Saturday 9th February - Something Phishy

Indian culture is changing rapidly. R orders the Indian non-veg breakfast which comes garnished with crisps. The tea making expertise demonstrated by the evening team does not extend to the breakfast squad. We order black teas. "Green tea sir!" We repeat our order very slowly. "Yes sir" He brings two cups of tepid water, one contains a green teabag and the other something that might be Earl Grey but which doesn't taste of anything. A bit of a shame as the food was good.

Today the heavy lifting begins for D. We feel confident enough about Central Kolkata these days to manage without a guide book but now we have gone south we are on less familiar territory. The LP for Bangladesh is a pretty skinny volume whereas the Indian one weighs about the same as a breeze block and isn't much smaller. We have worked out that this is our sixth visit to Kolkata and we have yet to visit the Kali temple which reputedly gives the city its name. Time to put that right. We do some thorough research and read several online articles by Indian visitors, whose common theme is that everybody in and around the temple is out to relieve you of every cent. The strong advice is not to take any more cash than is absolutely necessary.

Having taken heed of this information we set out on foot to the most appropriate share auto route. This takes us by the entrance to Ghariahat Tram Depot but we resist the temptation to drop in unannounced on our acquaintances there. On Hazra Road we soon find what we want and check the destination. We are the only occupants for our Rs 8 per person ride to Jatin Das Park Metro. From here we walk a couple of blocks south and turn west along a street lined with stalls selling essentials for the faithful. D is quite taken by the pairs of feet on small brass trays.

You have to get quite close to the temple to see it and it is not as imposing as we imagined it might be. It is certainly attracting a crowd, most of who are diving into a narrow passageway. As if by magic a short chap in a yellow dress shirt and lunghi appears to ask us what country and what is our interest in the temple. He has decent English and is not pushy so we decide that he may as well get the chance to fleece us rather than anybody else. He tells us that he can take us on a tour that does not require removal of shoes but that the camera must go in the day pack.

We follow him through the narrow entrance into a small courtyard. There appear to be various shrines and a series of barriers behind which a lengthy, jostling queue has formed. This is the queue to make an offering to the goddess Kali, definitely not in the shoes permitted zone. The pushing and shoving is reminiscent of the platform at Dum Dum Junction. He leads us round a corner and into a rather grubby narrow alley. We are looking through a hole in the wall into a small outbuilding full of people and smoldering incense sticks. He tells us that this is where the ritual slaughter of a goat takes place at 8 a.m. each day. He points across the yard and tells us that goat's carcass then goes to the kitchen to feed poor people. 

Another narrow passageway takes us out of the temple but he isn't finished. We go up a flight of steps and are looking over a small tank. He tells us this is dedicated to Lord Shiva and asks us to go forward with him one at a time. He blesses D and his family and then asks for Rs 2000 for a bag of rice to feed the poor. D turns out his pockets to show the 70 bucks he brought with him. "Does your wife have money?". R is called forward and, while she is blessed, D opens her purse and extracts the Rs 200 note that is in there. He pulls a face but accepts it. On the way out he tells us that this is his job and he needs paying. D gives him 40 rupees and hopes we have enough to get home. We remember why we aren't that bothered about temple visiting.

Once we are a safe distance away D retrieves his wallet from the innermost recesses of his day pack. We retrace our steps to the main road and then continue south, eventually getting to Rabindra Sarovar, a park set around a lake. The sun is starting to burn off the haze which has kept things cooler this morning. The last two days have been around 30°C and humid. We walk along the lake shore until the urge for a cup of tea becomes overriding. The place we go to has a very tempting array of buns and we indulge, but only in the small size ones. When we come out we saw lots of girls and young ladies in very smart saris heading down the street. It looked like some sort of special event but we know not what.

R is definitely feeling better as she has been quite lippy today and is demanding mehendi. We find a group of stalls on Rash Behari Avenue and R picks one at random. The catalogue is perused and a design chosen, a price agreed and a low plastic stool sat upon. The lad is delegated to do the art while the owner lights incense and rearranges a few things. R is thrilled to be supporting a true leftie and is pleased with the complete job, although it means no further activity is possible until it dries thoroughly. We return to the Ivy House where our room is being cleaned. No bother. We can have some more excellent tea in the cafe, this time flavoured with kaffir lime. When the room is ready R cadges some mustard oil from the kitchen to rub over the mehendi.

As we relax D remembers that we need to start our malaria tablets today. These have to be taken with food so we are forced to break our skip lunch policy. The cafe serves up Vada Pavs, a food more generally associated with Mumbai. It is a sort of bread bun containing spicy mashed potato. Tastes better than it sounds. Needless to say we take more tea. After refreshment we set out in search of a Modern Art Gallery shown on the map. The building pinpointed by the map app turns out to be a telephone exchange and nobody there knows anything about a gallery. Instead we visit a place selling very smart clothes from fabrics produced by a collective trying to improve conditions for villagers in rural Bengal. The fabrics are exquisite but so are the prices.

R is definitely on the up as she partakes enthusiastically in a bout of retail therapy in the shops and stalls around Ghariahat Crossing. Prices around here are not too hard on the wallet and it means that the budget can still just about run to a modest sundowner on the roof of the Ballygunge Radisson. Today's step count is over 19,000 so far so we feel that we have earned a beer.

Not too far from the Ivy House is a restaurant called 6 Ballygunge Place which has more reviews than The Mousetrap, most of them complimentary. They claim to provide Flavours of Bengal and we decide to give it a go. When we get there the place is busy but they find a corner table for us. The menu is extensive but we have an idea of what we want - fish cooked in banana leaves. We share a starter, Aloo Chop with coriander chutney and then Bhetki Paturi and Chitol Maachher Muitha for which the waiter recommends plain steamed rice. The first of these comes in a delicious mustard sauce. D just manages to squeeze in a pot of Mishti Doi at the end.