There have been several clear signs that it is the monsoon season, in addition to the almost daily bouts of torrential rain and massive thunderstorms. It now takes approximately three days to dry my clothes, several clothes have started sprouting a variety of types of mould, and my walls are now a lovely mottled pink colour - darker where there is damp. I can't really decide which season I have liked least - the intense heat before the rains, when prickly heat was the order of the day, or the humidity of the monsoon - after it has rained going anywhere is like wading through a steam bath. But apart from these few minor inconveniences (as well as the increase in number of rats and cockroaches due to drains being flooded) the monsoon hasn't really affected daily life as much as thought it would. I've only had to wade once - I don't think it has been as heavy here as usual. So life is going on pretty much as normal, I'm still bewailing my significant hair loss due to anti-malarials, drinking frequent chocolate milkshakes, and negotiating the Kolkata traffic with a shudder. The most exciting occurrence of the last week has been the discovery of a street food stall opposite my house where I can get a paratha (fried chappati) and vegetable curry for 8 Rupees. That's about 10 pence. That even puts the chicken chow mein I was getting for 23 Rupees in the shade. So as you can probably conclude, my attempts at Indian cookery have come to an abrupt end!
The last couple of weekends I've been meeting up with other VSO volunteers for mutual emotional support, a little bit of grumbling, and touristy sessions, which has been great. The other saturday we decided to go to Babu Ghat - I had read that it was by the river, so I thought it would be a nice calming place with a little river breeze, perfect for a saturday afternoon stroll. But, actually, it is a gathering place for Hindus, so at the entrance was a seething and jostling mass of Indian men and women, some ambling around, many sitting around ornate statues of Gods and Goddesses decorated with brightly coloured and beautifully scented flowers, the smells mingling with the many incense sticks. We made our way past all these people, hoping not tread anywhere that would cause religious insult, and made our way down to the river. Well, or we tried to, but it was very muddy, so decided instead we would take in the view from the top. Hundreds of men, women and children had come here to bathe in the Hooghly, and were splashing happily across the mud and submerging themselves in the river. Some boys were diving off the rusty hulk of a ship near to the shore. We took in the view for a while, enjoying the people-watching, but then Debs mentioned that it was a bit like staring at people going for a swim in the sea, so decided perhaps our staring should cease.
We thought we would walk up to the flower market, as that is also by river. Unfortunately there was no riverside path, so we had to walk along the main road. And not only is Babu Ghat a special place for Hindus, it is also a main bus station in Kolkata, so the road was fairly busy. There was also a pretty constant succession of porters with huge weights on their heads coming from Howrah station. So all in all walking down the road was quite an intense experience - checking behind to jump out of the way of careering buses and motorcycles, diving out of the way of porters who didn't look like they could change direction even if they wanted, and avoiding open drains and urinals. And all in the glaring sun - it would be an understatement to say after 10 minutes I was a little sweaty, drenched would be the correct term. We walked past an expensive hotel, one that is actually floating on the river, and decided to go and have a look at the menu - less to see that and more to benefit from a couple of minutes of a/c. We walked in and immediately felt out of place given our sweaty-ness, but in the restaurant they invited us to sit down, and gave us free drinks of salt lemon soda - this was the first free thing I had been given in India, and it was perfectly timed! After this rejuvenating drink we felt more energised to walk to the flower market, which is under the Howrah bridge, and is where the Kolkata population buy their flowers for puja, or prayers. By this time it had started to drizzle, so we got onto the bridge and were able to stand in the rain staring down at the craziness below - the packed street lined with stall after stall of bright pink, orange, purple and yellow flowers contrasting oddly with the black and blue plastic sheeting. Men with huge baskets of strings of orange and yellow flowers on their heads jostled their way through the crowds, and every so often a small van barged its way scattering everyone to either side. And walking through the market was an experience for all five senses - the dampness of the drizzle, the pushing and shoving and beeping of horns, wafts from the scents from the different types of flowers - it was great. And I think this is first market I have been to where I didn't buy anything, tempting as it was!
