Walking the multicultural talk

Confluence of Cultures, a walk through the "grey town" area of Kolkata, takes in a unique microcosm of religious co-existence

Before it acquired its status of decaying provincialism as Kolkata, Calcutta was one of India's most multicultural cities. As a bustling centre of commerce in a colonial empire that stretched, almost unbroken after World War I, from Egypt west of the Suez to the Straits of Malacca in the South China Sea, Calcutta welcomed communities from around the globe to make the city their home.

Proof of this insouciant tolerance, which only sustained global business links can foster, can be gained from a three-hour stroll across five square kilometres between the "white town", where the British had their manicured residences, offices and clubs, and the northern "black town, where the "natives", as the British called them, lived. Called the "grey town" because it was an area comprising people who didn't fall into the two categories above, this was where people from widely differing social and religious cultures - Anglo Indians, Chinese, Jews, Muslims, Armenians and Parsis - lived and did business, representing a unique microcosm of multicultural co-existence.

This walk, titled Confluence of Cultures, is organised by Calcutta Walks, a small tour company set up by a bunch of youngsters - they call themselves "Explorers". It is one of several tours of the city's gamin, engaging cultural diversity that this company organises. Even for someone like me who neglectfully passed these areas for years as a resident, there was a charm in rediscovering a past that can make all Calcuttans - if not Kolkatans - proud.

We start at a tiny bylane called Buddhist Temple Street because it has, well, a Buddhist temple said to be built by a monk who tried to revive Buddhism in Bengal. It remains a guest house for visiting Buddhists from around the world. Turn the corner and there are the bright red rows of apartments called Bow Barracks, so named because they were the quarters of British soldiers during World War II. The sturdy plumbing - the type that can rarely be had these days - is still in evidence.

Bow Barracks apartments

Bow Barracks is now home to a dwindling Anglo-Indian population but the sense of community remains strong. A blackboard, mid-square, proclaims an impending entertainment with the information "Tickets with Uncle Tankie" chalked alongside. If you're there around Christmas, you are likely to get a slice of peerless Christmas cake from a long-time resident.

Down another bylane, Bengal's rambunctious and anachronistic politics intervene. There's a sign tacked up proclaiming that this was the Central Kolkata branch of the "All-India Anti-Imperialist Forum". Along another lane are roughly painted signs warning violators of a princely fine of Rs 100 for urinating, scarcely a deterrent if the heavy stench of urine is anything to go by.

Then suddenly we're down an impeccable bylane, looking at the dignified façade of the city's only fire temple or agiary, established in 1912. Like elsewhere, its inner sanctum is out of bounds for non-Parsis. But the spirit of accommodation in this area of the city is well in evidence in the signboard of a Chinese restaurant assuring fastidious or religiously observant non-Chinese customers that it serves neither beef nor pork.

Just around the corner in Tiretta Bazar, apparently named after an Italian businessman, beef, pork and other unidentifiable meats (old Calcuttans were convinced the succulent chicken was actually frog) stewed and fried in delicious ways can be had at the city's famed Chinese breakfast. I was too late for it - the weekly spice haat had already taken its place - but memories of a unique cuisine not to be found in any of India's many Indianised Chinese joints were sharp.

Chinese Temple in Chhatawala Gullee

Abutting the market and near a squalid street inexplicably called Chhatawala Gullee (there were no sign of umbrella shops) is the charming Chinese Temple, bright with dragons and red paint. It is the first day of the lunar month so worshippers are making burnt offerings to the deity to the accompaniment of a drum and gong operated by an obliging old man who also appears to be a book-keeper. Down below, the last of the sadly diminishing local Chinese newspapers is on a table. On the wall is a sepia-tinted framed photo of Sun Yat-sen, founding father of the Chinese Republic. Understandably, there is no photo of his protege, Chiang Kai-shek, whose loss to Mao Zedong in 1950 precipitated the mass exodus of many mainland Chinese to, among other places, Calcutta.

Now it's down the local business district, Burrabazar, and its pavement is crowded with shanty shops offering cheap shoes from China, readymade garments, trinkets and other fascinating bric-a-brac. Trams thunder past carrying the first of the city's working population. It's an unlikely setting for the imposing Nakhoda Masjid, the soaring, elegant façade scarred and defaced by a network of cables. The mosque, whose construction started in the late 1920s by a Kutchi businessman with a vast shipping empire (Nakhoda roughly translates to mariner), remains the city's principal mosque, the one from which the Eid moon is proclaimed.

Close by is the superbly maintained Portuguese Church (built in the 1700s). Dedicated to the Virgin Mary, whose robust statue dominates the exterior, the stained glass and rich mahogany pews inside add a touch of sacred sobriety to the cheerful sign at the entrance that says, "Happy Birthday Dear Jesus".

It is a peaceful interlude from the mayhem of Kolkata traffic outside and a stone's throw from one of the city's two synagogues, the Magen David, built by one of Calcutta's many former millionaires. It's a magnificent edifice that can almost be missed because of the shops leading up to its gates. Its unusual church-like spire, disfigured by overhead cables, did not seem to be considered a faux pas in those days. Restored by the Jewish community together with the Archaeological Survey of India, there is no longer a quorum to hold services in its serene, chandeliered interior. It remains a poignant reminder of a community that gave so much to the city.

Like the Magen David, most of the sacred places on this walk exist solely because of the efforts of diminishing local communities. The city authorities have done little to preserve a unique heritage, as a result of which tourists get to walk through some of the city's most squalid areas. This may be a novelty for foreign tourists who can return to their civic Shangri Las. But think how many more Indian tourists would be attracted to learn about the benefits of multiculturalism in an age when nationalism of a menacing fundamentalist kind is dominating our public discourse.

For more information about the Confluence of Cultures walk, contact Ritwick at 098306 04197