The Great Eastern Hotel and (below) the seller of “magical” hair oil at Saras Mela in Salt Lake. Picture by Sanjoy Chattopadhyaya

Getting a Voter ID is no easy matter in West Bengal. But the process can provide one with unexpected insights.

A would-be voter was at Mayukh Bhavan, the Salt Lake office for matters related to Voter IDs, to apply for a duplicate card. She had lost her card. But first she had to get her “Part No.” and “Serial No.” from an official, numbers denoting the area she belonged to, according to election districts.

After standing in a long queue, when she reached the official, the lady got up and walked away from her seat to attend to her ringing mobile phone. Five minutes passed, six, seven…it was a vigorous conversation the lady was engaged in, but she showed no signs of fatigue. Our voter felt compelled to intervene.

“Didi, could you please attend to us?” she requested.

Didi was rendered speechless for a few seconds. When she came to, she said in a clear, ringing voice in a room thick with swarms of would-be voters: “This is the first time I have got up from my seat since morning. What do you think? We aren’t human beings or what?”

But the voter pressed her case. “We have a job, too. I can’t walk away when I have visitors. Besides, I am getting late.”

The official continued for a few more minutes on her cellphone and walked leisurely back to her seat. “I know that you have a job. I used to work in the private sector too. In Sector V. But there I couldn’t ever leave my seat. That’s why I have taken up a government job. It’s for benefits like these.”

So much for IT and its future in West Bengal.

Dust to dust

Great Eastern Hotel on Old Court House Street has been ground to dust. Only the thin walls of the façade remain. Both ends of Waterloo Street and British India Street where they meet Old Court House Street are covered with dust and ground brick generated by the demolition of the buildings inside the hotel compound that was between these two busy thoroughfares.

Old Court House Street also has a thick layer of the same grounded particles. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. That is a law of nature and it holds true for human beings as well for the structures they build.

Rapunzel’s rival?

Saras Mela at Salt Lake’s Central Park has brought an array of handicrafts and, with them, some hair-raising items.

A stall from Karnataka promises to reduce blood pressure with copper bracelets and blood sugar with herbal potions. But the item being pushed most is a bottle of oil that makes your hair grow long enough to rival Rapunzel.

“Many in our village have hair that trails the ground,” says one of the stall-keepers, Ganga, swishing back her own waist-long tresses. “It took me a year to grow this. Few inches longer and I’ll have it chopped and sold.”

Long hair fetches a handsome price — Rs 15,000 a kg. “Usually four or five of us pool in and we reach a kg. Our hair is then used for wig-making for films.” Though she does not know which actress has worn her hair, she wants to settle for no less than Madhuri Dixit in Devdas. “Imagine her floor-long hair in Dola re,” laughs her friend Savita.

At Rs 200 for the 200 ml bottle, every drop is precious. “Mix this oil with half a litre of coconut oil and apply it on the hair twice a week. Your head will be covered with hair in four months flat,” assures Ganga. The magic mix drew many customers. But Ganga will not say what goes into the oil. “That’s the best-kept secret of our village,” she winks.

(Contributed by Brinda Sarkar)