archives

I realised this morning while working in the studio that I'm suffering from a blog backlog. There is much to tell.

Yesterday I went to the offices of The Statesman newspaper at Chowringhee Square, which began publishing here in Calcutta on 15th January, 1875.

Wikipedia says of The Statesman: 'It opposed the shifting of India's capital from Calcutta to New Delhi in 1911 in the following terms: "The British have gone to the city of graveyards to be buried there." '

I am hoping to find some information on the death of Edward Alkin, my great-great grandfather. The staff were very helpful, and made some phone calls on my behalf to their Archives Store in Majherhat. Someone drew a map with instructions on how to get there and gave me an introduction to Nimai Ganguly who I will meet next week. I'll begin with December 1895 and January 1896.

darling

India Parcel Post has a service that is both practically and aethestically unequalled in any country I've visited. If your goods don't fit into an envelope, you find the person who is usually right outside, selling envelopes, staplers, glue sticks, cellotape and pens or sometimes sits on the footpath with a bundle of white material. They will then proceed to stitch your parcel into a perfect sleeve of white calico or cotton with white string. The seam is finished with a red or brown wax and each spot of wax is pressed with a seal.

The completed item is beautiful. I marvel at the contents being reduced to a form of clean white simplicity. I admire the touch of the hand in the sewing and sealing. And while I am slightly reluctant to let it go, it gives me a lot of pleasure to think about the receiver at the other end.

It's my friend Fenn Idle's birthday today. He is fifteen. I sent a present to him last week from Rashbehari Post Office. He lives in Darlinghurst, Sydney.

When I handed the parcel across the counter, the woman took it and began to type in the address. She looked up with a smile and said 'he lives somewhere called Darling? How nice.'

streetscape soundscape

The Khoj residency apartment is on a small lane that gets some vehicle traffic but its mostly a pedestrian thoroughfare linking Purna Das Road with Lake Terrace. The windows are always open and the sounds of the street flow in and out. I've grown to like it very much when I'm working. I don't have any music or tv here so during the day when I'm in the studio, the street is my connection to the world and what is happening outside.

Sweeping in the morning, the sounds (and smells) of food cooking in neighbouring apartments, conversations between mothers and children on their way to school, the guys downstairs loading the bottled-water truck, car horns from the street.

What I love though are the chants and calls of the different wallahs who take their wares and services around the streets. I think I've even started to recognise some. There are the broom and duster sellers, key cutters clanking their chains of keys, a man who sells coconuts, another with bananas and guavas. They come into range once they get into the lane and their songs gets louder. I stop working and look out to see who is going past and what they carry. If they stick close to the building, I can't see them at all. I can only hear their chants.

My favourite is the gadda-wallah, the mattress man, who carries a long stick with a wire attached. He plucks at the wire to accompany his song. It's quite loud and a bit twangy, like a loose guitar string. This instrument is also used to flick on to a mattress, which fluffs up the cotton inside.

calcutta rescue

On a previous visit to Kolkata, I met some people from an organisation called Calcutta Rescue. Set up by a British doctor in 1979, it's just one of many NGO's working to assist underprivileged people with healthcare and education. I won't go into too much detail about Calcutta Rescue, as their website has a lot of information about their work and various projects.

Last Thursday their adminstrator, Ben Christie, took several people, myself included, on a tour of their clinics and schools that are in Central and North Kolkata. It was a very humbling experience.

The first clinic we visited is within the grounds of Loreto Day School at Sealdah, one of the city's main railway stations. They mostly deal with cardio and diabetes, and some cancer patients and see up to 40+ people a day. There is also a vaccination program for children.

I was under the impression that these kind of clinics service the local neighbourhood, which they do but was surprised to learn that people also travel from outside of the city, from the rural areas of Bengal where there is little healthcare available for any serious medical conditions. I was amazed to hear that people also travel in to the clinics from other States like Orissa and Bihar.

The clinics diagnose and treat people daily, and as most of them rely on daily wages, Calcutta Rescue also gives them assistance for travel costs and provides a food package to ensure that they and their family will eat that night.

Next stop was Chitpur, in the far north of Kolkata on the river. This is their leprosy clinic, which is set up in the morning and taken down every night. This tedious daily process ensures the life of the clinic, as Ben explained to have one set up permanently would mean that in order to access the services, people would inevitably end up living there. That situation could create problems and even threaten closure of the clinic. So this is a better solution.

Leprosy is a curable disease but treatment can take up to a year or more, provided people with the disease can continue with their treatment daily. As you may be able to imagine, this is not always a simple thing. The doctor, clinic supervisor and volunteer nurses all work with the patients to help them maintain the treatment, to the point of going out to find people if they don't come back for ongoing treatment. Here as well people are diagnosed, given medication and also have their wounds dressed. It is a very practical set up, for example there is a shoe-maker at the clinic every day who individually fits the patients with soft shoes made from a micro-fibre material, a bit like neoprene. Incredibly important as when the disease progresses, the feet in particular lose all feelings. These shoes prevent injury and also make mobility a whole lot easier. I was very moved by this place, and the staff who work here.

The handicrafts workshop is also in the north of Kolkata. They have a group of about 10 people making items such as books, bags, cards and cushion covers are made. There are also weaving workshops outside the city in Canning where the fabrics are made into clothing given to the children. Both these workshops train both women and men in sewing skills to assist with giving them income opportunities.

And finally, Tala Park is where the first health clinic began and has now grown into the largest one. They treat around 120+ people a day. It was very busy, and like the one at Sealdah, people travel here from all over the city and from rural areas. Again, heart-rending. We met a boy, about 8 years old who had received second degree burns to his upper body and face. He wore a baseball cap but happily removed it to show that he had pretty much made a full recovery.

There is a school next door, with about 120 children in their 'formal' education program (structured classes and curriculum) and 65 in their 'informal' program. The informal program works with younger children to encourage them to have fun and enjoy learning and thereby getting them into the 'formal' program. It was obviously a huge success from the kids we met there. They were all busy drawing on chalkboards. Most of the children here come from the 'bustees' or very poor areas. All children are given their lunch time meal before school finishes for the day.

Calcutta Rescue, like many other groups, is doing fantastic work. Here is the link to their website: http://www.calcuttarescue.org/

string of pearls

At Lake Market, there are several flower vendors or phulwallahs. Right now they have red and yellow roses, marigolds, gladiolis, tuberose and lots of varieties of jasmine. I love the white scented flowers, and watching the men thread them into garlands is mesmerising. They sit on low wooden tables and work, enveloped in sweet perfume.

bagh, baaaaagh, jai bagh

Achintya was putting the finishing touches on the claywork on Saturday morning, in preparation for taking the mould during the week.

A young girl walked by. She turned and looked in, saw the tiger and with huge eyes, tugged on her mother's hand and said 'baaagh'.

She came inside and peered into the tiger's face and said:

'bagh, baaaaagh, jai bagh!'

tiger, tiger, hail tiger!

ninety nine

Last Saturday May Levy passed away.

May was born in Calcutta and lived here most of her life. I first met her in Perth when she was staying at Hazel Galbraith's home, the epicentre of Anglo-Indian gatherings in Western Australia since I can remember. Weekly card games, tennis (when they were all just a little younger) and vast amounts of delicious Indian food.

Each time I've come back here, I spend time with May. She had lots of stories and I was always keen to hear them. In 2005, she moved out of her apartment on Chowringhee Road where she had lived for more than 40 years and into the Loreto Convent on Middleton Row.

This was taken in 2007.

I called in to see May last Tuesday, the day after I arrived. When I sat down next to her bed, it was clear that the thread connecting her to this world was very fragile. She opened her eyes three times, squeezed my hand and said 'thank you for coming to see me'.

She celebrated her ninety-ninth birthday in September.