Once I’d “settled into” my guest room, it was time to eat. Remember the part of the dream where I would smoke and drink ? It also included buying packaged food and heating/cooking it at home. As evening grew into night, this part bit the dust.
I’d been acquainted with a restaurant about a mile away from where I lived. Around 8:30pm in the evening, I headed out, locking up the room carefully. The cooperative was deserted by this time, giving me the eerie feeling of being literally in a ghost town. The road leading to the restaurant (really the ghat, but I learnt that later) was also semi-deserted and many shops were shutting down. Coming from a city that doesn’t sleep at least till midnight, this was both a surprise and a worry.
Now let me get some things about Tehatta restaurants – and “mofussil” restaurants in general – out of the way. One, they call themselves hotels. Places with the critical component of real hotels – staying rooms – call themselves lodges and guest houses. The twain generally do not meet (I can recall only one example of a hotel providing living quarters – the one at Pantha Tirtha in Krishnanagar).
Secondly, they serve a set meal, with additions based on your choices. Think of it as a Zinger Meal, in which you can throw in additional items with a markup each time. Here, however, the basic meal consisted of daal (with the consistency of swamp water), spicy veg curry and an assortment of fries (potato fries, kochu fries, corolla fries, etc etc.). You could even get some chutnee on occasion. The additions included fish, eggs, chicken (on occasion) and double helpings of the non-veg parts. Base price Rs. 45. With Egg – Rs 55, With Fish – Rs. 60, with chicken Rs. 70. With mutton (rarely) Rs. 100.
In those early days I didn’t have the confidence of dealing with spicy non-veg dishes, and stuck to the basic veg menu. Out of pity perhaps, I was given some additional fries every time. And for some reason (hopefully not pity), they always referred to me as “Sir”. This, as you’d have guessed, was also not among the Dickensian touches I’d have liked to my fantasy.
The remainder of the day – or night – passed uneventfully. Getting up the next day, I made a shopping list of things I’d need. It was winter, and one of the first things I’d need would be a heater. Also, the bucket. Extension cords, some snacks and real estate renting research. For all this, I’d need money.
One good thing about Tehatta was the large amount of financial institutions it had. There was the State Bank, Allahabad Bank, Canara Bank and United Bank of India. Then there were the ATMs – three of SBI, one of the other banks (except UBI). Now my salary from BESC had been credited to Uco Bank, so it really didn’t matter which ATM I used. After a heart-stopping moment when the Diebold (yep, that’s the name) machine simply stopped making any noise while coughing up my money, I had the cash to get the necessities.
I got hold all the things, except the bucket. While shopping for key rings (an added item), I was helpfully told about the possibility of a house being available for rent. After lunch, the shopkeeper and I set off to see the place that would eventually become my “camp” for most of my time in Tehatta. That done, I went back, rested, then set out and “booked” the bucket on my way to the hotel. On the way back, I picked up my first steel bucket and clanged it back to the guest house. I fancied myself a lone silhouette on a dark road, walking home wearily, bucket in hand. It’d have been unconventional, no ?
The next day, I went to the college again. The OIC had turned up, as had the half a dozen teachers who had joined before me. Two were quite senior, the others roundabout my age, and with as much experience as me. The staff room, even with the teachers in it, was rather empty. I’d come from a staff room where taking any chair from its place elicited loud complaints from the person who sat there, and his/her entire clique. Here, you could simply sit in any chair and not be disturbed at all. Even better, the chairs were the padded swivelling type that are usually reserved for dignitaries and corporate officials.
Beyond submitting my joining papers, I had little else to do, so I decided to head back to Kolkata as soon as the situation allowed. For one, I was running out of clean clothes. For another, I was already yearning for the comfort of my bed, the convenience of having things handed to you instead of going out and buying them, and above all, the familiarity of the city. I wanted more adventure, just not now.
The details of the journey will be covered in a piece dedicated to the journeys. For now, let me just add that I submitted my salary papers on the way at Krishnanagar and then took the train home. My first tryst with Tehatta was over.
Over the next couple of weeks, I got to know the students better, met my HOD and chatted over a variety of things, and finally, finalized the house. Amidst it all, I got a call from my ex-girlfriend informing me that the MPhil form-fillup deadline was approaching, and I should move fast. You’d think I’d rush to complete the formalities, when actually, I’d decided that MPhil could wait. I probably wouldn’t be able to complete my MPhil staying in Tehatta. And even if I did, I wouldn’t do a good job.
Two hours of consultation with my parents later, it was time for a mea culpa on my part. I called the official who dealt with these things, learnt that the deadline was nearly over, and then called my caretaker. He politely told me that he would be up, and even if he wasn’t, I wouldn’t have any problems leaving.
Hectic packing and little sleep later, I was off at seven to a place called Howlia More. Before you point it you, I’d tell you that I’ve already exhausted the wordplay associated with the name. I could say, for instance, that the wind was howling as I headed into Howlia on the morning of 15th December 2015. I could also say that my soul was howling at the thought of navigating my way back from Tehatta to Kolkata for only the second time, and in a way that would allow me to reach before the university closed for the day.
Fancy language and self-doubt in tow, I found a bus and headed towards Krishnanagar. With the wind really howling now (the conductor insisted on keeping at least one window open), we whizzed past the countryside and reached Krishnanagar. Turns out, there was a Sealdah local due in just a while, and even more fortunately, the crowd wasn’t exactly WWE grade. I reached Kolkata around 1, and three hours of cross-Kolkata rushing about later, had submitted the form.
Yet this wasn’t the last screw up of the year. On the last day – 21st of December – we had the annual sports day. Given that I had just joined and had no role, all I had to do was turn up for the day and watch. Sadly, due to a particularly bad train journey, my feet refused to cooperate. The result was more tense moments, followed by a whole week in bed with Amazon providing me the books I needed to pass the MPhil coursework exam. Staying under blankets for a whole week while studying and sipping unhealthy amounts of coffee is a good thing. In excess quantity really.
I won’t go into the other anxieties related to getting my salary started, getting through coursework exams with the college session in full flow and the other issues that plagued my early months. After all, I’ve titled this piece “Meanings” and not “Anxieties of a New Job”. Instead, I’d go into the remaining one year of Tehatta with a more “general” approach than a narrative one, hoping – as ever – that I piss off as few people as possible.