To the City of Joy,
Aamee tumhake bhaalo bhashi! (I love you!)
It is said that the vibe of a place is determined by the vibe of the people that inhabit it. This is overwhelmingly true of Kolkata, the city that made me fall in love with itself slowly, and then all at once. As Bengal, and I say Bengal because both the parts of it across the border are facing terrible destruction and a humanitarian crisis, is ravaged by Amphan, there is only one thing I would like to say: Stay Strong.
Kolkata has always been the beacon of hope through terrible, terrible disasters like the great famine of Bengal. In this time of utter distress and chaos, it is again that we turn to the City of Joy for hope. The city must rise as it always has, and we must contribute in the rebuilding of our beautiful home. COVID-19 hit hard, but Amphan has hit harder, struck bigger, even weakening the magnanimous shield created by the forests in the Sundarbans.
The catastrophe that has befallen the state and its neighbouring Odisha has showed us that nature stops for nothing. Not for our materialistic pursuits, not with the shortage of medical facilities, not even the massive tide of infectious disease that has deemed the healthcare system overloaded. When disaster strikes, there is no stopping it, only prevention, but this too was curbed by the problems that crowded camps may bring along with them.
It is a double disaster and one unlike what we’ve seen before. The patients afflicted by the coronavirus need us, yes. But then, what about those crumbling under the aftermath of the cyclone? We need to help states battered by this to recover and rebuild. We need to get together and fight, fight to restore the city to its bliss, to its former status as a City of Joy.
As I sit and type this, my heart cries. Kolkata, a city that offers its heart and soul to all those who reside in and visit it, is drowning, literally.
I want to go and meet the people whose kind words and actions have touched my life, these including people from the guard at the Birla Planetarium to the baker at Flury’s, from the mithaiwala at the ever-famous shops lined with sondesh and roshogulla to the warm and friendly people directing me to a particular bookstore. Park street calls out. Eden gardens calls out.
And I sit here, rendered immobile. While I don’t always agree with the politics of CM Mamata Banerjee, my soul stumbles as I watch her teary eyed, lamenting the loss of livelihoods, first being ripped apart by the virus and now completely shredded by the cyclone.
But there is still much we can do sitting at home. Spread the word. This beautiful city needs all the help it can get to manage and reconstruct the landscape. Remind yourself of how the city and its people touched you in tiny yet wholesome ways. Remember that the city won’t thrive unless its people thrive. Donate. Advocate. Discuss.
It is true that the virus is a global disaster, but it is also as much true that the cyclone has displaced thousands of people and is as disruptive for them as the virus. The virus doesn’t discriminate, it is being said. But the cyclone disproportionately does. Not the natural disaster in itself. Nature doesn’t discriminate. Class does. Gender does. Creed does. Caste does. And sadly, but rapidly, even religion does.
We must, through the voice that many of us can use, urge the central government to pool in, urge people across the nation to help in every little way, urge the international aid community to stand up and look beyond the virus just a little, to look at the destruction caused in the wake of Amphan.
Our pillar of strength cannot fall. The city that distributes joy like water cannot fall. We must act, and we must act fast. Our city will rise, as it always has, and it will show the way to the resilient strength we all possess but sometimes choose to forget. The Sundarbans will flourish into its thriving ecosystem again. We will learn to live joyfully, again.
Yours forever and ever,
Deeksha Pandey