Reminiscence

Good Ol’ days – They never return. You will have nostalgia when you have put in a lot of years to your life or you have been doing some sincere, serious drinking. The sprit either lifts or slumps and the eyes get misty. Those good ol’ days will never return. You know that but you cannot help, but get nostalgic.

Sometimes I think of Calcutta. I shall continue to call Calcutta, Calcutta. . . except when I speak Bengali.

Those were the days of the boxwalla Companies. British influence was waning. But still there was the ITC, The ICI, The Dunlop, The Metal Box. We use to follow ardently Minoo Masani, Nani Palkhiwala and Piloo Mody for their ability to dig at our Govt. We use to listen to Kishore Bhimani’s ball by ball commentaries.

We dreamt of rising above the squalor and the filth. We had good times even when our wallets were near empty. We used to visit the Racket Club and hang around looking at those guys playing squash. We used to creep in the CC& FC Ground to watch that alien game called Rugby and Cycle Polo. The Golf Club and the Tennis Club where the elite used to hang around. The Swimming Club and the Tolly Club et all. Membership was near impossible until you were well connected. That was the best class distinction that I ever saw.

Then there was the Anglo India community and their DI and Rangers Club

Then we had brown sahibs in the Bengal and Calcutta Club.

Saturday nights brought Louis Banks, Pam Crain, Usha Iyer, Braz Gonsalves at the Trincas and The Blue Fox. There was of course the Free School Street with the lungiwalla pimps and Isaiah's Bar

Sundays at Firpos for the jam sessions where those cute cocktail sausages were served complimentary with the Beer. Shit, now they don’t even serve peanuts.

Very soon Christmas would hang over our head and Park Street became a different joint altogether. Those were the days of Pat Boone, Engelbert, Beatles, Paul Anka, Jim Reeves and Tom Jones. We swayed and hummed along.

Watching night shows at the Globe, the Elite, The Minerva, The Lighthouse and at the Tiger after having a couple of drinks at Cathy’s and those beef rolls and kathi kebabs at the Nizam, were a real treat.

Things have changed now. Those years of commie rules have eradicated all the small few pleasures of Calcutta. The body is there but the spirit is gone. How I wish I could get my hands on Hugo Well’s Time Machine