Heritage on pedals by Adnan Hamid

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new lands but in having new eyes!” – Marcel Proust

I had set the alarm for a groggy 5 am and woke up after exactly nine shrill rings  not just from the timepiece but the wife as well. I have never recalled getting up this early except for catching an early morning flight and was almost tempted to hit the pillow again.

Exactly then, something tugged at my heart. Cycling: my first love. Kolkata’s heritage: my enduring love. Combination of the two: I was wide awake.

Riding furiously through sleepy and near deserted roads, I was half wondering whether this was the city I knew for 30 long years. I was soon to find out. Reaching the front gates of the Victoria Memorial just as the first rays of sunlight shone on Kolkata’s most famous landmark, I was introduced to the feisty Gautam Shroff, our ‘guide’ for the morning, inspecting his Firefoxes. It seemed quite amusing that we would spot heritage riding on these new-age technological marvels!

With his first command of “Mount your horses, folks”, we set out to on our real voyage of discovery, cycling through the calm roads with the fresh breeze soothing our senses and a steady stream of fascinating heritage-related anecdotes invigorating our minds.

What would you call someone who has driven through BBD Bag all his life and was only partly aware of the treasure trove that is alive in its womb? What would you call someone who would easily pinpoint the direction of the GPO to a harried passerby but did not know of the ‘black hole’ episode? What would you call someone who only knew of the CBD as a concrete jungle but did not know that one of the quietest corners of the city lies in its very heart? What would you call someone who is just focused on the traffic lights turning green…. Well you get the drift.

What Gautam did was actually transport us back in time as we heard the Brits making merry over glasses of wine served by especially ‘imported’ British barmaids at the Great Grand Hotel, in what was perhaps India’s first pub. We could hear the nonstop chatter of traders and merchants from all over the world as they exchanged currencies and friendly banter at the Old Mint with the massive old iron gates made of ship ballast clanging shut at the end of each day.

We could feel the emotions of the letters of lovers, wives, friends and relatives passing through the Dead Man’s Post Office, back to the senders only to announce that their recipients could not survive the horrible bout of malaria. We could hear the babies screaming for their mothers working in the adjoining buildings and their anxious baby-sitters pacifying them in perhaps India’s first crèche at the visually-astounding Vansittart Row.

We could feel the ‘writers’ of the Writers Building unwinding lounging by the Lal Dighi and feeling the soothing breeze flowing from the adjacent Ganges. We could hear the horses thundering up and down the ramps at the Royal Insurance Building, perhaps India’s only high-rise with a ramp for horses. We could experience the anguish of Peter Pan’s wife as she painstakingly poured her heart out on his epitaph.

Honk, honk, honk!

The reverie broke, the reality dawned.

As I exchanged goodbyes and headed home, I vowed twice over: One, cherish the amazing amount of heritage coexisting in our city and two, take to cycling more often!

The writer was a part of Gautam Shroff’s “Bicycling Calcutta” walk on 4 May 2013 and came back thoroughly rejuvenated!