“Baba re, Behala! Sheta toh Kolkata-r baiyre (Oh my God, Behala! That’s outside Kolkata).
If you, like us, are a Behala-bashi, we’re sure you must have heard this at least once.
Nobody knows where Behala exactly begins and where it ends. But no matter which part of the densely populated residential locality you live in, you're not a Kolkatan for the rest of Kolkata. Or are you?
“I live closer to civilization,” a colleague quipped the other day after learning about our Behala roots.
It was a joke, like many other ones we have heard growing up in Kolkata. They don’t get under our skin anymore.
But here’s a fun fact: Behala is officially south Kolkata. It isn’t that far away from “civilization”.
After several years of calling Behala home, here is our personal balance sheet of the good and the not-so-good and the perception that needs to change.
The metro that came too late — but it did
One of us grew up with trams rattling down Diamond Harbour Road with the tracks laid on a lush green carpet of grass. When the trams were withdrawn, first partially in 2006 for the Taratala flyover, and then completely for the metro project in 2011, we let them go happily. We imagined fast commutes and seamless connectivity.
After almost a decade of waiting, the metro arrived. But the Purple Line felt underwhelming. Long waiting times, irregular services and stations that never quite matched our daily routes made it into a toy train.
We lost the nostalgia of trams and gained a metro that still feels incomplete.
But there is a silver lining: We and our neighbours expect property prices to skyrocket soon, thanks to our very own toy train service.
Roads that never heal
Just when we adjusted to dug-up roads for metro construction, flyover repairs and endless pipeline work, came the shock of the Majerhat Bridge collapse in 2018.
Overnight, one of our crucial links to the rest of the city snapped for two years. Traffic crawled for months, detours became routine and reaching anywhere in Kolkata felt like planning an expedition.
In 2020, we got the Jai Hind Setu to replace the Majherhat Bridge. But even today, back-to-back two flyovers haven’t helped. Behala residents instinctively check traffic updates before stepping out and get cancelled by cabs the moment one answers their question, “Kothay jaben?”
Brands have arrived, malls have not
When Max opened in Behala, the excitement was palpable. The first few weeks were chaotic, packed with shoppers. Every youngster was at Max. On a Saturday evening, one of us bumped into three girls from school on three different floors. The three-storey showroom arranged for a reunion better than the alumni association.
But now Max has slowly lost its novelty. Behala residents wanted more variety, more brands, more choice. So, the nearest proper mall experience still requires a drive out to South City or Forum Courtyard.
Water in taps, water on roads, water everywhere
A reservoir-cum-booster pumping station was built to improve the water supply in parts of Behala. And to be fair, tap water has become more reliable.
But every monsoon, the phrase “Behaal Behala” trends for a reason. Large stretches go underwater after heavy rain, and streets resemble canals.
Step outside and you might have to roll-up your jeans and gear up for some unwanted watersport — it is not for nothing that boats-in-Behala memes go viral every monsoon.
An indoor stadium that mostly hosts school events
As a college student, we imagined concerts, exhibitions and cultural festivals lighting up our evenings when the Satyajit Ray Indoor Stadium came up.
Years later, major events still prefer central venues like Netaji Indoor Stadium.
We may lack public amenities, but optimism is our superpower.
Maybe someday Coldplay might land at Behala Flying Club for a concert at our own indoor stadium.
We have our own food street — no pun intended
James Long Sarani has transformed dramatically. Cafes, family restaurants and big chains have mushroomed over the past few years. From quick-service joints to elaborate dining spaces, Behala no longer feels starved for food options. We have everything from KFC to Barbeque Nation.
But try looking for a pub — a proper one. You might be disappointed.
Ajanta Bar and Quincy Bar-cum-Restaurant are still the only places where food can be paired with alcohol. We never felt particularly welcome walking into these spaces. So, we still travel to Southern Avenue, Park Street or elsewhere.
Friendships, connections and a thriving para culture
Living in Behala means constantly negotiating between pride and inconvenience. We are teased for living “too far”, mocked for waterlogging, and pitied for connectivity. But when five Behala-bashis get together, we gang up. The feeling of community is strong and we have the para culture still thriving. Everyone knows everyone in Behala, and everyone is Sourav Ganguly’s neighbour.
