02/07/2026
I was born in Kolkata but never lived there, to me it was just visiting grand parents during summer vacation.. But I moved to Kolkata in 2011 and lived there for 8 years..It took me years to understand the rhythm of this city, but once I did, I fell hopelessly in love. What looks like chaos to an outsider is actually a beautiful, living symphony. It’s a place where the senses are alive with the rich aroma of street-side chai brewing in clay bhar, the sizzle of Mughlai parathas, and the sweet promise of mishti doi. The food here isn’t just sustenance; it’s a love language passed down through generations.
Kolkata doesn’t hide its imperfections; it wears them like poetry. You see it in the quiet mornings, where the city wakes up not to cold, mechanical routines, but to the warmth of human connection. I love how a simple morning walk at Rabindra Sarobar or Maidan is never just about exercise, it is a cherished ritual of friends catching up, sharing laughs, and debating politics or art before the day even begins.
And then, there is Durga Puja. To the rest of the world, it might look like a grand festival. But to me, it is pure inspiration. It is the beating heart of Bengal. For those few days, the entire city transforms into an open-air art gallery, fueled by imagination, devotion, and an undeniable collective soul. It taught me that art isn’t confined to museums; it belongs to the streets, and it belongs to the people.
It taught me that there is beauty in the noise, warmth in the old alleyways, and that sometimes, the most crowded places are where you find the deepest sense of belonging.
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