Victoria Monument, I didn’t actually go inside.

Kolkata. Calcutta. I don’t know. I don’t understand you and I don’t think I ever will.

I arrived late in the afternoon and in a bit of a mess to this unruly city and was soon out in the centre of it. I wandered around, shrouded, attempting to minimise the incessant staring. I was uncomfortable, hot and hungry and I had no idea how things worked. What bothered me most was the hordes of gaping men everywhere, their eyes boring holes in me. Every eatery I passed was swarmed by flies and rubbish or filled with men, or both. Eventually I forced myself into a hole in the wall greasy spoon for a fabulous chilli paneer kathi roll. But more on that later.

After inhaling dinner on the street, I got back to my hostel just as the rain started. The monsoon arrives early here. Somewhat exhilarated by my successes I watched some hilarious Indian TV. The next morning on my way to buy some new, more appropriate, clothes (before I realised that nothing here opens before 10am at the very earliest), there were goats just across the way. GOATS! (C’mon, India was new to me at this point, I’d yet to get goated out).

My time spent in Kolkata was mostly devoted to being OK with this. I bought clothes and just figured shit out, really. One morning I was up really early, and the streets were eerily quiet. Every so often a yellow cab rolled through the mist, human rickshaws trotted by and chai stalls served sleepy customers. It felt like the India I had imagined, the India I knew from movies and photographs. There were loads of people around going about their business, no one was talking to me. I figured this scene was repeated daily and not feeling at ease as yet I left my camera in my bag. Maybe I just never felt this way again here, but I never saw Kolkata like this again.

One day I visited the Victoria Monument before the heat set in. I sat in the park, ate a samosa from a bag made of newspaper and enjoyed the quiet. On my way back to the town a man tried to talk to me, I ignored him (I was ignoring everyone at the stage, every “yes ma’am” and “hello sister” was scratching at my very soul), he countered with “but sister, don’t be sad, you’re in India!”. I’m not sad, I’m just totally freaked out.