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Mallik Ghat Flower Bazaar, Kolkata Pic Courtesy : http://www.pikturenama.com |
Why are you here? What
do you do, again?
I am a documentary film
maker.
Docu.., what ?
Docu-men-tary. I make
films.
Like Karan Johar?
A little different. But
yes, kind of the same thing.
But we never see you on
TV or theater? Why are you here?
I want to make a docu...umm..film..on
the flower market.
Did you see Chennai
Express? Shahrukh Bhai is amazing! Do you know him?
......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
He looked back to get his answer
but turned back midway. That was an abrupt end to the curiosity and questions
of my rickshaw driver. I am sure he was convinced that a man dressed like me,
who has never even been on TV, despite being a filmmaker, cannot possibly know
the King of Bollywood. I am confident I saw a smirk on his face when he dropped
me at Asia's largest wholesale flower market.
Mallik Ghat Flower Bazaar,
Kolkata.
To call something chaotic in Kolkata would be
redundant. But it still has a strange
serenity in it. I have struggled to find such harmonized disorder in the
Mumbais and Delhis of the world. "Order" is an incomplete and mortal story. The entropy of the Universe
would catch up with it eventually. "Disorder", on the other hand, is self
sustaining and ever propagating. It is the closest "absolute" entity
that Nature offers. It engulfs stillness of every moment on its way of becoming
the sole force of the Universe. I hunt for stories in such pandemonium. People
who become accustomed to finding peace in chaos present the most dogged and
honest face of humanity.
It is in this quest that I travel
and explore stories in the busiest, noisiest and, seemingly, unlikeliest of the
places.
And so, instead of making a documentary
about the Howrah Bridge, I came here.
One understands the true
difference between "reachable" and "approachable" in India,
only while trying to create something. Thanks to the over advertised advancement that we have made as a nation, we can
reach to almost every corner of the country. But try making a neighborhood
within your approach to accomplish something, and it's a different story
altogether. So, first order of business was to find my "handler".
But I was awestruck by Mallik
Bazaar. The beauty in this dingy Bazaar was astounding. It was not the obvious
kind of beauty that one notices instantly but the one that grows on you and stays
forever. It was not the high school crush who tickles sensations for a bit, but
the peace of a woman one desires to wake upto for life. The roads were laden
with flowers of every kind. The canvas of Mallik Bazaar was painted in bright
orange by tens of thousands of Marigolds . Roses, Jasmines and Lilies appeared
sporadically like colorful birds in the morning sky. I began to immerse myself
in the tranquility of colors amidst the haphazardness.
Suddenly, a tempo whizzed past me, hurling abuses at me in
chaste Bengali, while I stood frozen in the middle of the road. I realized that
I was in the thick of the action and the director in me was switched on with
that jolt. I started looking for Pushpak, a young Bollywood aspirant, and my
handler, who was to meet me in the Bazaar Eventually, he found me and started
to show me around while I managed my handheld and the stories started
unfolding.
We met Ikhlaq, who claimed to make sales of over ₹10000
in a day but complained about the lack of hygiene in the area. He seemed
worried that he would catch Malaria and wanted to switch businesses. But
another businessman, known by the moniker "Marwari", seemed hopeful. He was happy with the way the
Bazaar operated and wanted to have a retail shop in the main city as well. A
few inquired about the new trend of people ordering flowers on
"computer" and rued losing business to the fake educated types!
After about an hour of recording
and interviews we proceeded towards the largest shop of the Bazaar, owned by a
certain Seth. He had already been
notified by Pushpak and was expecting us. He greeted us with refreshing sharbat with rose petals in it. Seth had been in the business for over
35 years and claimed to be one of the biggest business owners of the city.
He talked at length about
Horticulture. "Not every bud blossoms into a flower. One must have the eye to spot which [one] would, and that simple trick differentiates
me form the rest of them", he bragged. When I asked him how he managed
the supply chain of a fresh product I saw his eyes sparkle. He must be proud of
his business skills, I thought. He proudly told us how articulate he has to be
supplying to nearly all the temples and
mosques in the city. Marigolds to the temples and Lilies to the mosque. No mix up there!
He shouted something in Bengali
and before I could ask Pushpak to translate, 4 children came running out from
the back of his shop. They were all 10-12 years old boys with flimsy clothes
covering them. They were sweating profusely and one look at their hands made it
clear that they must have been weaving garlands. I looked behind them and
realized they had come up from a basement behind the shop. He proudly pointed
at them and said this was his business model. The kids collected the flowers from
the farms in the morning and brought them to the Bazaar. They sorted them, made
piles of them according to the orders. If a special order for garlands or
wreaths or weddings came along, they would make them. Then they carried the
piles back to a middleman who distributed them further. Pushpak told me that
would be around a 50 km trip for the kids per day. Since every corner of the
city was in reach, it looked easy to
the businessman. He paid them ₹30 per day.
I tried talking to the kids, via
Pushpak, but they looked tired, scared and in a hurry. I turned to Seth and asked why doesn't he eliminate
the middleman and maximizes his profits. Seth looked at me in astonishment and
then looked at Pushpak as if telling him how could I even ask that question.
"These children aren't allowed to enter the temples". Seth answered.
"What about mosques? They can deliver there and save you some
money, right?"
"Saab, these kids are not allowed anywhere."
He said that with no remorse. I
looked at the children who had been standing quietly all this while. Something
in me told me that they understood the conversation between Seth and I. They smiled at me and went
back down.
Harmonized Disorder.
On the way back, I had a last
look at Mallik Bazaar. Seth was right, not every bud blossoms into a
flower. The corners of the flower laden roads were littered with unnoticed
squashed buds.
#FotoFriday prompt posts will be put up on the first Friday of every month by team members of #BlogbuddyWritehouse
This week's #FotoFriday1 fabulous photo-prompt
Image credit goes to my super-talented #blogbuddy Anindya Basu
Team #Blogbuddy Writehouse:
