A Stroll Through the Streets of Kolkata

One afternoon when I was walking back from the ATM I was fortunate enough to stumble upon a Baskin Robins.  I could not believe my eyes.  Baskin Robins in Kolkata? Where's Dunkin Donuts?  And after my momentary shock I decided to treat myself to an ice cream.  I had a rather tough morning with Dilip and I had been relatively good since being here.  I have been living on a diet of almost entirely Indian or at least eastern food, mixing up my paneer and chicken masala with some stir fried vegetables. And rice ... so much rice.   But there is plenty of opportunity for fruits, I choke down a banana every morning at breakfast.  Also the oranges here are quite tasty.  I could have on of those for breakfast every day, but the bananas are free.  My point is, I deserved a modest scoop of ice cream.

As I turn towards the the shop I am halted by a dog lying on the corner.  Now I must say that I am not surprised to see this street dog, their presence is overwhelming.  In fact there seemed to be a few packs that did a two week run of an all canine version of West Side Story that served as a very punctual 4:30 am alarm when I was jet lagged.  They are everywhere and they sleep everywhere.  Skinny and mangy things covered in scars from their fights.  The thing that caught my attention with this dog was it's placement.  Most dogs choose to sleep on the smaller less crowded streets or near somewhat off to the side on the more crowded sidewalks.  This one however was right in the middle of the sidewalk.  As I got closer I was able to see that this old guy had a pretty bad gash from a recent brawl, he was desperately skinny and so mangy that he hardly had any fur.  I my heart went out to the guy, but I was on a mission for ice cream.

  When I approached the counter I was afraid that I was going to be confronted with 31 variations of curry ice cream.  That is not entirely unrealistic, you can't get a burger at McDonald's here, but don't worry there's a spicy paneer wrap. Much to my relief however, there was mostly very American flavors.  Fudge ripple, coffee, German chocolate, cookie dough, and Mississippi mud were just a few of the options.  I opted for Mississippi mud and gold medal ribbon.  As the man was scooping the ice cream, I looked back at the dog on the street corner.  What a strange place for him to rest, there was so much foot traffic.

 

I took my ice cream and thanked the man.  As I trotted back towards the corner, I looked at the dog and realized it was dead.  Well, that explains that.  I stood there staring at the dead dog with chocolate, caramel and vanilla flavors swirling and melting over my tongue I and proceeded have an internal battle with myself.  I was feeling bad about the dog, but I had been working and deserved a treat.  Nope, I'm sorry you died on a corner Mr. Dog but I was going to enjoy this ice cream and no one was taking that away from me.  I turned on my heels and continued on my way.

I was enjoying every little spoonful of rich sweet flavor and all the action as people were pedaling their goods on the street.  People selling beautiful multicolored shawls and really stupid posters that make no sense and tee shirts with John Cena on them.  I looked down and see a little street girl of about four covered in dirt being roughly led by her older brother while she is sucking a slice of lemon.  She looks at me and I smile at her.  She smiles back and then is crest fallen as she looks at my ice cream and then at her lemon. And before I even have a moment to register what happened she's gone again.

 

My ice cream is beginning to lose its flavor as I turn the corner to Sudder street.  I shuffle along in the road and see a fat dead crow ahead with a car speeding toward me not much beyond it.  I avert my eyes as I realize the car is going to run over the bird's carcass.  A wise choice, but my lack of sight does not make me deaf to the loud crunch it's body makes under the weight of the car.  And just as I am recovering from this most recent atrocity I am hit in the face with a fresh breeze from the stagnant open urinal on the street a head of me.

Game over.

 Well played Kolkata, well played.