Sounds of Kolkata

 This piece was written for the magazine DOT .in, an Australian publication which has a lot of focus on India.  You can read the online version here: https://www.dotin.com.au/article/the-sounds-of-kolkata

The sounds may have changed, as cities do, but Kolkata still finds new ways to make itself heard. A hand-painted illustration by Avanish Trivedi, a self-taught artist whose energy is fuelled by Kolkata’s chaos

Here's what was written originally.

Calcutta wakes up to calls. The crack of dawn had the muezzin chant his soothing, acoustic azaan, now replaced by high powered microphones, jolting you out of bed. If you are close to the local train lines you might hear an early morning horn heralding the arrival of the workforce from the hinterland. Back in the Ripon Street area the squeak of the community hand pump announced early morning bath time with its bucket clanging. The noise of the bhistis (water carriers) jousting to get their goatskins filled was occasionally matched by a bell from a roadside temple as early puja began.

A typical day would have various vendors and service providers announce themselves. The 

bikriwalla or kabadiwalla (scrap seller) calling for purana kagaz (old newspaper for recycling) has now been matched by a similar collector of electronics with his cry of “computer, UPS, monitaaar”. 

The nickname Ting-tingwala was what we called this vendor. He rang a small handbell to attract kids to sample his various treats, not limited to white candyfloss known locally as buddi ka bal (old lady’s hair).  He and his tribe still roam the streets between Wellesley and Dharamtala.

Rats! The vendor is at hand with  “chua mare, khatmaal mare, aadmi nahi maregaaa” - in translation, without the singsong melody, it says “rats will die, bugs will die but people will not die” - obviously if you buy the local poison that he is selling.

The handpulled rickshaw, king of the flooded streets, had a brass bell on a short rope with which he alerted passers-by of his presence. It still exists in pockets though largely replaced by the tricycles with their squeeze-bulb horns and the e-rickshaws with their fancy electronic horns. Nothing can beat the cacophony of the vehicle horns that are a rousing chorus depending on the time of day or the complexity of the traffic jam.

You can’t miss the sound of the trundling trams, confined frustratingly to their tracks. The foot-operated bell was only to express the driver’s irritation with the vehicle in front. Though largely phased out, trams still remain on a few routes and are more of a tourist attraction now, some being airconditioned and even serving snacks! 

The itinerant flute player, who knew every seasonal song from Christmas, and all the movie themes, would wander by to amuse us at our homes Elliot Road or Wellesley, and earn a little pocket money. Today we have young buskers who set up on Park Street and earn their pocket money while honing their musical skills.

A gentleman of Chinese origin used to bring a small drum (dholak), played by an extra when he could afford it.  He then proceeded to perform all sorts of juggling tricks to the sound of that drum and an appreciative audience. That dholak was the centrepiece of many roadside circuses where little kids would perform balancing and gymnastic acts while the parents would provide the script, sound and bowls for collection.

But the monkey man reserved the right to ply the damroo which immediately brought the kids and adults into a tight circle to marvel at the skills of our ancestors. 

On Sunday afternoons the sound of the pungi announced the snake charmer with his basket of creepy crawlies who allegedly enjoyed his music, though deaf. For some of us, his only competition was the Cake Man who carried atop his head a black box filled with creamy cakes, cream rolls, and stuffed mince patties. His cries of “cakewallah” was the signal for afternoon tea. 

As the evening crept in, sounds of beautiful music would waft from various doorways. Rabindrasangeet to the sound of the harmonium from some, mushy love songs from others. These have now been replaced by prime time serials and high-intensity news anchors!