Recently, we had been to a 'decent' locality called Salt Lake, which is near the office, in search of a place to live in Kolkata. When we reached the sole place that we were able to find - either vacant or one who had not refused us accommodation because we were vegetarians- a small room with two beds and enough space in between for one person to stand, lay in front of us.

The area is located near a swamp, which is rumoured to take on a black colour in the evenings (due to the layer of mosquitoes spread over the water). Talking with each other then becomes difficult since half the energy is spent in coughing out the mosquitoes that have entered all your canals. I put this 'forced silence' as a positive point in this room while Sridhar counted it amongst the other negative points. Dinner was provided till 9:00pm and if one needed warm water, it was to be carried from a common geyser on the first floor to the ground floor. Heaps of used Mortein mosquito coils stood as a telling proof of what 'comfortable' and 'decent' stay we would have had.

As we roamed around outside, we found two shops - a cigarette shop and a dhobi's hutment. There were no hotels, no roadside 'roll-stalls', and no fruit shops - not even grocery shops. Perhaps, this being where the 'decent' people live, they have enough money to travel by car to the nearest shopping complex. There was a huge bus stop nearby, so we could commute till the E.M. bypass easily. From there a cab and a hundred rupees could have seen us reach Central Kolkata for some food and entertainment. Any thoughts of saving this money meant spending the night sitting on the bed and looking at each other's faces. Since we are quite 'straight' (Sridhar being married and I being happy) - it did not seem to be a good proposition; but for that solitary plus point of silence that I had gathered.

Cross it out!

Finally, the option left for us was to shift to Maharashtra Nivas located on Hazra Road in South Kolkata. I was looking forward to it, since unlike Sridhar's uncertainty of stay due to professional politics, mine was fixed for the next year. Some of my friends have pitied my 'fate' to have to work in Kolkata for the next eight months, to which I have maintained a smile. But now, it's my turn.

I wish to tell them that living in Kolkata in Maharashtra Nivas is something that none of you can ever get, you all are quite unfortunate in this aspect. Read on and envy me!

There is some American convention coming to Kolkata this week and as such almost all the rooms are booked in advance since September. The manager told us to shift to the dormitory for this week. It was a great change from the Camac Street company guesthouse to the Nivas.

The room was quite spacious - the essential furniture of a bed with a mattress and a pillow provided for each person. There are about twenty people staying here and a line of clothes hangs over your head. There are half-broken hooks on the walls where you can attempt to hang your clothes. The fans are not necessarily 1912, but sure seem from a bygone era. A wooden table serves as a dressing table cum writing desk and doubles up, with two racks below it, as a cupboard (open at both ends). It is to be shared amongst three of four people.

As you peep from the balcony, you can see what's cooking and the aroma is a great appetizer. Later on one can even supervise - though silently - how the vessels are being washed.

Sleeping at night is fun given the various snoring voices that arise from different parts of the room and early in the morning I am woken by some person trying to cough out his intestine in an attempt to clear his throat. Sounds sweet compared to the 'harsh ringing' of the alarm for the past few days.

The funniest part is waiting for your turn to get your bowels cleared. Those Mumbaiites, who have lived in chawls, with one toilet shared between at least ten houses, would know the amount of penance one needs to do in order to achieve this good fortune. The toilet is just enough to accommodate a sitting person of width not more than 42 inches. So if anybody fatter wants to shift to Maharashtra Nivas, make a separate arrangement for the toilet before you enter.

The overhead tank generally spills more water on you than in the toilet bowl and 'leaks' the water only when the chain is released. This was new to me, since I have seen the flushes releasing water when you pull the chain and those types who even when wrestled with, refuse to 'cry'. But this one, which lets go of water when you release the chain, was new.

There is a huge cauldron of water over a small stove being heated for warm water. If you are lucky and the previous one takes longer to take a bath, you are gifted with hot water; else you are unfortunate to have lukewarm water. The person taking the water out has to refill what he takes out, making things a bit complicated. I did not refill it - broke the rule, only to find that Sridhar was benefited since he was the next to take a bath. The lesser quantity of water left back was well heated. For a couple of days, people washing clothes, taking all the time in the world, have disrupted my attempts to take a decent bath. And I have reconciled to having a bath once in two days.

It was nice the first night - having got to eat Maharashtrian food after quite a long time and without having to reply to those regular questions asked by the guesthouse keeper - "Sahib, aaj khane main kya banaon?" Not having to take a decision as to what you need to eat is something that makes me most happy.

The arrangement of the food was like a marriage - long rows of wooden tables and the servants serving whatever you ask for. Those typical four-compartment, pickle-salt-salad-chutney vessels, remind me of long forgotten marriages. These days any marriage just does not happen in those nostalgic ways. I had almost forgotten how old marriages looked like, given the age of buffet dinners, and having seen that such things do exist, my dislike of modern day marriage celebrations is going to increase.

After all what is a marriage? Though Shaw says it's legal prostitution, an old Sanskrit shloka says:

"Kanya varayate roopam, mata vittam, pita shruti,
bandhavaha kulam ichanti, mishtanam itare janah"

(The bride looks for appearance, the mother for money, father looks out for knowledge and the relatives look out for caste. Rest all look out for food.)

And if it is the food, which is dealt with in a manner that says, "Go and have it" then what's the fun? It should happen that the bride's or groom's parents come up and talk to you. Some eligible uncle talks with the kids in an attempt to catch the attention of their eligible sisters. There is a loud 'cry' before you attack the food, and then there is a forceful rendering of a couple of more jalebis...

Well, I am straying. So, where was I? Ah! Marriage-like atmosphere and a Maharashtrian meal! Trust me, there is nothing like the food of your own territory that can satisfy you. Even the water tastes different in the Maharashtra Nivas.

At night, we go for a stroll. To our great surprise, on the first day, we saw a newspaper stall; some fruit vendors, some grocery shops, a couple of roadside dhabas and pav-bhaji, "anda-bhurji" stalls where we could have food at night too! We also saw a "FAX, ISD, STD, PCO, Xerox" centre - something that I have been yearning to see for days now! The mandatory poverty and prostitution were conspicuous in the by-lanes and the trams and buses could be seen chugging along the roads with loads of people. There is also the Purna cinema nearby, which is slightly worse than the Kohinoor of Dadar market, playing "Maa tujhe Salaam".

Before we retired for the night, we felt a slight itching sensation as we touched the beds. Sridhar remarked, "If there are any bed bugs then they wouldn't be so fast in acting upon our 'phoren' blood."

But these days, I don't believe people so fast.

And so it was, as Sridhar found the first of them and our trip from Camac Street to Maharashtra Nivas was just complete!