Bhopal, a melting point of emotions

PC- indiarailinfo.com

 How I survived it, how I fell in love with it

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.

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.

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.

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.

Deepotsav at Gauhar Mahal. PC- Shayali Choudhury

Raisen Fort. PC-ibhopal.blogspot.com

A cave at Udaygiri. PC- Shayali Choudhury

Lokrang. PC-Gagan Nayar

Durga Pujo at TT Nagar Kali Bari. PC- Samyamoy Debnath

Tribal Museum. Pc- Suyash Dwivedi

Manav Sangrahalaya. PC- goibibo.com

Still from a play at Bharat Bhawan. This photograph is a special one too. PC- Partha Dutta

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.

Patiabazi near Kamla Park. PC- hindustantimes.com

The majestic Taj ul Masajid. PC-T.Khan Fotography

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.