The warmth of winter afternoons

Calcuttans love the winter season probably because that is the only time they do not sweat. So what do we love about our good old "sheetkaal" apart from the nolen gurer delicacies? Ask the question to any Bangali and you would get a myriad of replies. Some would prefer the mandatory visit to the zoo while some others would cherish the nostalgia of picnics and school trips made in their childhood. One thing everyone would unanimously agree is that the best part of winters is the afternoon, or 'dupurbela', as we dearly call it.

The Bengali community has always been criticized for being lazy and laidback. Well, it is just a way of life for us. We have the merit, we have the intellect too but we hate being robots. Even if we are toppers, anybody with true Bangali blood running in his or her veins would not like to give up on curling under the beloved 'lep' and 'kanthas' during the free winter afternoons and delving into the mysteries of Feluda. Winter afternoons bring with them just the right bit of physical and emotional warmth that we crave for during winters. They also bring along a whiff of nostalgia; of afternoons spent in childhood or youth, memories that can never fade enough to go into oblivion. Some of them bring a smile while some of them form a lump in the throat. But that is what winter is all about.

Kanthas and memories

Winter is about curling under the warm and cozy 'leps' and 'kanthas' (quilts) and reading or re-reading books that feed our nostalgia. It is about watching the golden sunshine outside the windows of your house or workplace lighting up the dull days of winter and infusing life into the streets of Kolkata. Winter means going to Kolkata Maidan with your friends, stretching out on the green grass and creating memories till the sun threatens to set for the day. Winter means laying out the madur or the sheetalpaati ( palm leaf mats) on the terrace and chatting for long hours while the warmth of the afternoon sun cuts the chill and the tanginess of oranges sweetens the hours. Last, but not the least, such afternoons warm us with the heat of the love trapped for ages in the woollens knitted by our mothers and grandmothers.

Maidan

Winters are special, and will always be. No matter how we hate them when we need to get ready for work early in the morning, the afternoons will always warm us up in the right way. 

The 'Rock' culture of Kolkata

Adda is intrinsic to Bengali blood and is an inseparable part of our culture. A Bangali without adda is like a fish out of water. It is interesting how the entire English dictionary fails to find a suitable synonym for the Bengali word 'adda'. It is good to be workaholic but if you have missed out on adda in the younger half of your life, I am sad to say that you have missed out on blissful moments of life.

Now, what is adda and what makes this very Bengali idea of 'adda' so different from chatting or meetings? One thing each and every Bengali would agree to is that the word 'adda' has a definite note of endearment and warmth that is missing in any other word. 'Adda' is a part of our culture; it is a significant part of our Bangaliana and definitely runs in our blood. The college and university canteens, Coffee House, Nandan, Academy of Fine Arts, or even Maddox Square are the adda zones of Kolkata. Skipping classes at University for precious addas over cups of tea and coffee has created unforgettable memories. Don't we all cherish those anecdotes from our student lives and find ourselves smiling, reminiscing those days on lazy afternoons?

This adda culture is fortunately still rooted in us to some extent and such sudden addas get us reasons to smile and rejoice even in this bleak world of 2016. But what Kolkata has almost lost is her 'Rock' culture while taking the big step from the 90s to the 21st century. A fond memory of those who spent their childhood and their youth in the 70s, 80s and 90s is the 'parar rock e boshe adda'. Once again I dare not commit the blasphemy of using 'neighbourhood' for 'para'. This 'rock' or rather 'rowack' as it is called is a flat pedestal on both the sides of the staircase leading to the main door of the house. Rare to find such 'rocks' or 'rowacks' in a city that is rapidly losing its heritage and culture, a few of these can still be found in some of the lanes of North Kolkata or localities like Bhowanipore in the South. These few pockets still preserve the vanishing architecture of Kolkata's past and have not yet been converted to high rises and sprawling apartments.

Though few of these rowacks still exist in the above mentioned areas, they definitely lack the young and old groups of 'para' friends who would gather for endless hours of addas. Snippets of Bangali addas can include anything and everything from Netaji to Draupadi. Looking back into my childhood, I clearly remember how the old people of the 'para' would gather together on the rowacks for their dear adda hours. People would rush to this precious comfort zone just after returning home from office to shed off the day's distress and soak themselves in something that is synonymous to bliss. The neighbourhoods would be lighted up in the heat of conversations ranging from daily events to the pages of the morning newspaper. It is also interesting to note how these 'rowacks' turned into specific adda territories based on the age groups. For instance, while a certain Ghosh family's rowack would find the oldies of the para discussing the generation gap over cups ( read earthen 'bhaanrs') of tea, another rowack at some other bend of the lane would have the youngsters discussing the sacred game of football. One of these fond 'rowack' memories shared by someone in my family was about how the whole para would congregate on these rowacks very early in the morning on the day of Mahalaya. All the families would listen to the divine Chandipath being played by the huge, old radios while enjoying their morning cups of tea like an extended family. After the radio programme would be over, they would relish the upcoming Pujo mood by gorging on freshly made kochuris and jilipis and of course some more adda.

While people have moved on in their lives and have lesser time in their hands now to relax or bond enough with people to share their daily experiences face-to-face, the few living 'rowacks' in some of the lanes of the city, stand alone, waiting for their turn to be demolished.