India 2013: Blog 5 Kolkata.
Kolkata, Kolkata Kolkata, the chaos and the clutter.
The miss-match of Colonial and the gutter.
Sprawling freely on the street, so many faces to meet.
Finding a rhythm and a beat to all the beep beep and the bizarre.
The sing-song and the Sitar.
Kolkata, Kolkata, Kolkata.
Andy Long.
The Blind Singer.
As we were standing in our room she said to me
“Can you hear that singing?”
“It’s the blind man- he walks up the street in the evening with a serene lady by his side”
His high pitched singing, throaty, full of sadness permeated through the constant murmur of Kolkata
As they rushed down the stairs through the hotel down to the dark corridor leading to the street, then stopped. The darkness of the corridor framed the light of the street making it look like a cinema screen, out of the din of the city his voice rang out again, as he came into view his steady pace against the rush of the street around them, his dusty voice rang out, singing out to nothing in his darkness.
As they watched him slowly pass they felt goose bumps, the walking creating a rhythm against the piercing song, the honking and clanking now distant. As they passed the centre of the frame his voice rang out again, a melancholic song, his voice high and clear. The aide to the man turned slowly to the two standing in the dark corridor, she smiled at them over her shoulder, a poetic lingering on the scene, as she turned back under her veil the atmosphere clung on.
As the air blew back into the scene, warm and exotic, the street noises returned, they turned back to each other and smiled.
Abi Cooper
16/2/2013
Kolkata, India
Paul Sargent.
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