Sunday 16th February - Canning Sardines

We are getting too comfortable in the Ivy House. Slouch down to breakfast in our nightclothes again, two orders of aloo paranthas today. As you might expect there is a plan. It has become traditional for us to take a local train outing during our Kolkata stays and this year is no exception. Train 34522 to Canning is our target, departing Sealdah Station at 10.24. Canning is considered the Gateway to the Sundarbans (see Radinja 2) but we are just going for the 44km train ride

First we need to get to Sealdah so we take the 200 yard walk to Gariahat Tram Depot. A number 25 tram is poised and an inquiry elicits the response that it will be leaving in five minutes. D bags the front left seat for a view ahead. Once under way we make good progress through the light Sunday morning traffic. It is easy to see how a bit of tweaking of the traffic lights would make these trams absolute winners but the Philistines who run the system here seem determined to run it into the ground. There is one other passenger on board by the time that we reach Park Circus, about two miles from Gariahat. The ticketing revolution does not appear to have reached Gariahat depot as we get old fashioned tickets for our trip.

We get off at Park Circus and look for a yellow taxi. Until recently trams ran from here, up past Sealdah to various destinations including the Howrah Bridge. Not any more. The cab is less fun and more expensive but needs must. The forecourt at Sealdah is still a building site, as the only rail project in history to take longer than the Edinburgh trams to complete grinds on. Today is R's chance to star. The Unreserved Ladies' counter has a much shorter queue so she gets to buy our tickets.

We linger with intent in the circulation area in front of the platforms, waiting for our train to appear on the board. When it does there is a vast surge of humanity towards the train. We go with the flow and keep moving along the platform until we reach a coach with vacant window seats. We get a seats opposite each other at a window as the train continues to fill. Four ladies in saris occupy the other four seats in our bay. The vendors start before the train has moved. Who makes impulse purchases of tablecloths?

By the time the train reaches Ballygunge Junction, 400 yards from our digs, it is approaching crush loading. Our seating bay for six contains nine with a further two standing. The vendors cannot get through. There are a couple of stations where people get off the train but it remains uncomfortably full until we get to Canning. 

The platform is narrow and has a row of food stalls down the middle. It is like a crowd trying to exit an old fashioned football ground while another crowd is trying to get in. An accident waiting to happen.  You won't starve on Canning station as long as you like bread omelette. The street outside the station is just as crowded but with autos and two wheelers thrown into the mix. Some genius has decided to surface the roads by dropping loads of rubble on them without applying a roller. Walking is hazardous to say the least.

We make it through to the main street which is properly surfaced and has decent pavements. Most businesses are open including the place making headstones and fancy marble plaques on the pavement. We reach the far end of this stretch of civilisation where there is utter bedlam. Local transport seems to consist of minibuses, autos and agricultural carts converted into some kind of cycle rickshaw. The minibuses carry passengers on the roof rack as well as inside. The street we turn into is just jammed solid with these various vehicles and nobody gives way to anybody.

We walk on into relative calm in our search for the boat jetty. Soon we realise that we are heading the wrong way but it looks as though we can follow a path along a bund between fields to cut the corner. This works quite well until we find ourselves walking through somebody's house to reach the road. The woman at the door seems neither surprised nor perturbed as we apologise. The boat jetty is not in the least exciting and we conclude that Canning is a bit of a dud. It makes last year's destination, Diamond Harbour, look like Monte Carlo.

On arrival in such places D's first job is to take a picture of the times of trains departing back to the city. We now refer to this and see that we should be able to make our escape if we do not loiter. The platform crowd has eased a little and we find window seats again. The train is quite busy but there is room for the vendors. Costume Jewellery, Tiger Balm, toffees, LED light bulbs and, best of all, a man selling Flashlight Earpicks. A tremendous bargain at only Rs20, we have stocked up ready for Christmas.

We descend from the train at Ballygunge and walk back to the Ivy House. The Karma Kettle cafe is open so we enjoy tea and buns. We follow this with a belated siesta before heading out for the evening. At the Irish House Pub we drink beer, communicate with sign language due to the decibel level and watch, amazed, as young Indian people eat nachos. We are clearly getting old. 

We have decided to eat at Aami Bangali, a place close to the Ivy House, that specialises in Bengali cuisine. Last year it was a fish restaurant. The food is good, especially the Dak Bungalow Mutton and the luchis. The Mishti Doi was the best yet.