Everyone's A Back-Seat Deriver
With Diwali (the Hindu festival) and Id (the Muslim celebration after the fasting period of Ramadan) following close on each other's heels, there is a festive atmosphere across the city of Calcutta. This evening I spent a fair amount of time in the central business district and long after the sun had set, we tried negotiating the streets in the vicinity of the Oberoi Grand Hotel and the New Market (properly known as the Sir Stuart Hogg Market).
But the dual festivities across two different faiths mean that the footpaths of the city are simply not wide enough to contain the thousands of gleeful shoppers. There is no pushing, no shoving, no jostling; Calcutta is far too civilised a metropolis for such churlish behaviour. This is a street party like no other. No one is in a hurry. No one needs to be.
Down one street, our progress is impeded by the formidable phalanx of (in no particular order) a rickshaw, a motorbike and a taxi whose driver seems hell-bent on driving with more verve than good judgement. Do we have a problem? No, this is Calcutta, and help is always at hand. Yes, even in a traffic jam.
Suddenly, three people materialise from the throng. One directs the rickshaw puller deftly away from the coagulation of traffic. Another, addressing the taxi driver not as a dolt but as his elder brother, sends him on his way through a gap not much wider than his vehicle itself. The third good citizen, much in the manner of the intrepid mariner, Ferdinand Magellan, charts a course for the motorcyclist, with a laugh rather than an oath. And we are now on our way again, through a street where the hubbub is one of celebration.
The parting of the Red Sea could not have been achieved with more aplomb.
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