Three days in jumbled order, Part 2

 Day 1 rewind (How it is) to get us to Day 3

The last day of my mom's drop off to Kolkata was actually largely focused on an issue that came up on Day 1. Initially, she had rented a small “apartment” not too far from the hotel where we initially started. We booked a car and driver from the hotel for these days to help us navigate the area, and potentially see a few things. One of our tasks was to officially check out the small “apartment”. We got there and found that it was in an ok area in terms of facilities, but honestly, the apartment was a room, and there was no real kitchen. 

Further to that, the place was way too far from any neighborhood she knew. She really needed a safer, known area, preferably near people she knew. It was a case of somewhat false or exaggerated advertising. After getting over the initial shock that this was not going to work for her, she spent most of that first day was accepting the mistake, and then also figuring out how to solve the problem. We went to my aunt’s house to begin the recovery process. My aunt is probably one of two relatives with whom I have any actual real relationship. The other is an uncle who stayed with us in South Dakota during the 1980s while he was a student at the college where my father taught. I am guessing that the reason these two are closer to me is because of almost all my relatives, these two are the only ones who actually spent any extended time with us in our own context rather than theirs. 

In any case, my aunt and her husband, both of whom are quite elderly now, offered kind words and listened to her over lunch at their house. My uncle, who likes to solve problems, started calling around to see if someone could find another place for her. This went on for a short while until we realized we had to head back to the hotel.

Thanks to jetlag later that night, I got onto the Airbnb site and started to browse places. I was actually kind of anxious about leaving my Indian Born Confused Desi mother in Kolkata without decent accommodations. She’s going to be here for a few months, not a few days. I wrote a few places, and later in the morning heard from all three. I talked with one guy about his rental, which was minutes away from an area my mother had spent time during her childhood. It sounded somewhat promising, so I talked to my mother about it, and she agreed to let me book it. Whew.

That was Day 1. Eventful. 

Fast-forwarding to Day 3

We decided to go have a look at this place, at least from the outside. What this meant was that we would drive from one end of town to another. It seems simple, but going 10 miles in the traffic around here takes forever. It took us about 40 minutes to go 10 miles. My mother kept being surprised, but I don’t know why. The roads were not designed for high-speed freeway travel, and they never have been, but they are getting better. The actual challenge is that the roads are supporting some serious population numbers. It is a little bit disconcerting. The kinds of buildings going up are out of sync with more ideal infrastructure (not to mention, a consistent architectural style). Although I have to say, things are cleaner than last time. Every time I come here, everything is a little cleaner and slightly less chaotic. But still, the infrastructure problem remains somewhat difficult and the air quality is pretty terrible. If India could go solar, reduce corruption and build better roads, I would consider it to be in the running as a major world superpower (maybe that should be another post). The people in India are resilient and skilled in survival. 

Some scenes from our drive, 

guys painting a wall

laundry drying by the road

Typical business/residential building

Old and new all in one frame

The Average Joe - call Shibu if you need a driver in Kolkata

The problem of corruption was confirmed by our amazing driver, Shibu, who seemed to impress everyone who met him. Our relatives really liked him, my mom thought he was fantastic, and later, another relative commented on his demeanor. My mother talked politics with him for a while, and he seemed very much up-to-date on a lot of things. My mother was so intrigued by Shibu that she actually checked to see if he went to college (most drivers don’t go to college). Turns out he didn’t, but he did finish high school. So, my mom asked him all sorts of other questions, which really revealed a lot about life in India for an average joe.

First of all, the reason my mother thought he went to college was that he was more worldly than your average driver. After some inquiry, we learned that he’d driven giant trucks across all of India for a while. This was surprising because he looked very young (he’s actually 29). He’d basically seen a ton of the country. He’d ended up getting a job at this hotel as a driver because someone he knew at the truck driving place actually suggested he try this because he was good at it (and probably safer).

My mother’s line of questioning led us (good thing I understand Bengali) to uncover that he’d been really good at mechanical things like fixing cars and bicycles in his youth. He told us how he used to hang out at the garage after school to learn how cars worked. At that point, however, he said he had to make money because he was from a pretty poor family in a village, and his parents had nothing. He ended up having to pay for his sisters’ wedding (two sisters). Naturally, my mother was outraged about that, because she thought the sisters should be educated. But it then turned out that the guy’s mom was sick and needed treatment, and again, it was on his shoulders to pay for it. 

My mom then did her self-righteous American thing where she suggests he create a business or something for himself. For the record, I also sometimes go into this mode, but as I've gotten older, I try and be more realistic about what comes out of my mouth, and in particular, reminding myself that cultural factors are crucial and relevant rather than adhering to some kind of industrial-post-industrial economic model. India is even more complicated since it's post-colonial, industrial, and post-industrial basically all at the same time.

Creating a business in a corrupt and formerly communist state with an ages-long colonial history is pretty difficult, I imagine. Shibu explained to my mom (and me, passively) that what’s happening now is that most of the larger car dealerships are doing the servicing so small business wouldn’t have much of a chance against these guys. He also said that a lot of the newer cars are computerized and can no longer be serviced in a straightforward way. He seemed annoyed by big business. Shibu was complaining about corporate domination over individuals. He had told us before about how the hotel pays him some lame amount even though they are charging the guests an arm and a leg to stay there (relatively). He was, in short, complaining about The Man. Can’t really blame him. It makes sense. 

Some more scenes from our drive follow.  There's a lot of new construction amidst a lot of old-fashioned situations. 

new construction all over the place

old and new co-existing

Because his driving was blowing my mind (we almost hit, but did not hit a truck, a bus, a motorcycle, people, and a garbage truck), I told my mom to give him a fat tip, which I believe she did.

Anyway, we finally got to the area where my mother is going to rent this flat. It is in the part of Kolkata that is the historical center of the Bengali movie business. In addition, many musicians and artists live in the area. She was much, much happier with what I’d found. Part of her happiness stemmed from the fact that we were very close to her grandfather’s (and later uncle’s) home.

After we agreed that this flat would work, we ended up calling her uncle’s son, who now lives in the house (my mother’s cousin, I guess), and they were miraculously home. We stopped by their place to see the house. My mom talks about her childhood may be equally as much as IIT, come to think of it. Somehow that doesn’t annoy me, maybe because we all have a childhood, and listening to another adult talking about being a child is relatable (unless you had such a miserable childhood that you’d rather not remember).

In any event, based on my thoughts in this blog, I've resolved some of my issues with the IIT talk, and it could be that now I find my mother's penchant for childhood memories somewhat charming (to a limit). And speaking of memories...

At my own house in California, we have a photo of me as a baby, sitting in my great-grandmother's lap on the balcony of the house, alongside my great grandfather. Naturally, I figured we should get one more with me as an adult and my mom, who is now a grandmother. Maybe I'll get this one printed and stick it next to the other one. 

Balcony of memories

Three days in CCU in jumbled order

Day 2: The Ladies of IIT

The last few days have been interesting. I have never spent only three days in Kolkata. It has been an intriguing thing to be here with only my mother. Because she’s older now and gets tired more quickly (or at least admits to being tired), we had to keep boundaries on activities. No crazy trips, no adventurous curiosities or misguided tourist outings, all features of our previous trips to India seemed to have. Or, maybe she’s saving them for later. I think so because she kept lamenting that I had to go back so quickly. It is a pity that my mom didn’t get more chances to travel with her kids to see what she wanted to see in India. She had a growing list of places she wanted to show me more focused on her own memories rather than big-ticket items (e.g. Taj Mahal, which I've been to twice). 

The most important place my mother wants to see is her graduate school in Kharagpur. This place, Kharagpur, is the crown jewel of my mother's memories. In the late ’60s, she spent about three years at the most elite technical university in India. IIT is like the equivalent of going to MIT or Caltech. You need to be super brainy to set foot there. They admit only 2% of the students who apply or something ridiculous like that. She was there through her own merit and studying to get her Ph.D. in Statistics (which she was awarded in 1968). She did not have to pay for it because once you got in, it was paid for, I believe. This fact about my mother is burned like a tattoo in my mind. It is, let’s say, a very important part of her life. The subsequent events of her life always seemed to pale in comparison to IIT. This includes mundane things like getting married, being a supportive wife (which she was), having children, and running a household. All nuisances. My mother’s true passion in life was always to achieve the professional respect that men seem to be entitled to, even when they are less than amazing professionally. I think I share that viewpoint, but I've been lucky enough in my life to be able to attempt and pursue this less cultural weight than my mother had, although I have to say, the American Midwest also has a long way to go in terms of gender roles. I was lucky in some ways not to be tied to either one fully. It was a little freeing. 

Despite living with parents who were somewhat feminist in their thinking, I found the constant IIT reminder a little annoying for most of my life. It was partially because of the extreme elitism while being surrounded by a culture that valued stoic humility and understatedness (American Midwest).  But also, it was kind of like listening to a high school football quarterback who can’t stop talking about that game when he had to make the winning field goal. It was my mother’s glory story. And it got old for me, personally. The part that I was less sensitive to, as a child and adolescent, and then teenager, and even adult, was that my mother was eternally overshadowed by my father because she had taken on the role of the wife rather than equal professional. An unfortunate cultural baggage issue that she simply couldn’t resolve. The actual reality is that what she'd achieved in the 1960s remains a difficult challenge for women, even today. 

Day 2 (Glory days)

True to herself and IIT, she had already arranged (on Day 2 of my three-day stop in Kolkata), a reunion with her friends from IIT. These were only women. All of them were women who earned advanced degrees in technical subjects during the 1960s from an institute comprised mostly of men. Not only that, they had done so in one of the most blatantly patriarchal countries on Earth. Most of them went on to have careers as professors, heads of departments, and one even founded an entire school. These women are actually incredible individuals. I think there are a lot of interesting stories and experiences I'd love to hear.

We all had lunch together, and I got to know the ladies. This is when my excellent passive bilingualism really came in handy (the whole trip so far, really, even my less than excellent Hindi has been helpful).  I could respond in my mediocre Bengali pretty readily to all inquiries and took in fully these wonderful comments and personalities. I even got a few contact numbers, so maybe I will be able to collect a few stories.

Mom meeting her friends after ages

Lunch meeting

After lunch, the gals hung out a while longer and reminisced about old times. They even sang a song (I took a video, I knew this song as a kid and still kind of know it), ate sweets, and one of them even brought a bag full of books to share. It was so incredibly stereotypical and entirely within context. I understood all of it, and it explained everything about my parents, whom I've known out of context for my entire life. Bengalis of a very specific generation were like this. The Indian Bengali post-Independence Achievers.