We spent all day in the train. Moving toward the east resulted in an unexpectedly early sunrise and I was up and about from 5:30am. Soon after, I realized that my suitcase's lock combination was accidentally reset. I then spent the next twenty minutes trying every combination from 0-0-0 to 9-9-9 to finally unlock the suitcase and access my toothbrush. I spoke to Chikoo's mom, read my book and looked out the window for the next couple of hours before Chikoo finally awoke. Breakfast and tea came along. The little girl, Anushree, who was with us was up too and was causing havoc in her wake. We had a big chunk of our journey still ahead of us. By 10am, it felt like afternoon and we were beginning to wonder how we'd keep ourselves occupied until eight at night.
We read some more, took out our map of Calcutta and made a list of the places we want to visit and ate some more. We went up to the top berth and watched several episodes of Modern Family, Vicky Christina Barcelona (Woody Allen is a lunatic and a genius) and Chocolat. Vicy C. B. left me thinking about human desire and relationships in a spiritual, deeper sense and it picked at my mind. Chikoo and I discussed it at some length before starting to watch Chocolat. I was excited to watch this movie for three reasons. (1) Johnny Depp. (2) I just finished reading the book and I loved it. (3) I vaguely remembered seeing it years ago but hardly remembered any of it. Elaborating on point two, this book was one which sucked me in every time I picked it up. The descriptions are beautiful and palpable- be it of a person or the making of chocolate itself. I fell in love with some characters and learned to hate some. By the end of it, I felt like I knew each and every single person mentioned in that book inside out. Like as though, if I were to visit that little Chocolaterie and wait for customers, I'd recognize everyone who walked through those doors. The movie, although wonderfully made and full of commendable performances, fell terribly short of my expectations. It cut down on the story line, the background behind the characters and changed the villain altogether. I was left with a longing for more, a disappointment. But I digress.
We were on the train.
We sat and talked and talked and looked at each other and out the window and into our food trays. We sat around watching Anushree dancing about and talking non stop. We helplessly listened to slow Bengali songs that a man in the adjacent berth was playing out loud. We made several visits to the loo to answer nature's continuous call. We grew more and more restless as we approached the end of our journey. We spent the last few minutes playing Atlas, trying to keep from getting cranky. Then, finally, we reached our destination. Howrah station.
We got off, walked along with the crowd to the taxi stand where there stood a number of yellow Ambassador taxis. It was warm outside, even though it was night. We waited for a cab, got in and began to drive out of the station. We passed mini buses with 'HOWRAH' written along their sides in bright yellow, red and green. Chikoo and her mom began to point out little things to me here and there. Within a couple of minutes, we took a U-turn and got onto the Howrah bridge. It is large and intricate and really, very beautiful. Being night, it was fully lit up and the wind caught my hair. When we were on the bridge, as I leaned back against my seat to take a photo out the back window, I was suddenly struck by the fact that I was, indeed, in Calcutta. And I swear, in that moment, "We Were Infinite."
We read some more, took out our map of Calcutta and made a list of the places we want to visit and ate some more. We went up to the top berth and watched several episodes of Modern Family, Vicky Christina Barcelona (Woody Allen is a lunatic and a genius) and Chocolat. Vicy C. B. left me thinking about human desire and relationships in a spiritual, deeper sense and it picked at my mind. Chikoo and I discussed it at some length before starting to watch Chocolat. I was excited to watch this movie for three reasons. (1) Johnny Depp. (2) I just finished reading the book and I loved it. (3) I vaguely remembered seeing it years ago but hardly remembered any of it. Elaborating on point two, this book was one which sucked me in every time I picked it up. The descriptions are beautiful and palpable- be it of a person or the making of chocolate itself. I fell in love with some characters and learned to hate some. By the end of it, I felt like I knew each and every single person mentioned in that book inside out. Like as though, if I were to visit that little Chocolaterie and wait for customers, I'd recognize everyone who walked through those doors. The movie, although wonderfully made and full of commendable performances, fell terribly short of my expectations. It cut down on the story line, the background behind the characters and changed the villain altogether. I was left with a longing for more, a disappointment. But I digress.
We were on the train.
We sat and talked and talked and looked at each other and out the window and into our food trays. We sat around watching Anushree dancing about and talking non stop. We helplessly listened to slow Bengali songs that a man in the adjacent berth was playing out loud. We made several visits to the loo to answer nature's continuous call. We grew more and more restless as we approached the end of our journey. We spent the last few minutes playing Atlas, trying to keep from getting cranky. Then, finally, we reached our destination. Howrah station.
We got off, walked along with the crowd to the taxi stand where there stood a number of yellow Ambassador taxis. It was warm outside, even though it was night. We waited for a cab, got in and began to drive out of the station. We passed mini buses with 'HOWRAH' written along their sides in bright yellow, red and green. Chikoo and her mom began to point out little things to me here and there. Within a couple of minutes, we took a U-turn and got onto the Howrah bridge. It is large and intricate and really, very beautiful. Being night, it was fully lit up and the wind caught my hair. When we were on the bridge, as I leaned back against my seat to take a photo out the back window, I was suddenly struck by the fact that I was, indeed, in Calcutta. And I swear, in that moment, "We Were Infinite."
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