Esplanade On A Winter Day

I chose not to do a conventional annual vacation in some corner of India this year. With the greenback ruling above 63, a trip beyond the shores was a non-starter. So back it was to enjoy the salubrious winter of the city I was born in and lived for a major part of my life......Calcutta.

Beyond re-unions with the few friends who still prefer Calcutta as their operational base and the seasonal food attractions like the `nolen gur’ and `phoolkopi’ offerings, there was much to observe and absorb as I moved around the city and beyond. What follows are vignettes from my walk-about at the heart of the city...... Esplanade.

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West Bengal’s populace manifests their unceasing demands through rallies that perpetually choke Esplanade and brings the city to a standstill. The Metro corridor and Rashmoni Avenue are favourite haunts for these `michhils’ and `dharnas’. On this day, CPI(M) held fort at this venue. It was an ongoing `awnoshawn’ (agitation); not a one-day affair. Surya Kanta Mishra, the leader of opposition in the Bengal assembly, was leading the charge as a retinue of mildly detached cops hung around to ensure things remained manageable. And then I saw `technology’ coming into play at a CPI(M) forum. Goutam Deb, a senior party functionary, delivered his fiery gibberish to the assembled crowd through a VC from his hospital bed on a giant screen on stage. My mind went back to the 90s when CPI(M) members of the trade union at the nearby office where I worked violently blocked all efforts to computerise the accounting system. For a party that had adopted such a sharp anti-technology stance, Goutam Deb’s contorted mug on the big screen confirmed completion of the volte face.

`Dharna' in progress at Esplanade, overseen by the cops

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Tucked between Peerless Inn and Anadi Cabin, behind a mountain of readymade garments on offer by hawkers who occupy the entire pavement, you will find this ramshackle joint called `Pen Hospital’. It has been there for 90 years, in the same dilapidated state that I first saw in my childhood. A man named Raj presides alone over this establishment. My wife had earlier given me a Sheaffers that she inherited from her grandfather. The pen’s convertor had outlived its utility. This was a model that had long gone out of circulation. I tentatively handed over the pen and inquired if something could be done about it. “But of course! It will cost you Rs.250 if you need an original convertor for this model.” Ten minutes later, I was enjoying the finest writing experience. Would he also have a convertor for a Waterman model that a friend had asked for? “This is a hospital. I do not administer anything without seeing the patient.” Professional pride!

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Talking of Anadi Cabin, I am happy to note that business remains brisk. Anadi-babu’s garlanded portrait watches over hungry patrons devouring the legendary mughlai paratha. The place has remained a hole-in-the-wall outlet. It accommodates about 15 customers in primitive wooden stools that a five year old would find difficult to squeeze in. The only change I discerned was the introduction of a `No Smoking’ sign on the wall. I recommend the mughlai with the double duck egg. It sets you back by Rs.58, but leaves you with a benign smile and tingling taste buds.

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Moti Sil was one of Bengal’s beloved merchant princes. The road named after him runs parallel to the Metro corridor and is better known for its rows of shops dealing in rubber goods. What is less known is that an extension of Moti Sil Street houses an esoteric range of photographic equipments in stuffy outlets that cater to customers from all over the sub-continent. This is popularly called Metro Gully. I ventured here to upgrade to a Canon 60D. The salesmen at these outlets can match Senhor Oliveira de Figueira. A couple of hours later, I emerged from the Gully in a semi-bankrupt state with the assured grip of a new EOS 7D in hand, much like Tintin did after his first meeting with Senhor.

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Calcutta was called the City of Palaces. Most of the city is a mass of brick skeletons and gray cemented walls. The gems emerge as soon as these classical buildings receive a coat of paint. My favourite at the Esplanade `paara’ is Victoria House. I spent seven formative years of my career here, where I made lasting relationships and, not to forget, where I also met my would-be wife. In step with the local Government’s obsession, Victoria House was re-christened CESC House after the Goenkas took over in the 90s. I don’t think the new name has found acceptability till date. The building adjacent to Victoria House is the equally impressive Statesman House. But it wears a forlorn look, bearing signs of the much-lamented decline of The Statesman where I once contributed weekly columns.

These two apart, Esplanade Mansions at the mouth of Sidhu –Kanhu Dahar and the building that houses Central Cottage Industries Emporium at one end of S N Banerjee Road also dazzle, thanks to the upkeep by LIC which owns these properties. Old-timers relate stories about late night drives by Uttam Kumar with friends on the deserted streets around the Strand, after hard partying on the domed terrace of the Cottage Industries building.

 

Victoria House. S P Mukherjee's statue stands guard in the foreground

Statesman House

Esplanade Mansions

Central Cottage Industries Emporium building

Next to these lovely buildings, you'll also see this juxtaposed

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Curzon Park still houses the main tram `goomty’ of Calcutta Tram Company. The trams continue to amble around the dusty park, though they are outnumbered now by CTC buses. Developed cities like Hong Kong and Melbourne have found ways to showcase their trams as prime tourist attractions and revenue generators. It takes a potent mix of apathy, warped priorities and lack of vision to supervise the imminent demise of one of the oldest tram networks in the world.

Around the bend at Curzon Park

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A friend informed that the iconic Great Eastern Hotel had re-opened its doors after seven years of refurbishment. As an articled clerk in the 80s, I had spent time doing internal audit here, whilst the establishment crumbled all around under the administrators of Govt. of West Bengal. Nostalgia drove us for a lunch date to Al Fresco, the new restaurant there. The spread was extensive, the hospitality impeccable, and it could have been any slick new hotel on earth with no distinct identity. This was a place that Mark Twain judged `the best hotel east of Suez’. This is where Wilson Jones won his world amateur billiards crown in 1958, the first Indian to do so. And what about Maxims, the most happening evening out affair in the days of the Raj? It may be unfair to expect the Suri’s to have a sense of Great Eastern’s history. 

At Bidar

Messrs. Fuste and Mehta introduced us to History at school. They wrote a drab book, filled with names, dates, events and badly printed illustrations. It was mind-numbing and uninteresting enough to put us off the subject. That's the way it remained, till much later I got wind of narrative history and some brilliant writing to revive my interest.

Bidar was a name that stuck from Fuste and Mehta. Fiddling around on an uneventful Sunday, I became curious when Google map threw up Bidar just 126 kms from Hyderabad, my present base.

Sanjay Sandilya, an old friend, joined me on an early morning start in my Swift for a day trip to Bidar.

A two and a half hour ride, with a leisurely breakfast thrown in midway at the passable Mahindra Resorts, brought us to Bidar. We traversed through ORR and NH9 before diverting at Zaheerabad onto a quaint 26 kms stretch of state highway that leads to Bidar.

Where on earth is Bidar?

In today's map of India, Bidar occupies a unique location. It is technically a part of Karnataka; in fact, the northern-most town in the state. The state capital, Bangalore, lies a distant 690 kms away.The Telengana border is just 3 kms outside the town, The closest capital city is Hyderabad. The peculiarity of Bidar's location may be gauged from the uniform mix of vehicles there bearing registration numbers of Karnataka, Telengana and Maharashtra. We even noted an auto-load of pilgrims arriving from the neighbouring state (sign at the back of the auto :`Latur City').

In local government lingo Bidar (pop: 211,000) is the 22nd cleanest town in India. In layman's parlance, it is just like any other dusty small town dotting our country. Abdul Karim, our local guide, mentioned that Bidar once had a population of a million during the Nizam era. Goes to show which way migration progressed over time, as Bidar dwindled in significance.

In recent years Bidar has acquired a mini-Manipal status. The proliferation of educational institutions at all levels bears testimony to this aspect.

A bit of history

Bidar's existence dates back several centuries to the Mauryas, through the Satavahanas, Chalukyas and Rashtrakutas, till the Deccan was annexed by the rulers of Delhi. The Muslim officers under the command of Delhi thereafter rebelled and established the Bahmani kingdom in the 14th century. Allauddin Shah, the Bahmani sultan, shifted his capital from nearby Gulbarga to Bidar in 1427, and Bidar attained its heights in this period under the Bahmanis and then the Barid Shahis.

In and around Bidar

The locals eulogise a former `Commissioner Saab' named Harish Gupta. They sing praises of his efforts to restore landmark monuments of Bidar and to boost the famous `bidri work' industry that originated here. They remain in awe of how he and his wife made their daily rounds of the town to oversee the progress of restoration, and how they mingled withe the hoi polloi `without gunmen' for protection!

Bidar Fort
Bidar Fort was the citadel of the Bahmani kingdom and the rulers that followed. It lay in serious disrepair till eight years ago, when ASI took over and commenced restoration. Progress has been slow and laboured. But further deterioration has been arrested. To provide an idea of its expanse, the walls of the fort measure 4 kms in circumference, interspersed with seven imposing gateways. Visitors are allowed access to the fort between 9AM and 5PM. There is no entry fee. Significant parts of the fort are out of bounds and remain under lock and key. Apart from a young foreigner couple (Lord only knows what brought them here!), we were the only visitors on a Saturday morning. Any other land, and you would have been guaranteed streams of visitors lining up to buy expensive tickets for entry to a site of this stature. Sanjay put his `gentle art of persuasion' to play with the ASI guardians. My serious looks and our photography equipment did the rest. We were allowed access to the inner chambers, escorted! The guardian who gave the nod was in a chatty mood. He talked at length of his 32 year association with the fort. He had started as a daily wage earner in 1985, and was given a formal appointment by ASI in 1997. He has been witness to the derelict state of Bidar Fort, a den of anti-socials and gamblers, before ASI moved in. He estimates that a fort which requires at least 30 full-time employees for upkeep and security has only eight today. A fort museum that contains an impressive array of items was to be opened last year. `It is 74% complete. The remaining 26% is in limbo on account of lack of directive from the government. And so we continue to wait'. But his stories are not all doom and gloom. He proudly highlights that the shooting of
`Mera Ishq Sufiana' from Dirty Dancing was done in the confines of the fort.

Lalbagh Garden in the foreground, Tarkash Mahal and Gagan Mahal in the background and Solah Khambha Mosque on the right

View of Lalbagh Garden from within Tarkash Mahal

Inside Solah Khambha Mosque (I am rather tickled about this one from a photography perspective!)

Solah Khambha Mosque

Rangeen Mahal

Diwan-e-Khas, where they shot the sequence in Dirty Dancing

Takht Mahal, the throne room

View of the land below from atop Bidar Fort

Bidri art
About a kilometre from the fort stands the Chaubara. The tall structure, with a dysfunctional clock thrown in as a later addition, served as a watchtower to raise the alarm for advancing enemies. Adjacent to the chaubara lies a dusty, narrow lane with a high decibel level of hammers and chisels striking metal. This is the hub of the priceless bidri work creation, which I first heard about from my wife Sonali. A colony of artisans chips away on the zinc-copper alloy. A complex process that includes a unique oxidation methodology by boiling the mud from the fort and applying on the items results in the base metal turning pitch black without affecting the silver. Sanjay and I were made to taste the mud to appreciate its uniqueness. We found it tangy and salty.

Semi-finished bidri vase

We broke for lunch at ABC Restaurant at a high street location. We chose to ignore their signature `broasted' chicken (has to be a Portmanteau of chicken breast roasted). The conventional fare of chicken and egg with rotis was agreeable and did not leave a dent on our constitution. Couldn't take chances, being the `amaasha'-sensitive Bongs we are!

Nanak Jheera Sahib
The site resembled an erst of bees. All inmates were busy fulfilling some work or the other. The sheer size of the complex and scale of operations make you take a deep breath. Nanak Jheera Sahib holds a high rank in the pecking order of places sacred to the Sikhs. Guru Nanak visited Bidar on his second `udasi'. Legend has it that on hearing the locals' plea on shortage of water, he moved a rubble with his toe, and a fountain of water gushed from the hillside, which continues to flow today. The place where this happened is christened `Amrit Kund'. The water from Amrit Kund is believed to have curative properties. The authorities of the gurdwara manage operations on a massive scale, that includes colleges, schools, hospitals, a huge `langar' and a guest house that can possibly accommodate the whole town!

Sukhasan room, where the `Guru Granth Sahib' is maintained. 

The holy tank in the foreground, with the massive guest house as a backdrop

Sanjay in front of Amrit Kund

An octagonal tomb

On the way to Bahmani tombs and a few kilometers out of the fort on the Bidar-Astur road, we stopped by at this structure that the locals call `chowkhandi'. A subsequent search on the net advised that this was the shrine of Syed Kirmani Baba, a Persian saint who was a guru to the Bahmani rulers. A serene location, with barely anyone around, this seemed perfect for someone's last resting place. And we had no complaints about the blueness of the sky, as our CPL filters went on overdrive.

  
The Bahmani tombs
All travel sites will advise this as a `must visit', and with good reason. The place evokes immediate comparison with the Qutb Shahi tombs at Hyderabad. Although this was on a smaller scale as compared to Qutb Shahi, the setting was superior..... a perfect symmetry of fine tombs in an undulating, rolling hills landscape, away from the hustle and bustle of  a dusty town in close proximity. Apart from us, a few ladies in burkhas, with kids in tow, were scattered around the spot. A hassled security guard kept reminding the kids that playing cricket and cycling were not part of the `do-ables' at the site. The guard informed that the tomb most damaged had been struck by lightning. Obviously, this was before earthing conductors came into play. I assume they have installed them since.

We had set aside time for a visit to the Narasimha Jhira Cave temple. It sounded exciting, having to wade through 300 metres of waist-deep water in a bat-invested cave beneath a hill to reach the deity. What we forgot was that we arrived on Sharat Purnima, a day considered sacred by pilgrims. The long queue outside the cave was a ready deterrent, and we decided to maintain this as a stopover for a possible next visit.

Our next stop was at Deva Deva Vana. This is located on the state highway that connects Bidar to Zaheerabad. In short, this is a major fraud being perpetrated by the Forest Department on the paying public. There is precisely nothing of interest in this enclosure in the forest, other than the officials' tall claim that this houses a large variety of medicinal plants. A strict `must miss' on your Bidar leg!

On our onward journey earlier in the day, we had seen a mausoleum in stunning white in barren, undulating land, with no human in sight. Since the sun was against the subject, we had noted to stop by on our return leg to visit this place. What we thought to be a construction with fresh bright white paint was in actual fact wrapped in white marble!! The photographs below may tell the story.

Astana Chishtiya Hazrat Multani Baba, Gangwar Shareef, Taluk: Zaheerabad, Dist.: Medak, Telengana State.

Expansion work is in progress on NH9 between Zaheerabad and Patancheru. This may take another couple of years. It is advisable to avoid a drive on this 76 kms stretch after sundown. The traffic gets worse as the evening progresses.