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| PC- indiarailinfo.com |
How I survived it, how I fell in love with it
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| Makhanlal Chaturvedi National University of Journalism. PC-mcu.ac.in |
“You should apply for Makhanlal
Chaturvedi National University of Journalism in Bhopal, the oldest university
of journalism in Asia,” said a cousin, who was also an alumnus. The seeds of desire
for the buzzing ‘life in a metro’, with its glitz and glamour, had already been
sown, and Bhopal did not fit into the scheme of things. Little did I know 7 years down the road I
would still be sitting in Bhopal and writing this!
It was evident for the parents of
someone who was freshly in her 20s and setting a foot in the ‘big-bad-world’
for the first time, to pack a formidable list of advices along with the
luggage. From ‘how to tame the hormones that go bonkers at this age’ to ‘how to
not tarnish the family’s reputation’ were the lessons imparted by my
grandmother before she deemed me prepared for the battlefield. And thus began
the journey…
The army of bicycles parked
outside the Bhopal Junction was the first thing to catch my fancy, followed by
the chain of lakes. For a girl who had lived in almost a parallel universe and
seen the world only through filters of North East and West Bengal, Bhopal came by
as a shock; culturally , emotionally as well as intellectually. I could not
decipher the meaning of ‘Ama Khan’ or
why it was ‘pese’, ‘ese’, ‘aando’, ‘jaando’ in this
part of the country. I did not know a state could be vegan (until I was made to
spend two painful fish-less years in the college hostel). And it was near hysteria
to know there existed a world where my undernourished Hindi would be put to
test every day.
The first few months were
tormenting; especially a hostel life of inconsiderate restrictions and the challenging
mess food made it so. However, things eventually gave way. Homesickness got replaced by
impish pranks in the hostel, friendship became filial and Bhopal started making
more sense. College days became fun and hostel became a way of life.
A life that had only revolved
around Guwahati started seeing
skerrick of thrill in the narrow alleys of New
Market, the picturesque road of VIP
and also in the half-an-hour saunter from MCU
to 7No.
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| VIP Road. PC-Adnan Ali |
Two years passed in a jiffy
and it was time to leave the city behind. However, before that could happen, destiny
was all set with perhaps its ‘best laid plan’. During the last few months in
the city an encounter happened; unprecedented and unfathomed. A meet with
someone turned to many more and a saga unfolded.
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| Sunrise at Tekri. PC- Shayali Choudhury |
Most
of my friends who’ve been a part of the narrative of my life over the past few
years have always acknowledged its downright semblance to ‘Wake up Sid’; à la Ayesha Banerjee, I landed in the City of Lakes with the hope of becoming a journalist and eventually
met my ‘Sid’. Barring a few exceptions in the script; my life
looked like scenes neatly sliced out of the flick. An exciting new job in
one of the biggest newspaper brands, a small flat with big glass windows
overlooking a forest full of peacocks, and unbridled independence; life was
bliss in all aspects. Only that my ‘Sid’ never moved in with me, and the wait
to have his mother at my place with cartons of mangoes have been unmet in the
last 5 years!
Every time a friend draws parallel
between my life to the avant garde and rebellious Ayesha Banerjee, I am
reminded of her ‘new girl in the city’. As a big fan of the movie and having
watched it a zillion times, it would otherwise be needless to mention how I
absolutely love the way she captivated the feeling of Mumbai in her words. I
was greatly inspired by the piece and similarly wanted to pay a similar tribute to the
amazing city Bhopal that has changed
my life in ways more than one in the last few years.
Of course my ‘Sid’ was a
paramount reason for making me fall hopelessly in love with the City of Nawabs,
but there are reasons more than one.
Bhopal is special; so much so
that I could hardly survive the national capital for even a year. Each week off
would bring me back to Bhopal and the first thing I’d do after getting off the
train is inhale the air that felt so crisp, sense the sounds that felt so familiar
to the ears and admire everything that incited a feeling of belonging. And soon
I returned to Bhopal, more appropriately was forced by my heart (that I had
been denying for a while) to return to the ‘heart of India’. The last couple of
months, i.e. since the time I quit my despicable job, I had every reason to
move out and join the metropolitan brigade like my school and college mates.
Finding a job outside Bhopal looked convenient, however, something held me
back. Thanks to this place I love, it taught me to follow my heart. The compelling
desire of staying back in Bhopal made me choose struggle over a life of comfort
and ease.
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| A dazzling Bhopal. Pc- Adnan Ali |
I have tried to reason out my
love for Bhopal on several occasions, and when I sit to ponder upon it, I get a
new ground every time. I don’t know if it’s the small apartment or the
independence. May it is the ten-minute vigorous walk to the bus-stop every day
to reach the office stuffed like chickens in 11 No., or may be the excitement of visiting the Bittan Market ‘haat’ with a jhola every
Saturday, bargaining with fish-mongers and having the last word. Sometime it
is the happiness of enjoying a good theatre day at Bharat Bhawan, also once a while it’s singing my heart out sitting
pillion while my roomie zooms through the city in her modest purple scooty.
That sparkling coffee at Starbucks could never match the taste of the leftover
chocolate in the glass of cold coffee at Vishnu
Chinese ( I like it more than Sagar Gaire) that has been a bone of contention between ‘him’ and me forever. A
shoulder to rest upon and a comforting touch while watching the sun kiss the
horizon during sunset at Kalisot or admiring
it pop up from the skyline with a cup of steaming coffee at Tekri is an alien feeling elsewhere.
Making small purchases at the regular craft fair at Gauhar Mahal is equally special as watching the latest animated
movie with buddies at Cinepolis. And
then there are midnight revelries; from storming to Nadra bus-stand for poha to put midnight hunger pangs to rest, to
satiating the cardinal glutton in me by savouring the world’s most delicious
tikkas and kebabs outside Moti Masjid. Bhopal is as much as wandering without
purpose on VIP road at the wee
hours, as it is shopping at Chowk Bazaar
for an extra saving. It is as much the ecstasy of window shopping at DB Mall as much as it is getting
drenched in nostalgia while passing by the girls
hostel of MCU each time. The sight of Bhopal
Junction after a long trip is as welcoming as that of dropping by the
friend’s music studio at MP Nagar in
the dark and getting a song recorded without any rhyme or reason. Bhopal is
watching with amusement the aesthete bongs at TT Nagar Kali Bari
getting possessed by the soul of ‘Kobi Guru’ or ‘Bidrohi Kobi’ when ‘Poila
Boishak’ or ‘Durga Pujo’ is around as much as it is travelling all the way to Piplani from Shahpura to enjoy ‘Roshogolla’ and ‘cham-cham’ at Gaurav Sweets and the unhygienic
Bangali rolls at Babai Roll Centre. Bhopal
is special because of the sudden getaway plans to Udaygiri or Raisen Fort,
as much as it is being at my ‘Sid’s’
house to devour the extra helping of delicious Bangali meal his mom cooks.
It is appreciating folk artistes at Lok
Rang every January, as much as it is having the heart in the mouth sitting in a giant's wheel at Bhopal Utsav Mela
every year or sitting alone and watching the lamest movie under the sun at Rangmahal, a friend's cinema hall that has also been a lynchpin of elation each time.
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| Deepotsav at Gauhar Mahal. PC- Shayali Choudhury |
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| Raisen Fort. PC-ibhopal.blogspot.com |
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| A cave at Udaygiri. PC- Shayali Choudhury |
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| Lokrang. PC-Gagan Nayar |
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| Durga Pujo at TT Nagar Kali Bari. PC- Samyamoy Debnath |
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| Tribal Museum. Pc- Suyash Dwivedi |
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Manav Sangrahalaya. PC- goibibo.com
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Still from a play at Bharat Bhawan. This photograph is a special one too. PC- Partha Dutta
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Bhopal is special because of visiting friends during Eid as much as
it is watching the night-sky getting painted during Diwali. Bhopal is the
feeling of happiness seeing a temple and a mosque standing tall next to each
other as much as it is the feeling of adrenaline rush spotting youngsters
perform wheelies and stoppies or meddling with the mud on
their assembled jeeps and Thars. The majestic view of the city with its
cascading lakes from Birla Mandir
makes Bhopal as much distinctive as being awe-struck by the opulence of Tribal Museum, Manav Sangrahalaya and the illuminated minars of Taj-ul-masajid. It is the excitement of capturing a
‘wild cat’ with mobile camera at Van
Vihar, as much as it is enjoying a quiet dinner at the Kerwa Resort or flocking to Bhadbada every time the dam gate opens. Bhopal is the essence of purchasing an intrinsically
designed ‘batua’ in Zari Zardozi as
much as it is admiring people sitting and enjoying each other’s baloney at Kamla Park. It is equally special because of
the ‘limited-yet-organic’ friends I’ve made over the years. Above all, Bhopal
is special for its people, the most humble and hospitable lot in the world,
especially the one who’s held my hand firm in all these years, making it a chimerical
voyage so far.
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| Patiabazi near Kamla Park. PC- hindustantimes.com |
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| The majestic Taj ul Masajid. PC-T.Khan Fotography |
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| Adrenaline Rush. PC- Team Bhopal Stunt Riders |
When I think of it, Bhopal for me is more than a city; it
is an everlasting emotion, a volley of feelings that I’ve ensnared over
the last seven years. Bhopal is a conscious choice, not a compulsion. It is the urge
of unconditionally loving the city I adopted; the city that adopted me.
PS- This is a post-dated piece as
technically I completed 7 years in the state capital of the ‘heart of India’ on
July 15.
