Kolkata calling!
If I were to tell you that I’d never been to Calcutta, you’d find that hard to believe? For someone who has long gravitated towards Bengali culture — from cuisine to kantha, from music to art and dance — it almost feels like a glaring omission having cruised all over the world? So my pit stop en route to a long-planned weekend at Ganga Kutir Raichak was too short but a start to a wonderful relationship with the city of culture arts and Machhar jhol!
On first impression, Calcutta presents itself as busy and overcrowded, much like several Indian metros. Traffic snarls, people everywhere, billboards marring magnificent views of historic monuments- a city that doesn’t quite pause. But the difference is palpable almost immediately, and it’s not aesthetic — it’s intellectual.
Airport representatives, drivers, even porters are articulate, expressive, and opinionated. Words like “iconic” and “teeming” roll off tongues easily. Conversations veer naturally towards politics, culture, literature. Friends have long joked that even Calcutta’s paanwallas read P.G. Wodehouse and quote Shakespeare — and while that may be romanticised, our driver certainly lived up to the stereotype. He offered a nuanced critique of “Didi” and the political malaise many feel has slowed the city’s momentum. Almost everyone I encountered discussed art, monuments, governance , their dislike for Mamta — and did so with conviction.
With barely half a day to spare, I raced through Howrah Bridge — which locals charmingly pronounce “Howrah breeze” — the National Library at Belvedere House, Victoria Memorial, and St Paul’s Cathedral. Each stop felt like a bookmark rather than a chapter, but that was inevitable.
It was my cappuccino with lemon tarts, plum cake and cucumber Sandwitches at Flurys, though, that moved me to tears. As a child, I would count the hours waiting for my father to return from Calcutta, his bags laden with Flurys’ lemon tarts, rolls and cookies. Sitting there decades later, the past folded neatly into the present. He is still indulgent, of course — but that was a different time, a different rhythm of life, and perhaps a gentler one.
Dinner at Sonargaon with my close friend Pooja Nankani was an elaborate silver thali indulgence - mishti doi, jaggery rosogulla et al! What with conversations about Mumbai's ‘happenings’ and delectable refills and seconds we managed to get back to our rooms only by 3 am.
Ganga Kutir: Where the River Holds Court
Raichak’s Ganga Kutir was a revelation — a fort hotel in deep red stone, perched on the widest stretch of the Ganges. Arriving from Taj Bengal, the river appeared almost glacial blue, shimmering under a starry moonlit winter night. It didn’t look like a river , here it was more expansive like a sea but very still calm and magnificent.
The celebrations were already in full swing when we arrived. Bangla music, dancers, and an evening tea on the river deck melted seamlessly into a musical gathering. Guests had flown in from across the world to celebrate this fort hotel reopening — drawn together by culture, conversation and intellectual repartee.
The highlight of the evening was a soulful performance by singer musicians Sourendro and Soumyojit, whose nostalgic melodies seemed to intertwine with the swish of the Ganges’ current. As I dressed in a sequin number to rush to the venue I heard their haunting melodies and I hastened my pace not wanting to miss any more of the performance! Their music has always carried a sense of reverence without rigidity, and here, by the river, it felt particularly apt.
Wrapped in bonfires against the Raichak chill, Shabana Azmi, striking in a pink turban, Jayshree Burman, and I moved from the music deck to a poolside gala dinner. The evening was presided over by Puneet Chhatwal, Chairman and Managing Director of the Indian Hotels Company, who has recently led the Taj brand to be declared the “strongest hotel brand in the world” — a fact acknowledged quietly, without fuss, much like the evening itself.
I was, as usual, underdressed for winter not wanting woolies to shroud my gown- But for once, the cold barely registered. The music conversations and cuisine was far too immersive for me to notice until i found myself sneezing and snivelling.
Art, Panel discussions, and the Bengal Pull
I have loved Bengal School artwork since childhood. I have collected them, lived with them and loved them almost all my life — poignant Nandalal Bose, Rabindranath Tagore (that’s a no brainier), dramatic Jogen Chowdhury, Paritosh Sen, Rabin Mondal, Suhas Roy, Ganesh Pyne, Suman Roy, — the list is long and deeply personal. I’m told I could even pass off as a “bong,” which amuses me no end. Perhaps that explains my enduring pull towards Bengal and Odisha’s art, music, movies, and indigenous art and craft.
Red and towering Taj Fort Raichak, envisioned by Harsh and Madhu Neotia, aided and abetted by their enterprising kids Paroma and Parthiv and Mallika and now taken forward by Taj’s Mohan Chandran and Intranil Ray to world class understated luxury, reflects Bengals cultural depth. The art is not declarative or shouting for attention but it subtly inhabits niches and corners, enhancing the atmosphere rather than announcing itself, surprising me at turns and corridors. I specially enjoyed the carriage of an ancient Victoria, a six foot sculpture in terra cotta of a fortress; a gold and Kutch horse in plumes and regalia and a stunning life size carved ornate elephant! The fort has warm sunny sit outs , secret gardens and lawns, grassy lanes and curvy corridors and even tall toweretts to make it like a fantasy world you can discover through a holiday alone!
The following morning brought a lively panel with Shabana Azmi and the formidable Aparna Sen, moderated by Kalyan Ray. Aparna’s 36 Chowringhee Lane still aches in my memory — a film that unsettles and makes you see some realities so starkly. The conversation was fun, feisty, thoughtful, and peppered with camaraderie— but each held their own .
Poetry Over a Drink, Not a Stage
Pre-dinner drinks unfolded into intimate conversations with Javed Akhtar, who — after much persuasion — recited his poetry. There was nothing performative about it. No microphone theatrics. Just words, delivered reluctantly perhaps, but with a room held completely still. It reminded me that poetry, when stripped of spectacle, has a way of provoking thought and memories .
The Ganga Aarti: Where Everything Fell Silent
But the most spectacular evening belonged to the Ganges herself. Ustad Nishat Khan, one of the world’s most respected sitar maestros, played by the riverbanks. His music carried until the auspicious mahurat of the Aarti, holding the audience in quiet attention. Alongside him, the presence of percussionist Pandit Bickram Ghosh added another layer to the weekend’s musical depth — rhythm meeting reflection.
The crescendo of the entire celebration was the Ganga Aarti — performed at the feet of the expansive, holy river revered by Hindus. Fifteen priests, multi-layered deepams, fragrant dhoop, chants woven with the sound of the river, conches heralding prayer and obeisance — it was an otherworldly experience, one that I cannot fully describe- one has to feel it to know the power and the impact of this divine experience.
Men in saffron sounded conches while paying obeisance to the river. Friends who had travelled from across the globe sat mesmerised. The river flowed, indifferent yet encompassing. In that moment, everything else — schedules, cities, noise — receded into nothingness. We lost ourselves in these magic moments!
Food as Memory, Not Display
One of the quieter triumphs of the weekend was the sit-down, pre-plated dining experience — a thoughtful, modern interpretation of Bengali cuisine. Artistically presented in painted porcelain the medley of courses had flavours and foods from different parts of Bengal alongside the chef’s signature dishes, presented with artistic elan.
Leaving Raichak, Carrying It Forward
I returned to Mumbai renewed, grateful, replaying moments in my head — and needing, quite frankly, a holiday from my holiday. A weekend that allows me to float in its memories , making the madding crowd of Mumbai fade into the background while I relive some of the high points of this holiday with relish! Alongside the goodies I brought back from Flurys and the Sandesh from Taj Raichak.
