Kolkata - Darjeeling - Kolkata

Yes, I’m alive.

I’m in Kolkata, and I’m fine (better than fine, in fact – I’m having a great time). I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write. I hope you all haven’t given up on this blog, because I have tons of stories to share. Power outages, travel snafus, wacky weather, and long days have made blogging tricky…but I finally have access to internet and a free morning to write. Luxuries!

So, let’s rewind. I arrived in Kolkata, India on Friday, May 7 – nearly three weeks ago. My flight on Air India was long and uneventful; I slept through most of it, waking only to eat yummy meals served by flight attendants in black-and-red saris. When I finally arrived in Kolkata a little after 10 pm, the air hit me like a warm, wet blanket. Expecting to travel to the guesthouse where our group would be staying, I grabbed my bags and followed the man holding a sign with my name on it. Instead of going to the guesthouse, though, we arrived at TJ’s parents’ house, located in a somewhat ritzy apartment complex on the outskirts of the city. Squatter settlements lined the road opposite the walled compound. This was my first introduction to Kolkata’s class divide: extreme poverty and prosperity, side by side. (Weeks later, I learned that those settlements are actually subsidized by the people living in the high rises – Kolkata’s Communist politics in action. More on that later…)

TJ’s parents were very gracious, and we spent the next day getting oriented to the guesthouse and surrounding neighborhood. The guesthouse, a bi-level apartment owned by the Ghose family, is located in Deshapriya Park, not far from Kali Temple, one of the region’s most sacred Hindu sites. The area is vibrant and bustling, with lots of tall trees and old buildings with crumbling balconies. The crowded market district is full of vendors selling everything imaginable – things like fried food, umbrellas, and floral wreaths, stenographers typing on ancient typewriters, astrological readings, and haircuts. It’s a cliché, but it’s true that the ancient and the modern coexist here. In the streets, shiny new Japanese cars jostle for room with 1940s-era yellow taxi cabs, bicycles, and hand-pulled wooden rickshaws that must be at least a century old.

The next day I woke up early and took a cab to the train station to travel to Darjeeling, a town located in the West Bengal hills north of Bengal. I stood on the train platform at 5:30 am with sweat running down my body. Children dressed in rags and emaciated old women begged for change. Middle class families bought tea and trinkets. A young woman, traveling alone, with white skin, short hair, and Western clothes, I received strange stares – the first of many.

Finally I was on the train, in an air-conditioned car with upper and lower berths. I ended up sitting across from a prosperous-looking family – a man and his wife and daughter – who were also traveling to Darjeeling. Meeting them was the luckiest thing that happened to me on my trip: not only did we have the same itinerary, but the man, Mr. Sharma, was an MSW social worker who spoke fluent English. He works as program director for the Indian government’s Rural Health Mission for the state of Sikkim, a tiny state north of Darjeeling, next to Nepal. We shared many interesting conversations during our twelve-hour train ride, about social work, public health, economic development, and politics. We ended up continuing our journey together.

Riding the Indian Railways was, as promised, an unforgettable experience. The train hurtled past rice paddies, villages with mud-and-thatch houses, and people toiling under the blazing sun. At each station, a steady stream of vendors and beggars streamed down the aisle of the train, including chai-wallahs peddling delicious hot tea with milk from giant tin kettles. Once a tiny girl, not older than five years old, appeared by my side. She was dressed as the goddess Kali, complete with blue makeup and costume jewelry. Somewhat ambivalently, I handed her a couple of rupees, wondering about her family. Several shy young men came at intervals and sat down across from me, unable to speak more than a few phrases in English. Three teenage girls, sisters, chatted with me about school and pop music, and shared Indian sweets called rasgulla.

When our train arrived at the New Jalpaiguri train station around 6 pm, I had decided to travel with the Sharma family to Darjeeling. After some time, we realized that the jeeps to Darjeeling were no longer running. Mr. Sharma directed our cab driver to a hotel, where we booked rooms for the night. The next morning, we all piled into a jeep which shuttled us away from the city and into the hills of West Bengal. Mr. Sharma told me about the strong influence of neighboring Nepal, Tibet and Bhutan on the history and culture of Darjeeling. I could see it in the faces of the people and in the visible signs of Buddhism as we drove north.

We climbed up and up on a steep, narrow road, veering around impossible hairpin turns, into a thick mist. A steady convoy of jeeps made its way up and down the mountain. May is tourist season in Darjeeling, and many middle-class Indians and Westerners come to the hills to escape the summer heat. The area in and around Darjeeling, with its dramatic green hills dotted with temples and tea plantations, was one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. It was hard to observe, and be a part of, the overcrowding and pollution caused by tourism in such a special place. Despite this, I had an incredible time – see my slideshow below.

My vacation was unexpectedly cut short due to a strike by the separatist Gorkhaland movement, a major political influence in Darjeeling. Because of the region’s unique history and culture, the Gorkhaland movement seeks to create a separate state for the hill country between West Bengal and Sikkim. There are frequent transit strikes to draw attention to the issue. After three longs days of travel, I finally arrived back in Kolkata on Sunday, May 16, where I met the rest of our group. This was my first time traveling alone in a foreign country, and I'm so glad I did it. Now, though, I'm glad to be back in community, and mostly settled in one place.

Thanks for reading all the way to the end of this long update. Look for another post soon about our first two weeks in Kolkata. Thinking of you!