SK & I checked in at the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport at Bombay where we bumped into a colleague of mine, Debargha, also headed to Calcutta by the same flight. He gave us some insight into the fervour of ‘Pujo’ (as Bengalis call it) and said that ‘pandal hopping’ formed a major porting of the festive revelry. When asked how many pandals did he see on an average, he stunned us by casually mentioning at least 50-60 pandals. Wow…both SK and I looked at each other…we haven’t visited that many Ganesh mandals in our lifetime.

We boarded the flight and as the preparation for take off began, SK started to feel a sense of claustrophobia resulting from an acute fear of flying. She started perspiring profusely, heart palpitating, palms sweaty and fingers cold. Shutting her eyes she tried to push the fear in the abyss of her mind hoping that the 2.5hour ordeal would end soon.

Meanwhile I was enjoying every minute of it. Peeping out of the window, I saw the plane rising high till the famous landmark of Bombay, our ’slums’ were just a speck of blue & black tarpaulin. Bombay looks every bit the commercial capital of the nation even from top. Tall skyscrapers dotting the coastline, the arabian Sea a wide expanse giving the island city a mjestic feel. Up and away we flew above the clouds and through them…the clouds looking like balls of cotton disintegrating and changing every moment. The sky itself was a hue of varying shades of blue from light to azzure covered with the yellow golden rays from the sun. It seemed that one could find heaven if only one looked closely amidst the clouds. 

Slowly the plane started its downward descent and the aerial view of West Bengal was breath taking. Paddy fields alternating between dark and light green lay in horizontal and vertical patterns with the irrigation canals running through them. It looked as though someone had deliberately placed these grassy mats this way. As we crossed water bodies, gushing rivers and lush fields, I spotted the yellow ambassador taxis (or ‘ambys’ as they are popularly known).

Calcutta has a quaint feel to it even from up above. Unlike Bombay, you don’t see skyscrapers but individual houses in various shades of white, blue, pink yellow. Temples in saffron, open fields, small ponds as against the gigantic Arabian Sea. Felt like the city had fought commercialisation in a bid to retain its sanity.

Down and down we went, till we reached the Netaji Subash Chandra Bose International Airport at Dumdum. Ant R was waiting for us outside. We stepped out of the airport on to the ‘city of joy’. Everything felt just right. I knew this trip would be cherishable for me for more reasons than one.