I just went see to the Marble Palace here in Kolkata. It is a home that belongs to a wealthy family here in town and has been in their family since the 1830s. Apparently they still live there in a part of the house. The tour guide (who didn’t really speak any English) told me that there are 22 members of the family still there. It’s a huge house, so they could all live there, with room to spare… There are actually a couple of original Rubens paintings there and a Sir Joshua Reynolds original as well. They were beautiful, as was the original Italian marble flooring, the Belgian glass chandeliers and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. There were also a lot of bronze statues and a zoo, of sorts, on the grounds. There were a lot of birds and some other random ground animals in cages lining the property and bird cages lining the courtyard of the house. Many of the birds were exotic (S. American, or Australian). It was an interesting setup. A lot of the sculptures were done in sets. There were, for example, sculptures done of the 4 seasons, or Napoleon and Wellington would be placed on opposite sides of a room. There was some beautiful carved alabaster work, and I really enjoyed looking at everything. Outside of the building, I saw a pair of statues for comedy and tragedy. The tragedy lady looked sad, holding her tragedy mask. The comedy one, however, was holding a happy mask slightly away from her face, but interestingly enough, still looked a bit sad. I found that rather arresting. I looked at those two for a while.
Apparently, you’re supposed to come to the Marble Palace with written permission from the tourism board of India. Not sure where you’re supposed to procure that permission, but you should have it, as it happens. …of course, if you don’t have it, you are just supposed to bribe the guys at the door. When I got there, I was first met by a guy at the gate who tried to stop me. He said something about paying him and then paying a tour guide at the door. I wasn’t super keen on that. I argued , asking why I had to pay twice. He relented, (maybe thinking he could just get a cut from them?) and I went in, promising not to take pictures. I wandered the grounds for a while, stared at the comedy and tragedy, and then went to the door. They took my name and address (?) and let me in with a tour guide saying I could pay on the way out. At the end of the tour, I gave the tour guide some money. He started complaining, saying he had to split it with 10 guys and I should give him more money. I said thank you, but no and walked out, thanking the official looking guys at the door and continuing without once looking back. At the gate the guy asked if I paid and I said yeah and kept walking. I felt a little guilty and worried that they’d follow me, but no one did. So that was that. But it’s a little stressful in India, where most people see foreigners as walking cash machines.
Token pic of Wall Carvings (outside, of course) at Birla Mandir
Yesterday, I had planned to go to the Birla Mandir and then head down to Newmarket area to get dinner at Nizam’s Restaurant. This is a restaurant that was my dad’s favorite when he lived here in Kolkata during his college days (late 1960s). I had really loved going there when I lived here myself in the late 1990s. I remembered loving their chicken kebabs in particular. I’d told my sister about the place and she and her friend Alec had said they had good rolls and even went here with my dad and mom when they were in town over Christmas. But it was a couple of miles away from the Mandir. I thought about taking a cab, but then a bus came by and I saw that it was going to somewhere near where I needed to be. I hopped on.
Public transport in NE India
Bus rides in India are usually a bit of an adventure. Really, all public transport is. It’s always way, way way too full. I mean they take the maximum capacity and then try to triple or quadruple the occupancy. People literally hang off the sides and back of the vehicles. People cram in like sardines, and everyone is sweating and stinking and pressed up against one another. Being groped is, while not a certainty, quite likely, but it’s not always intentional! On this ride, for example, two girls got on about halfway to my destination. They were school-aged, maybe high school or college. They got on after the bus was already quite full. I’d been standing in the front area, all the seats being full. I was holding to the bar by the ceiling, as was everyone – if you don’t hold on, you fall down – it’s very stop-and-go! They came and stood right next to/in front of me, really there was nowhere else to stand, they were crammed there. Several of the bumps slammed their faces (which were right on eye-level with my chest) directly into my breasts. Oops. I’m a bit too tall for India. I could tell they were talking and awkwardly laughing a bit about it after the one girl had a face-plant for the second time. I kind of tried to move, mumbling an apology, but really, there’s not really anywhere else to move, and if I turn around, I’m doing the same thing to someone else, so…. It was one of the more comical awkward India moments I’ve had lately. I just gave the girl a slightly laughing apologetic look, because, what else can you do?
One problem with standing (rather than sitting) on the bus is that you can’t actually see out of any of the windows. And the guy who stands at the door of the bus (hangs out the door, to be precise) yelling out the destinations of the bus, doesn’t usually say where the bus is – or when/if he does, I can’t really distinguish it from the rest of the places he’s saying. So I was kind of wondering how I’d tell when I got where I needed to go. There isn’t even room to bend over to look out the window periodically. I asked one of the short girls where they had gotten on, and one guy who had heard me get my ticket when I got on said not to worry cause he was getting off when I was. I relaxed (as much as one can when standing on a moving, jerking bus) until I heard Newmarket a couple of times. I asked if that’s where we were. The guy told me yes, and I decided to get off at the next stop.
Nizam’s Menu
Luckily, when I got off, I found I was less than half a block away from Nizam’s! Yay! And the food was just as great as I remembered! I had a chicken kebab. Their special is a chicken kathi kebab. For those of you not too familiar, it tastes similar to tandoori chicken, but like it’s premarinated in more awesomeness and sautéed at the end in delicious onions and chilis. If you order a roll, they basically put the chicken with the onions and chilis in a piece of freshly cooked, buttery naan. Mmmm…
After that delicious meal, I wandered over to the Fairlawn a couple of blocks away. I walked in and – lo, and behold! – my friend Neel was sitting in his usual spot! I had hoped I would run into him! He caught sight of me right away and I joined him. It was perfect because he had just arrived and was also on his own that evening. We hung out and talked for a couple of hours. We actually had a bunch to catch up on – I hadn’t seen him since our first meeting before my trip to the Northeast. My initially shitty Birla Mandir day turned into an awesome evening at Nizam’s and the Fairlawn with Neel. This time we exchanged info, deciding it was indeed fortuitous that we met and a sign we should be friends. We’ll hang out again before I leave Kolkata.