I find it difficult not to draw parallels between Narayan’s Malgudi and Orissa’s Cuttack. I’d call it the sleepytown with one eye open. True, Cuttack has seen development, but it still retains the flavour of village life. Even though I was staying in perhaps the most modern part of cuttack, the old-gold atmosphere is evident. The people over there are generally simple and honest, unlike dilli, which is buzzing with con-men like myself. Even though its Bhubaneshwar that’s called the temple city, you’ll find that every sub-lane in cuttack has its own little temple. And mind, people are fanatically religious, no exceptions (Yet another resemblance to Malgudi). My mamaji’s old house, i.e. our ancestral house, has the perfect haunted house look, with authentic cobwebs and unused rooms. I find that quite appealing. I like to think there’s loads of stuff there in locked trunks that contain the key to my family history.
On the last day of my stay there, I went on a short photography tour. We (meaning my mamiji, my masi, my ma and my cousins) went to a few mandirs, and to my mom’s childhood school, where she excitedly pointed out the tree she used to love climbing, and the playground where she used to beat up boys while playing cricket. Pretty nostalgic, right? I was taking some pics of the river Kathjodi(its dried up in summers, but should it ever flood its banks entire cuttack will be washed clean.) when a peasant woman with a small child came up to me and asked if I would take a photo of her and her baby. I obliged, and she blushed on seeing her pic on my digicam screen. She then asked if I could give her the picture. I explained that I lived in Delhi, and there wasn’t time to get all the pictures developed. She said I could get the ‘reel’ developed nearby. I told her it was a digital camera and thus had no reel. She appeared puzzled at how a camera took pictures without a reel.
The thing is, cuttack being right next to bhubaneshwar, all the attention of development has gone to the capital, and cuttack has been largely ignored. The people don’t complain. When they want to buy expensive or exclusive stuff, they go to bhubaneshwar. So cuttack remains cuttack, inching towards the future, leaving a trail of nostalgia. For my own selfish motives, I hope it stays this way. Time stops at Cuttack, I’d love to say.
