First Person Account: Sensing The Unsettling Calm On A Walk from Howrah Bridge to Nabanna
First Person Account: Sensing The Unsettling Calm On A Walk from Howrah Bridge to Nabanna
The barricades that were there on Tuesday, blocking all traffic on the iconic Howrah Bridge, were gone. It was just another Sunday, with relatively less traffic on this 81-year-old bridge.

It’s been 24 days since the rape and murder of a 31-year-old trainee doctor in Kolkata’s RG Kar Hospital shook the conscience of India. It has also been six days since the Nabanna Abhiyan — a march of students that shifted the demand from justice for the murdered doctor to the resignation of West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee — which saw confrontation with scores of students, as well as police personnel, sustained injuries. Film personalities like Aparna Sen and Swastika Mukherjee have been voicing anger, and taking to the streets. Last Tuesday, in spite of extremely tight security, some protestors managed to reach the close proximity of Nabanna — the seat of power in West Bengal. So I thought, it would be prudent to take a walk from Howrah Bridge to Nabanna, on a Sunday and witness in slo-mo what has changed since Tuesday.

First thing’s first, the barricades that were there on Tuesday, blocking all traffic on the iconic Howrah Bridge, were gone. It was just another Sunday, with relatively less traffic on this 81-year-old bridge. As I started the little five-kilometre walk, the first thing I encountered was the chaos outside Howrah Station. I paused near a temporary lassi shop. On a weekday, he wouldn’t have the luxury to pause during noon. But Sunday was more relaxed. I asked him his views on the rape and murder and suddenly, his facial expressions changed. There was a pause. His jaws tightened. “Bohut hi zyada galat hua (What happened was so wrong),” he muttered. The man selling Kolkata’s famous jhalmuri on the go settled next to him to join in, “I have three sisters at home in Bihar. Khun khaulta hai (My blood boils).” But life goes on and so does Kolkata. When I asked permission to photograph them, both refused even to be named, fearing “lafda”.

There are no tell-tale signs of extra security precautions apart from the usual traffic barricades with Kolkata’s iconic yellow taxis making a beeline. Once I crossed Howrah station and Railway Museum, I was greeted with small but regular posters of Nabanna Abhiyan — a march to Bengal’s seat of power that stalled Bengal’s capital last Tuesday. Soon I was greeted by walls with a lengthy collage advertising each and every government policy of Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee, with her smiling face.

As I moved towards Ramkrishnapur Ghat, walking along the scenic Hoogly riverfront, the skyline was harbouring a late monsoon cloud. The sky wasn’t happy just as the mood of an average Kolkata resident — even in the run-up to Durga Puja — is gloomy.

I couldn’t spot any remarkable security arrangement on Howrah Railway Road or Foreshore Road that leads to Shibpur burning ghat. But intermittently, TMC billboards and placards could very well be spotted. Jagat Banerjee Ghat Road was its same boring self. But the moment I reached Naora in Shibpur, I started sensing something was different. Each and every circle and island that finally led to Nabanna was manned by West Bengal Police. Even on a Sunday, I could spot alert cops — some posted strategically and some roaming on cars taking nothing to chance.

The last island before Nabanna falls under two flyovers and is strategically nuanced as many small alleys come and join there. So from a law and order perspective, it is a headache to keep protestors away. But I noticed the alacrity of the cops was unmissable.

Suddenly, it started to rain, when I took shelter in a Haringhata Store — a retail unit of West Bengal Livestock Development Corporation — just next to Nabanna, I rather watched with surprise that no police personnel left their spot.

The police have been faced with a very unusual situation where citizen ire is directed towards them as the rapist was a civic volunteer, but they too seem to be fed up with the protests after Debasish Chakraborty — a police sergeant was struck by a stone, endangering his vision in one eye.

As I booked my Uber and made my way back, my WhatsApp continued to ping about scheduled protests this week. Kolkata hasn’t been this angry for this long in a long time. While the lassi and jhalmuri seller are scared of ‘lafda’ being that vocal, most educated residents of the city are not, which makes the administration worry.

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