The sights and smells of Chitpur Road

Chitpur road, divided into upper and lower parts, is older than Kolkata, or so the popular legend goes. I staunchly refuse to refer to it by its new name, which lends the narrow, dirty and delightful road a respectability which I am sure the road looks upon with disdain. This winding road, easily divisible into various sections catering to various professional communities, begins as Bentinck Street and continues to, well, I really don't know where. The lower section of Chitpur road, which marks the stretch from Bentinck Street to the MG Road crossing, is primarily occupied by Muslim tradesmen selling everything from wigs to expensive chikankari items, luscious fruits to star shaped cow-dung cakes [talk about customizing!!]. The imposing domes of the Nakhoda Masjid loomed over us as we craned our necks to catch a sight of it, which our placid tram generously afforded us. The tram rambled on as we crossed one famous landmark after another. The smells of Bagri Market were quite overwhelming as our untrained nostrils expressed irritation at this sensory assault. Shops selling musical instruments, most of which we could not even name, lined both sides of the road. It is also believed that Madhusudan Dutt composed his magnum opus sitting in a tiny alcove in one of the many crumbling mansions dotting both sides of the road.

However, the scenes and smells soon changed once we crossed MG Road and entered the Hindu Marwari sector of this erstwhile economic nerve-center of Kolkata. Shops selling brass utensils, baskets, various religious paraphernalia became ubiquitous and the predominant color which impressed itself upon us changed from green to saffron. We passed the archway of the Jorasanko Thakurbari. Prashanna Coomar Street, Tagore Castle street were areas we had already explored on foot and thus we knew that the quaint names concealed both magnificent buildings and unthinkable grime and dirt in their fold.

The tram continued to plod its way with a stoic dignity, while lesser vehicles jostled for space. We passed the notorious jatra para in the upper division of Chitpur Road, and, true to form, we leaned out of our tram windows, risking our necks, both literally and metaphorically, to catch a glimpse of the women lining the narrows alleys which form the infamous red light district of Rambagan, Sethbagan and Sonagacchi. The close confines of the tram allowed us to vicariously indulge our curiosity, while being reassured of our own distance---spatial, geographical and circumstantial---from the women in the alley. The tram continued down Chitpur Road but unfortunately it was time we hopped off at the intersection of Grey Street/Sobhabazar Street. Chitpur Road did not disappoint us. We probably did not do justice to this ancient lifeline by choosing the comforting confines of the tram instead of braving the entire stretch on foot.