around it and slung over his shoulder.

Late at night just on the corner of Sudder street to the internet cafe, the door to the off-license that was usually open by day was closed by a metal grating. Two men stood inside surrounded by shelves full of bottles of alcohol. A group of men gathered outside bustling up and down the two steps from the pavement up to the door. Each one pushing to be head of the queue where they would shout their order and hold out a note through the grate in exchange for a bottle. Everything a grubby brown. Very little light evident within the shop which instead was lit by the lights out in the street.

A man, sat cross legged on the pavement, a wild stack of white hair on his head. Completely naked save maybe a thin leather necklace of some kind.

The group constantly washing at the New Market Slum water pump. One man crouched, covered in soap suds, still wearing his longhi scrubbing at his back with a bar of soap. Two lads stood chatting, likewise scrubbing themselves with soap. Children running around the wash area with nothing on, splashing in the water as it spills out of the small knee level cubicle in which a man squats washing some clothes at the pump. The dog nearby looking for scraps and a little further on three children crouch in a circle and watch new born chicks under the bicycle wheeled metal cart.

The five men sat cross-legged in a circle on the pavement. One lent up against a parked car. Playing cards for several days in the same spot.

The family consisting of a woman, an elder daughter maybe, and two young children, settling down to sleep for the night on thin jute mats laid out on the pavement not far from the card players. On another occasion, the same group I think, but the child was storming off with a tantrum as the mother sought to calm him down and deal with the offending sibling. A scene played out in many kids bedrooms all over Britain. It's just that this was taking place on the pavement.

That'll do for now.

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Peoples is Peoples correction:

I've recalled some instances of bullying in the Kolkata groups, which is making the memories more real. Peoples is, after all, peoples. It would be frankly odd if street kids behaved with perfect manners. I'm trying not to allow my memories of Kolkata to become idealised, imagining the kids to be perfect human beings, the teachers to be full of consistent grace and compassion and never loosing it a little. The kids didn't always listen to me in the Bible studies, though of course I wasn't able to talk in Hindi so one can give them some slack with respect to the ignorant foreigner. The lads laughed at Shombu on occasions because he wasn't that bright. I recall seeming some argey-bargey in the New Market group. Bristol youth club tonight and the kids were all trying to be cool. I do think the Indians were more able to be themselves. Not sure if that's culture or relative wealth.