The first colourful confusion I ever had was the rainbow. And then Calcutta. I am four months old in the city and still in the process of discovering it. When I step out from my humble abode, the various meanings of ‘dada’ hit me. I learn ‘dada’ is not just Sourav Ganguly, but every elder brother out here.

Anyway, as a bleary-eyed nomad I have moved into a city which my well-wishers had warned me against, describing it as a closed society with Communist values and atheist leanings cocktailed with Kali worship. Of course, I was scared. The point is, “I was”.

With my briefcase and the trailing street dog, I hurriedly try to hail a cab… errr… there are various modes of commutation; embarrassment of riches if you like. The commuter is spoilt for choice: Autos, cabs, trams, metro, buses, cycle-rickshaws — and tana (handpulled) rickshaws. Well, to survive and commute stress-free, I traded the first Bengali phrase that every outsider is taught: Ami tomake bhalobashi (I love you) with apnar kaache khuchro aachhe? (do you have change?) Survival of the fittest! I do get a cab.

I wonder if the girls here are all mass-produced from one beautiful woman. I mean, everyone looks gorgeous. And they are not dumb, it makes them even more attractive; no wonder girls marry late here. They dress trendy and traditional; are aggressive, they socialise, and of course, they are unapologetic about themselves. And I thought only Susmita Sen and Bipasha lived here. Sigh!

The cab gets stuck in the perpetual middle-of-the-road jam. Ahead of me I see a dais, with a well-meaning spotless white kurta-attired citizen atop it, if you can call a drawing table a dais, that is. Three chairs are occupied by an 80-year-old man, a dozing schoolboy and a woman. The meeting sets the cab driver talking… he hands out an instant review of the topic and moves into current affairs and then into his memoirs. Everyone has an opinion here. And almost no one is a vegetarian. Well, I am no exception either.

My workplace is in Salt Lake and it seems to have all the IT sharks in the arena and the concrete forest vouches for it. The birth pangs of a developed city have started! As the day comes to an end, I take my customary cab from work. Destination Park Street, of course.On my way I pass two boys playing chess, who are not only competing with each other at the side of the road, but also seeming to challenge the entire traffic.

My journey culminates. Park Street is the most happening street. I have my choices here — it could be the modest Olypub or a plush Atrium. I mean, what do you expect if you ask a 26-year-old?

Cut it!

I walk back home after another day in this city only to find a teenager in shorts on the sidewalk strumming a guitar and striking a note that doesn’t sound right…well, it makes me smile.