Calcutta Diaries: Part 1

The more I go away from this place the more illusionist I become and hence I can't risk moving away from my City.

The last time I went across Howrah Bridge (Rabindra Setu) was on 12th July, the previous month. As I heard from my father this bridge replaced an older pontoon bridge on the Hooghly river. It is the fourth busiest cantilever bridge of the world.

The nooks and corners of this bridge has become so much needed that I can't afford but open the windows of my car and look at it with awe. The wind of the Hooghly and the smell of the water creates an unknown sensation in my nose. I sometimes look above to see the length to which it extended. It every time seemed totally endless.

Maa says, 'Hooghly should be called The Thames of Calcutta.'
I wonder how weird it would have been. My Howrah Bridge has its own originality.

I was proceeding home from Howrah Station that day when we took the bridge. It was almost six and sun was about to set. The yellow waters reflecting a chrome shade was making me ask for more. 
Hundreds of people walked...some being mechanical whereas some admiring. 
I had noticed something different in North and South Calcutta people that very moment for the first time though it would be too rude to mention now. 
I won't simply make you lose the essence with which I am writing this.
Howrah Bridge is Calcutta's pride, it's glory. We have survived within it's soul.

I remember myself answering why I come back here again and again, is it only to admire the British architecture, or the majesty with which we have cultured it?

When I move across this bridge there is only one sentence which strikes me, 'O my love, you have paved way for thousand hearts to move at the same pace.'