Kumartuli traces its origins back to the 18th century when artisans were settled on the banks of the Hooghly by wealthy landlords who wanted skilled idol-makers for Durga Puja and other festivals. Over time, the neighbourhood evolved into a dedicated potters’ quarter, with rows of workshops hanging cheek by jowl near the river: The river plays a crucial role, as the sacred clay for idols is taken from its ghats, which is believed to carry spiritual strength. “The river plays a crucial part in our lives,” says Mala Pal, whose forefathers were involved in idol-making at Kumartuli. “Every year, we take the soil, mix it with straw and love, and bring the goddess to life. Without the Hooghly, there is no Kumartuli.”

The lanes of Kumartuli are narrow, chaotic, yet full of colour: Stacks of bamboo poles and clay figures line the narrow pas-sages, while potters work under tarpaulin-covered sheds. In the evenings, a faint smell of wood polish mixes with the aroma of frying fritters from a corner stall. Just a short walk away, hundreds congregate to watch the sunset by the river: Kumartuli is not just for idol-makers and puja committees anymore. It has become an attraction for tourists, photographers, and heritage enthusiasts.

Arindam Dutta, a heritage walk conductor who takes groups from across the world through Kolkata’s historic neighbourhoods, insists that Kumartuli is a must-visit on his itinerary. Foreign visitors crowd the lanes in the weeks before Durga Puja, cameras click-ing, while artisans pause just long enough to smile before returning to their work. “Kumartuli is a must-stop.” says Dutta. “Even if I didn’t put it in my schedule, guests ask for it. They want to see how the gods are created, to take photos and videos. Some are surprised that these fragile figures, some of which are over 20 feet tall, are shipped abroad.”

The paradox of Kumartuli is striking: its idols travel across the globe – from Norway to New Jersey – yet its artisans often live in cramped rooms without secure incomes. Durga Puja brings a rush of work and a brief economic wind-fall, but for many families, the rest of the year is lean. “Our idols go abroad but look at where we stay,” says Bikash Pal, another artisan, gesturing to his one-room workshop. His two-room home, where his family stays, is just behind the workshop. “The world applauds our art, but at the end of the day, our quality of life remains the same.”

Puja organisers are quick to point out how rising costs and competition amongst them are pushing up the prices, but the idol has to be sourced from Kumartuli. “Budgets are rising, everything is more expensive – clay, straws, paints.” says Sambaran Das, who helms a puja committee in Bag bazar. “But we cannot compromise on Kumartuli idols. They are the heart of our puja.”

Despite hardships, Kumartuli is far from stagnant. In recent years, artisans have started taking orders for themed pujas, experimenting with fibreglass, thermocol, and even recycled materials. Some create bespoke idols for NRIs, shipping them across continents. “We have to evolve,” says Kartik Pal, secretary of the potters’ association in Kumartuli, carefully painting the goddess’s eyes. “Earlier, it was only Durga. Now we make Saraswati for schools, Lakshmi for business houses, even Christmas cribs for churches. If we don’t adapt, we won’t survive.”

Beyond gods, Kumartuli’s clay hands shape the likenesses of national icons- Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose, Rabindranath Tagore, Swami Vivekananda. These busts often find their way into institu-tions, cultural centres, and private collections. In this way, the potters are archivists too, preserving Bengal’s pantheon of history alongside its gods.

Walk a little deeper into Kumartuli and you might stumble upon an amusing sight: a tiny shop cluttered with radio parts, where an old man bends over a half-open transistor. This is Amit Ranjan Karmakar, who has repaired radios here for decades, stubbornly holding onto a dying craft in a neighbourhood of idol makers. “People laugh, they say radios are dead,” he smiles, adjusting his spectacles. “But sometimes someone brings me a set their grandfather loved, and they want it to play again. I tell them, like Kumartuli, old things have their place. We refuse to drift into oblivion.”

Kumartuli is not just another neighbourhood – it is a metaphor. It represents Kolkata’s contradictions: Gods born amidst deprivation, heritage living beside modernity, art flourishing amid hardship. On the eve of Durga Puja, when idols emerge in dazzling splendour, the contrast feels most poignant. As Dutta, the heritage guide, sums it up: “When my foreign guests ask, ‘How do they make something so divine in such small, difficult conditions?’ I tell them – that is Kolkata. Creation and chaos thrive here together.”

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Spread across 400 acres with the majestic Fort William on its south and the regal Raj Bhavan hemming its northern limit, the Maidan has been serving as the city’s lungs for nearly 250 years. Its rich history can be traced back to British rule when it was turned into an army parade ground from a jungle. Over the years, the sprawling green space has survived the onslaught of rampant urbanization. It has turned into a recreational space with several sports grounds and historic monuments but remains under the ownership of the Indian Army.

While the Maidan greens serve as an open space where one can laze around, it is also home to Kolkata’s sports clubs and has been upholding the city’s sporting tradition for more than a century. From football, cricket, hockey and basketball to polo and kabaddi, each sport has its marked out grounds and clubs.

To the passionate sports lover, the sweet sound of the willow striking the cherry on an unfenced Maidan ground is a source of great joy. Equally enthralling is the sight of young footballers sweating it out on the slushy fields on a rainy afternoon. The dream of graduating to the Eden Gardens and the Mohun Bagan, East Bengal and Mohammedan Sporting grounds are sowed here.

Steeped in history

It has witnessed conflicts, historic gatherings and political meetings that shaped history and even a duel. In 1780, Warren Hastings, the then governor-general of Fort William, fought a duel with Philip Francis, a member of the Supreme Council of Bengal. Hastings won it though the latter survived the bullet injury.

The development of the Maidan was closely linked to the Fort William that was the centre of power of the burgeoning East India Company, which led to the relocation of the original village of Gobindapur: The fort, however, was originally located at the site where the GPO now stands at BBD Bag. It was burnt down by Nawab Siraj-ud-Daula’s army who defeated the East India forces in 1756. A year later: Siraj-ud-Daula was defeated in the battle of Plassey.

“In 1758, Lord Clive started building a new Fort William at its present Maidan location. It took about 12 years to be built and became the nerve centre of the East India company’s rule.

It was from here that the British not only ruled India but almost the whole of Asia,” said heritage expert Kunal Guha. A century later, Nawab Wajed Ali Shah, who had been exiled to Kolkata, was held under house arrest at Fort William for two years during the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857.

The majestic Victoria Memorial – built between 1906 and 1921 as a tribute to the Queen still stands as the jewel in the Maidan’s crown. The Ochter-lony Monument, renamed Shahid Minar is as much a symbol of Kolkata and its political churnings as the Victoria Memorial.

In 1943, the Maidan hosted a major rally of the Indian National Army led by Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose. Mahatma Gandhi addressed the masses at the Maidan during the Quit India Movement in 1942.

Rally Ground

The Maidan has been the site of significant political rallies, cultural events, and intellectual movements often spurred by politics, playing a vital role in Kolkata’s history. It was here that almost all of India’s leaders from Mahatma Gandhi and Netaji to Indira Gandhi addressed rallies. It was at a rally at the Maidan in 1970 that Mujibur Rehman gave his clarion call to liberate Bangladesh, leading to the war with Pakistan a year later and the creation of Bangladesh.

The Left parties held numerous rallies with thousands converging on the Maidan over four decades from the Fifties, a norm that has been followed by several other parties that used them as a show of strength. They often turned violent and spilled on to the streets. Processions leading to the Maidan came to symbolize the political turmoil of Bengal through the 1960s to 1990s. While environmental norms have curbed the mauling of Maidan and restrictions on rallies have reduced their frequency, it remains a hotbed of political activity.

Sporting Legacy

The iconic Eden Gardens continues to be the sporting face of Maidan. But it’s not the only iconic ground here. Eden has been witness to countless memorable matches including the one between Cosmos Club and Mohun Bagan in 1977 that saw the legendary Pele in action.

Three years later, 16 people were killed in a stampede during an East Bengal-Mohun Bagan match at the same venue. In 1987, Eden Gardens hosted the cricket World Cup final between Australia and England, the first time it had been played outside Lord’s. The Mohun Bagan ground nearby is no less in terms of history. It was here in 1911 that Mohun Bagan defeated the British team East York to lift the IFA Shield.

Maidan has a unique, intoxicating smell, says former Bengal cricket captain and national selector Sambaran Banerjee. “Having played at the Maidan grounds for over three decades I share a unique bond with it. No other city has such a vast expanse of green where every sport is played,” said Banerjee.

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First firang market on Asian soil

The place where we find New Market today was home to Fenwick’s Bazar, also called Dharmatalla Market, in the 1780s. By Act VIII (BC) of 1871 the Justices of Peace for Kolkata judicial officers appointed to maintain peace and order had acquired the land of Fenwick’s Bazar to come up with a new European-style market that would cater to the needs of the rising English population. The construction started from the Lindsay Street side and the south block of New Market – the first English market on Asian soil – was opened on Jan 1, 1874.

Kaustubh Mani Sengupta, assistant professor at the history and archaeology department of Shiv Nadar Institution of Eminence, said: “New Market is one of the enduring legacies of colonial rule in Calcutta.Created for the needs of the European population of the city, it was the first of its kind not only in India, but in Asia.”

The builder of the market was Mackintosh Burn. Architect Richard Roskell Bayne was awarded Rs 1,000 for this Victorian Gothic-style structure. In 1903, Viceroy Lord Curzon renamed the market after Sir Stuart Hogg, the then chairman of Calcutta Corporation. The northern portion of the market was built in 1909 while the clock tower was installed much later, in 1930.

S M Khozaima, a garments trader at New Market, said: “Our business dates back to four generations. Even though so many malls sprang up in Kolkata, our market has a steady footfall round the year because of its legacy”. The present building came up in 1876, two years after the opening of the New Market.

Sudder Street

Even today, most foreigners visiting the city check into the hotels on Sudder Street but the footfall has de creased over the years, especially post pandemic. Known for its ‘bohemian atmosphere, Sudder Street has always attracted foreign crowds that has also given a rise to the business of foreign exchange, street food and cafes. The name of the street was derived from Sadr Diwani Adalat a court located there.

Raj’s Spanish Cafe owner Rajendra Prasad Pal said: “We have got customers from 195 countries. Previously, the crowd was more of foreigners but the scenario changed after thepandemic. Now, we have more Indian customers, especially the young crowd.” Similar thought was shared by Akash Shaw of the Sunshine shop. which is famous for its unique ‘hip- pie’ clothing. “Till 2016, foreign tourists formed 95% of our customer base. It started declining after that and post pandemic. the foreign tourists cater to 5% to 10% of our sales.”

Sudder Street is associated with many historical figures: Rabindranath Tagore had a close bond with the house at 10, Sudder Street where his elder brother Jyotirindranath Tagore and his wife Kadambari Devi lived for a while. Tagore wrote the poem ‘Nirjharer Swapnobhanga’ in this house between 1881-82 as he recount- ed in his book Jiban Smriti’ (My Reminiscences).

Another piece of history on the street is the Elgin Fairlawn Hotel that was originally a bungalow built by Englishman William Ford in 1783. In 1936. it was turned into a hotel that was acquired by Elgin Hotels and Resorts in 2018. Famous Bolly- wood actor Shashi Kapoor and his wife Jennifer Kendal met each other at this hotel. Room no. 17 is known as Shashi Kapoor’s room. Writer Dominique Lapierre had spent a few days in this hotel while writing his book “The City of Joy’ in 1985.

Free School Street

In the 1700s, this area was known to be a bamboo jungle andgradually, the “sahebs” migrated to this side and built houses. In 1810, Free School Street was built and its name came from a charity school run under the Old Mission Church. Later, it was merged with another school to become St Thomas’ School, set up in 1831. On April 13,1830, Lady Bentinck, wife of Governor General William Bentinck, laid the foundation stone of the school. In 1969, the name of the road was changed to Mirza Ghalib Street in honour of the Urdu poet. British novelist William Makepeace Thackeray was born in a house on Free School Street in 1811.

Music lovers flock to this street to purchase records of English numbers. Sushil Mazumdar, an octogenarian, recounted: “In my younger days, I used to buy the records of Nat King Cole, Pat Boone and Frank Sinatra from Free School Street and sellers used to play English numbers on record players.”

Melting pot for cinema lovers

The New Market area, apart from being a shopping zone, was once a meeting point for cinema lovers. Elphinstone Picture Palace, later called Chaplin Cinema, was the oldest cinema hall in this area and it was built by Jamshed Framji Madan in 1907. Other popular cinema halls were New Empire (1932). Globe (1907), Metro(1935), Elite (1940) and Roxy (1940s). Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose was said to have watched the Ashok Kumar starrer ‘Kismat’ at Roxy. Legendary filmmaker Satyajit Ray had a close bond with this area. Uttam Kumar’s inspiration for acting was believed to have come from this area as his father Satkari Chattopadhyay worked in Metro cinema.

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Erstwhile tannery industrial belt

Before the Chinese lanterns and chilli chicken, Tangra was Kolkata’s industrial underbelly – a chaotic, pun-gent, brutal place where commerce and crime thrived. And though the skyline is changing fast, Tangra remains a strange contradiction. Until 2001, Tangra was home to over 600 tanneries, making it one of India’s largest leather processing hubs. Most were unlicensed and polluting. The stench of raw hide, caustic soda, and chemicals hung permanently in the air, turning the narrow lanes into a river of sludge. “Days would pass without seeing the sky as smoke billowing from the tanneries would turn the entire place dark,” said Ah Fu Chang, 63, who worked in his uncle’s tannery on Gobra Road. “There would be lorries entering and exiting Tangra at any given point of time. Several small groups mushroomed, engaged in different crimes”.

Tangra also became a crime-prone belt. Even cops hesitated to enter certain pockets. Rivalries between tannery owners, unions, and different criminal groups were fierce, and violence became common. Locals still speak in hushed tones of bodies being disposed of in acid drums or boiling tanks in the tanneries. “Crime was the outcome of thriving commerce. Different groups clashed over parking, labour contracts, leather residue from tanneries, and political spoils,” said Sanjay Mandal of Sanjay Mandal and Group, a group of musicians who create music with instruments made from scrap and junk. Sanjay and all his colleagues in the band hail from Tangra. “I have lived my entire life in Tangra and witnessed the evolution. Tangra and crime are inseparable. Only the faces have changed,” said Mandal.

Culture Cuisine

But amidst the crime and gore, there was another story taking shape one of culture, cuisine, and quiet dignity. The Hakka Chinese community, many of whom came to Kolkata in the early 20th century settled in Tangra and started tanneries of their own. They built temples and cemeteries tucked into alleyways, set up schools teaching Mandarin, and celebrated Chinese New Year with lion dances and fire-crackers, adding a beautiful dimension to the already diverse cultural landscape of Kolkata. By the 1970s, as the leather business boomed, so did the reputation of the food served in Chinese kitchens. Restaurants like Kafulok, Golden Joy, and Beijing became culinary landmarks known for a new kind of cuisine that wasn’t entirely Chinese or Indian, but something deliciously in-between. “We used to go to Tangra for dinner at least once a month as children,” said Sudipta Roy, now a senior teacher in a south Kolkata school. “The streets were dark, the roads undulating, and the stench unbearable. My father would say if you can survive the smell and commute, you’ve earned your dinner.”

Beneath the success lay anxiety. The Hakka community faced the brunt of the 1962 Sino-Indian war backlash. When the India-China war broke out in the early 1960s, Monica Liu and her family were first taken to a jail in Shillong and then packed off to Deoli in Rajasthan on suspicion of being spies. Years later, she would not only start the first air-conditioned restaurant in Tangra – Beijing – but also rebrand the place as the destination for Chinese cuisine thronged by thousands every day. “Many families left and those who stayed back remained proud of their Chinese Indian heritage,” said Liu, who now owns six eateries in the city and has also earned the moniker of “Don of Tangra”.

Exit of tanneries

The shutting down of tanneries in 2001, after years of environmental concern and court pressure, was the beginning of the exodus of Indian Chinese from Kolkata. The West Bengal govt ordered all tanneries in Tangra to shut down and relocate to Bantala, on the city’s eastern fringes.

It was the end of an era but the beginning of something painful. Thousands lost livelihoods overnight. Hundreds of businesses crumbled. Families sold land at throwaway prices. “My father was forced to sell his tannery and now a high-rise has come up at the same spot. My two brothers migrated to Canada. I shifted to Australia and visit my ailing mother once a year,” said Christina Chen, a former resident of Matheswartala Road. Buildings that once housed industrial units became derelict. Some were usurped. Others were gradually bought by developers. A few Chinese families stayed behind, running restaurants. Most left for different countries, reducing the Chinese population from a thriving 10,000 to only a couple of thousand.

Culinary delight lives on

While the tanneries vanished and the Chinese community dwindled, Tangra-style Chinese food lives on.Dishes like chilli chicken, Hakka noodles, and hot garlic prawns were born in these narrow lanes, cooked in iron woks blackened by years of use. Golden Joy still does packed lunches on weekends. Kim Ling still hands out fortune cookies. Many chefs have left Tangra to set up new-age Chinese joints across the world. “But our heart is still in Tangra. We were forced to migrate as there was hardly any support from the govt,” said Wong Chan Tan, who is now settled in Singapore as a chef.

Realty in the forefront

Yet, the shadow of crime never left Tangra – it simply shifted. The criminal-politician-police nexus that once fed on tanneries now feeds on the towers being built on the same land. Old musclemen have become ‘real estate facilitators’, controlling land deals, extracting cuts from construction contracts, and supplying materials. “Nothing moves here without their nod,” said Mandal. “Only the product has changed earlier it was hides, now it’s high-rises.” Local residents lament that the towering apartment complexes and glossy office blocks have left them behind. Most of the blue-collar work security guards, cleaners, house helps – goes to locals, but the better-paying jobs go to outsiders.”We’ve seen the land, the air, and even the smell change in Tangra,” said Mandal. “But the lives of the locals haven’t changed much.”And yet, the people of the area are as warm as a bowl of noodles. The Chinese temples still open their red wooden doors at dawn. Lanterns still sway in the evening breeze during Chinese New Year celebrations.

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Cut to the present. Joka, a locality nestled in the southern fringes of Kolkata, is leading the real-estate boom in Kolkata, with the past five years seeing over 16,000 new dwelling units. In fact, on both sides of Diamond Harbour Road, leading all the way to the Swaminarayan Temple at Bhasa beyond Pailan – and the Bakrahat Road off Joka – housing complexes have now filled the skyline, replacing the semi-rustic setting that once gave the area its unique identity.

If the metro coming to Joka acted as the catalyst, its addition to the Kolkata Municipal Corporation area was another contributing factor. “I remember coming here and settling as a college student when my mother joined IIM as an employee. The Vivekananda Mission School campus was set up soon after. The 37 route tram to Esplanade was the lifeline in our initial days, and the elevated track made it an unique experience. Back then, hardly shop existed beyond the tram depot. Now, the tram line has been dismantled and the metro line is visible. You get the trendiest departmental stores and self-made apartments with mini theatres. A replica of the Kasba mall is soon to open shop here. Even as life has become a lot easier with better communication and accessibility, I do miss the old rustic charm of this place,” said Swadhin Bose, a resident of Vivek Ville.

Tathagata Mukherjee, an IT executive, was born and brought up in Behala. He has recently invested a fortune – and is even selling his old house at Behala Chowrasta – to shift to Joka. “As a child, we used to go for picnics at Joka. Now, I am convinced that the lifestyle I can lead within that condo is not possible in Behala. We have even admitted our children at VMS Joka,” said Mukherjee.

This transformation evolving from a relatively obscure area into a burgeoning urban locality with a promising future – has been driven by a combination of infrastructural developments, administrative changes, and a real estate boom, all of which have contributed to the changing face of Joka.

Diamond Park from Diamond Harbour Road was earlier broken. “They have paved it now. But there is scope for improving amenities,” he said.

Historically, Joka was part of the greater Barisha region, characterized by its semi-rural landscape and a slower pace of life. The area was primarily governed by the Joka-I and Joka-II panchayats, which managed local administrative affairs. The presence of IIM-Calcutta, established in 1961, was a significant landmark, but beyond this, Joka remained largely underdeveloped and disconnected from the urban sprawl of Kolkata.

A pivotal moment in Joka’s history came in Sept 2012 when it was incorporated into the KMC. This administrative change marked a significant shift, as Joka transitioned from being a part of the panchayat system to becoming an integral part of Kolkata’s municipal framework. The area was reorganized

into wards 142,, 143, and 144 of the KMC.

Another significant infrastructural developments that have contributed to Joka’s transformation is the metro route. It has been a game-changer for the locality. The promise of improved connectivity has not only made Joka more accessible but has also spurred a real estate boom in the area. In 2007, land prices in Joka were relatively modest, with a cottah (approximately 720 square feet) costing around Rs 3 lakh. Fast forward to the present, and the same cottah commands a price of no less than Rs 22 lakh. The prices of residential properties in Joka have increased by 51% from 2019 to 2024, outpacing other areas like Rajarhat, New Town, and EM Bypass. This price appreciation reflects the growing desirability of Joka as a residential hub.

While the transformation of Joka presents numerous opportunities, it also poses certain challenges. The rapid pace of development has raised concerns about the potential for unchecked real estate growth, which could lead to issues such as overcrowding, inadequate infrastructure, and environmental degradation.

The challenge for Joka lies in balancing the demands of urbanization with the need for sustainable development. The area has the potential to become a modern township with well-planned infrastructure and amenities, but this requires careful planning and regulation.

The involvement of institutions like the Indian Institute of Engineering Science and Technology (IIEST), Shibpur, in surveying the area and suggesting measures for building the sewer network is a positive step. However, large-scale improvements in amenities can only be achieved with the active participation of elected representatives who are committed to the area’s development.

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History

The metamorphosis of Jadavpur from a suburban colony into one of the most prominent locations in south Kolkata over the last eight decades shows a

dramatic change in the character of the city. The name Jadavpur is believed to have been derived from the zamindar of Sonarpur, Jadav Narayan Sarkar

and during the British era it was by and large a rural area. Due to its proximity to the municipal area Ballygunge, it could embrace urbanisation faster.

In the wake of the Partition in 1947, the Jadavpur neighbourhoods had witnessed a rise in population after a massive influx of refugees from East Pakistan and thus, colonies were formed. The Calcutta Municipal Corporation Act 1980, which came into effect in 1984, extended the boundaries of Kolkata by including South Suburban, Garden Reach and Jadavpur municipalities in the city. Mamata Banerjee became the youngest parliamentarian in 1984 when she defeated Communist politician Somnath Chatterjee from Jadavpur parliamentary constituency.

Metamorphosis

The story of Jadavpur’s transformation began in 1906 when Swadeshi movement led to establishment of several scientific and technological institutions in the area. The crown jewel among them was Jadavpur University, which evolved from a modest technical institute into a comprehensive educational powerhouse. The two prestigious research institutes by its side made Jadavpur an intellectual hub of Kolkata, challenging the dominance of College Street.

Now, the stretch between the historic Tipu Sultan Mosque and Jadavpur police station tells a tale of dramatic urban renewal. Perhaps nothing symbolizes this change more than the fate of Joy Engineering Works, once the manufacturer of Usha sewing machines and fans. Where workers once responded to the 9 am siren, now stands the imposing South City complex – a modern mixed-use development with residential towers, a school, a club and a mall.

“The 9 am siren was once the heartbeat of this industrial area,” said Amiya Kumar Pal, a resident.

The transformation extends beyond South City. Former landmarks like Lord’s Bakery have faded into memory, while Dhaka Kalibari maintains its

religious significance. Navina Cinema, once known for screening Hollywood films, has reinvented itself as a premier destination for Hindi and Bengali blockbusters. The area now houses at least three high-rises and a trendy club, built on what was once a corporation office. Abhishek Das, a resident, said, “Playing with friends on road, early morning cricket during summer and winter holidays, Durga Puja, Diwali and adda on Sundays make my para an integral part of my life. In past few decades, I have seen changes here with several houses being pulled down for construction of high-rises. But my bond with my para remains intact.”

Change in social fabric

The change hasn’t been merely physical. The social fabric of the area has undergone a significant shift. In the early 1990s, the poorly lit Anwar Shah

Road was considered unsafe, particularly for woman students of Jadavpur University. Local toughs like Sheikh Binod and Sheikh Shahzada were notorious names in the area. Today, the same stretch has been transformed into a bustling urban corridor.

Samrat Bandhopadhay, a resident since 1985, said, “The law-and-order situation has improved dramatically since these developments began. The new

Anwar Shah Road-Southern Avenue Lake flyover and the Jibanananda Setu that leads to Bypass have not just made commuting much more convenient

but also helped add to the cosmopolitan nature with IT executives choosing to set base here.”

The Jadavpur market area near 8B bus stand is a key crossing here due to its proximity to Jadavpur University, KPC Medical College and K S Roy TB

Hospital. Poet Sukanta Bhattacharya had passed away at this TB hospital in 1947 at the age of 21.

Ghumali Bhattacharya, a resident, said, “My locality has witnessed improvements over the years, particularly with the upgraded bus stand complex.

While the bus stand has been revamped, rise in mosquito-breeding grounds due to stagnant water remains a concern. The roads need major repairs, too.”

Local industries

During the British era, native industries flourished in Jadavpur. For example, Bengal Lamp was set up in 1913 and it used to produce fluorescent lights, tube lights and filament bulbs. The factory was locked out in 1989. A popular crossing in the area was named after fountain pen ink brand Sulekha, which is still in production. The company was started by brothers Nanigopal and Sankaracharya Maitra at Rajshahi in Bangladesh in 1934. Two years later, Sulekha shifted its operations to a rented accommodation at Bowbazar and in 1946, it moved to its present location in Jadavpur. “The legacy of our brand has become synonymous with our bond with Jadavpur. Many locals work in our factory and some have been working with us since the time of my forefathers . Though many changes have taken place near Sulekha More, nostalgia still reigns supreme for many when they pass by Sulekha crossing,” said Kaushik Maitra, MD of Sulekha, which was revived in 2006 after its closure in 1987.

National Instruments Ltd, a Government of India undertaking, used to produce gauges and indicators, thermometers, surveying instruments, optical instruments and mass-produced cameras (National 35 model). As it became sick, the unit was closed down and transferred to Jadavpur University in 2009. Other significant industrial units were Annapurna Glass Works and Krishna Glass Works.

Green concerns

Urbanisation of Jadavpur has also led to green concerns over loss of natural water bodies (jheels) and playgrounds to development. Yet, proponents of

the change point to economic benefits, including employment for the youth from surrounding areas like Gobindapur, Bijoygarh and Poddarnagar.

Resident Ratna Dasgupta said, “My para has always been surrounded by natural water bodies and greenery. Although much of it is gone now, the area

is still better than many other localities of Kolkata.”

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The ‘sweeping change’ actually happened post-Covid. “Its metamorphosis from a regular, busy thoroughfare to a food street in less than 10 years has hardly any parallel anywhere else,” says Dhruba Bhattacharya, a physician who grew up here and runs his chamber on JLS.

Much before this upsurge, JLS was marked by a ‘theme puja’ insurrection in the last decade of the 20th century. “It was no less than an artistic revolt against traditional Barowari Durgotsav. The theme puja wave happened on either side of JLS. Later, its influence spread to west Behala as well,” says Bimal Samanta, an elderly artist and one of the precursors of theme art for Durgotsav.

New Culinary Nerve Centre

JLS has emerged as the new ‘eat street’ of Kolkata – a food destination that rivals the likes of Southern Avenue and Park Street. Whether you’re craving a lavish Bengali lunch, a quick bite of continental fusion, or a late-night bowl of noodles, this road has it all.

For traditional Bengali fare, places like ‘Koshe Kosha’ continue to charm with their Mahabhoj Thali and whole ilish bhapa. If you’re craving steaks and Mexican delicacies, Burnfield Café has become a popular niche haunt, despite its small seating capacity.

The café culture is flourishing here. Celestial Café, Tribe Café, and Extra Cheese Bistro offer everything. “Those in search of mainstream bites have

long relied on the two-storey Domino’s, while Tea Junction continues to serve chai and adda in equal measure,” says Anirban Dhar, a JLS resident who is fascinated by this transformation of the street.

Dinner options? From Hatari’s generous Chinese platters to Chowman’s seafood specials, from Tandoor Park’s or Tandoori Darbar’s Mughlai delights

to the newly opened Sartaj’s luxurious spreads, this food street caters to every taste and budget.

And of course, dessert isn’t an afterthought here. With Baskin Robbins and Café Lavassa standing shoulder to shoulder, it’s easy to follow up a kebab platter with a cheesecake or a scoop of cookie crunch.

Path Beneath Your Feet

But what lies underneath this gourmet avenue is a story that deserves remembering. JLS was once the railbed of the Kalighat-Falta Railway (KFR),

built in 1917 by McLeod’s Light Railways. This 2 ft 6 in narrow-gauge line steam engines that greets the ears-it’s riverine towns beyond.

Running at a loss, KFR was shut down in 1957. Its tracks were dismantled, and the rail route was repurposed into a road -a pragmatic solution to a

logistical problem. And so began the slow but sure urbanisation of Behala. The KFR ground, a popular public playground belonging to the railways, still

bears the fading memory.

Today, as public transport improves with the upcoming metro and the street continues to evolve, few pause to think that the very street they dine on was

once a railway line through villages and green fields. “JLS has been an avenue with tall trees covering its path from either sidewalk. But the widening of the road in 2012-13, felling hundreds of trees, left it completely bereft of its green cover. The reduced width of the sidewalk has also made it unsafe for

pedestrians,” said Gour Mukherjee, an octogenarian resident of JLS.

James Long Sarani, named in his honour, stands as a living legacy – a street where history runs beneath modern-day wheels and footsteps. From

railway track to food track, the evolution of James Long Sarani is not just about urban transformation – it’s a story of a city’s layered past.

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home of Bengal chief minister Mamata Banerjee, who chose to stay in her ancestral home at nearby Harish Chatterjee Street. The area has undergone a quiet shift over the last two decades -from a neighbourhood built on artistic legacy to a high-security pocket where tradition coexists with surveillance.

Traditionally, Patuapara housed around 60 families of artisans – many of whom transitioned from patachitra painting to idol-making in the mid-20th century. Located less than a kilometre from Kalighat temple-one of the 51 Shakti Peeths – the area was once a hub for pilgrims, painters, and potters. Kalighat paintings – bold, colourful depictions of gods, goddesses, and later, urban life – were sold as souvenirs near the temple and transported via Adiganga, then a waterway linked to the Hooghly.

Cut to 2025 and the scene has changed. While clay, straw, and bamboo still spill on to courtyards during Durga Puja, a new element dominates the para: security. Every lane leading to Harish Chatterjee Street is now under surveillance. Hundreds of police personnel are deployed across the neighbourhood at any time of the day. Permanent barricades, CCTV cameras, police kiosks, and ID checks have become a part of daily life.

“I’ve lived here all my life but I still get stopped sometimes when I hang around with friends who are not from this area,” said a grocery store owner on Kalighat Road. “We take pride in the fact that we live next to the home of the chief minister. In a way, it makes our neighbourhood one of the most secure places, but such has been security checks here that if you’re not recognised, you get questioned every time.”

The impact is especially evident in the lives of idol-makers. Laltu Pal, whose family has been crafting Durga idols for generations, said night work during the festival season now requires prior police permission. “Earlier, we would work late without any concern. Now if any outsider enters our workshop, the police want to know who they are and why they’re here,” Pal said.

Photography, once welcomed by artisans hoping for publicity, is now subject to informal restrictions. As a result, while photographers from across

the world crowd Kumartuli, they avoid Kalighat Road. “Last year, I was clicking photographs of the idol-making process and daily life street photographs of the vibrant neighbourhood. A cop came and asked me questions and forced me to delete several photographs,” said a freelance photographer.

While there’s no official ban, locals say permission is expected, especially if cameras are pointed towards Harish Chatterjee Street. Multiple instances of intrusion at the CM’s home and multiple political parties targeting her home for demonstrations have further intensified security.

The result is a transformation not just in logistics but in identity. Older families moved out, citing increased living costs and discomfort. Old buildings

with ‘kori-borga’ ceilings, inner courtyards, and lime-mortar construction made way for multi-storeyed apartments. Real estate prices surged, and local businesses, from tea stalls to tailoring shops, ad to adapt. “There’s more attention on is. It’s not the same para we grew up in, local said.

Still, the art of idol-making survives. “We may be fewer in number, but our work still goes out across the state,” said Nikhil Pal, a veteran potter. “Even with changes, we are still here.”

One part of the para that retains a strong link to its artistic past is the home of Bhaskar Chitrakar (48), a fourth-generation patachitra artist who learned the art from his father Dulal Chitrakar. He still paints in the Kalighat style, albeit with a contemporary twist. From gods and goddesses to Babu-Bibi in an auto rickshaw taking selfies, Babu playing golf, and Frida Kahlo in traditional poses, his work blends the past with the present. Each painting sells for around Rs 15,000, mostly on online platforms. “I started drawing on canvases when I was just 14 and the subjects ranged from Kali to Babu-Bibi, but the popularity of the Kalighat paintings has declined,” Chitrakar said.

The decline of patachitra began in the early The decline of patachitra began in the early 20th century when mass printing made hand-painted scrolls economically unviable. While artists like Sirish Chandra Pal once gained recognition, none of his sons continued the tradition. Some, like Pal’s

descendants, turned to idol-making – a craft that offered more financial security. Theme artist Bivas Mukherjee, who once lived in the para, said: “Patachitrakar was the subject of my Puja themes at least thrice. The history here is deep, but the environment is different now.”

Despite the changing face of the locality, some traditions live on. Every year, on the penultimate day of the Bengali New Year, the para still hosts

the ‘Jelia Para Shong’ – a rally known for its satirical take on social excesses, often accompanied by Shiva devotees and mock ghosts, an echo of Kali’s fearsome entourage. “We have new buildings now, but our roots run deep,” said 83-year-old Rabi Chatterjee, a lifelong resident.

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By the early 1970s, the first residents began to arrive- teachers, clerks, govt officers, and professionals – drawn by the promise of clean streets, planned roads, open spaces and quiet living. The timing coincided with a tumultuous historical moment: during the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War, Sector II of Salt Lake temporarily housed over a lakh refugees. Soon after, the township hosted the Congress party’s national session. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi stayed in the newly built guest house, later renamed Indira Bhavan, which eventually became the home of CPI(M) patriarch and former CM Jyoti Basu.

Through the 1980s and into the ’90s, Salt Lake’s reputation began to crystallize. With 64 blocks and five sectors, it wasn’t just a satellite township anymore – it was the address to be at. While the rest of Kolkata struggled with crumbling infrastructure and narrow lanes, Salt Lake represented vision, order and quiet affluence.

Each block was carefully planned, complete with parks, community markets, and housing plots that came with their own garages. The concept of “para’

evolved into something more sophisticated: neighbours gathered in well-maintained parks, shopped at clean markets that were zoned, and bonded over morning walks and evening adda sessions in open fields.

Residents recall those years with unmistakable fondness. “When we moved here in 1985, it felt like a different country,” said Kalyan Chakraborty (80),

a former state govt employee and one of the oldest residents of Salt Lake. “Wide roads, green cover, no hawkers cluttering the pavements. It was peaceful and elegant – something Kolkata wasn’t.”

Chandra Mukherjee of AC Block echoed the sentiment: “In the ’90s, this was a power address Ministers, bureaucrats, film stars – everyone who mattered had a house in Salt Lake.”

Indeed, under the Left Front regime, Bidhannagar became the nerve centre of political power.

Former CM Basu resided here, as did cabinet members like former sports minister Subhas Chakraborty and former finance minister Asim Dasgupta. Their presence turned Salt Lake into a fortress of authority and sophistication. It was not uncommon to spot actors, academics, and senior officials mingling in neighbourhood events or catching a morning walk around the stadium.

Civic infrastructure kept pace. The township boasted of an international-standard football stadium – Vivekananda Yuba Bharati Krirangan – as well as City Centre mall, a dedicated fairground, and its own swimming pool. Add to that well planned roads separated by traffic islands, a healthy drainage system, clean water supply and strict building regulations that limited height and prevented congestion, Salt Lake was held up as the model for future Indian urbanism.

But like all cities built on dreams, Salt Lake, too, has seen its foundations shift. Over the last 15 years, a slow but steady transformation has taken hold.

The children of the original settlers, now professionals in their 30s and 40s, have increasingly moved away – either to other Indian cities or

abroad. Left behind are elderly parents, large family homes, and a township gradually hollowing from within. “In most big houses, elderly residents

live alone,” said Gora Roy, secretary of CF Block residents’ association. “Their kids live elsewhere and elderly couples are left by themselves. Many have moved away with their kids, leaving the homes empty.”

To make practical use of these homes – and to generate income – many residents have converted their ground floors into commercial spaces. Cafes,

boutiques, coaching centres, salons and clinics have popped up across blocks. While this has infused Salt Lake with a buzz of activity, it has also opened

the doors to more dubious enterprises.

In recent years, the township has made headlines for the wrong reasons: fake call centres operating out of residential homes, shady spas, and illegal set-ups that exploit the lax enforcement in what was once a tightly regulated space. Police crackdowns are routine and one of the primary jobs of cops now is to check on elderly residents.

Adding to this is a demographic shift. A large number of non-Bengali-speaking families have bought into the township. Older stand-alone houses have been sold, razed and replaced by apartment blocks. The skyline is rising but so is the density -and, in some cases, the friction. The once homogenous Bengali para is now more diverse, but also less cohesive. But with commercial interest intensifying, and property rates soaring, enforcement remains

patchy. The township, once proud of its uniformity and restraint, now finds itself grappling with the pressures of unregulated growth.

Still, there is hope. Salt Lake remains one of the greenest and most infrastructure-rich areas in the greater Kolkata region. Its community parks, while

less populated than before, continue to serve as gathering points. The local markets – despite facing competition from malls and online platforms – retain loyal customers. And in quiet corners, some para traditions endure: a shared cup of tea at dusk, neighbourhood Durga Pujas, a Sunday trip to the fishmonger. “During the first few decades, there was no para culture in Salt Lake as people from outside came up and started living here. Slowly, the block associations came up and a community bonding developed. Now, every block has its own para culture with everyone feeling included,” said Kumar Shankar Sadhu, former secretary of Bidhannagar welfare association.

Salt Lake has never just been about buildings, boulevards, water tanks and traffic islands. It’s always been about people – coming together, making a para their own, and turning the township into home.

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Even before homeowners could move in, the flats of Kalindi were opened to people displaced by the massive floods of 1978. For months, they stayed in these flats until the water receded. “When we moved into the flat, the floors bore burn marks from cooking by those who took shelter here. It was not a delightful sight, but we were happy that the flat helped people desperately seeking shelter in that disaster,” said Subhadip Roy, an employee with a private bank in Kolkata.

“Inside the 800-plus flats at Kalindi, many first-generation residents were clerks, govt employees, small traders, schoolteachers, and refugees who gained a foothold in the urban economy,” said Sounita Mukherjee, PhD researcher and teaching assistant with the University of California Davis.

Families started moving into the flats of Kalindi from Nov 1978. Abhro Ghosh, former political science professor at the Presidency College, moved into Kalindi by Dec 1978. “There were a handful of families in the neighbourhood. The plot area of Kalindi was not occupied till then, and we had a straight approach to Jessore Road. Bitumen layers were laid on the road connecting the housing area with Jessore Road much later. Streets were largely dark at night. We had to carry torches while going out in in the evening,” he said.

In a quarterly bulletin, ‘Prabaha’ – one of the oldest publications of Kalindi residents – Ghosh recounted how the newly built housing society struggled to establish its identity. “In those days, bus commuters had to get down either at Lake Town or Tetultala, and walk to the housing. We had to argue with the bus conductors who seemed to not know about Kalindi’s existence. It took nearly two more years for the Kalindi bus stop to come up,” he said.

According to Sounita Mukherjee, Kalindi Housing articulates “a different aesthetic and spatial logic – that of planned modernity as envisioned by the postcolonial welfare state”. In an article she wrote, “Constructed in the 1970s by the West Bengal Housing Board, the estate occupies more than 12 acres of wetland, methodically carved into uniform blocks, landscaped plots, and metalled roads. Today, Kalindi embodies a layered urban morphology – where a row of one-storey refugee homes abuts private builder flats, and local bazaars remain vital alongside app-based delivery economies.”

In the next one-and-a-half decades, Kalindi went through rapid transformations. “Onestorey houses started to be built in the plot area. The first Durga Puja was organised in the early 1980s, and that was a landmark moment for Kalindi residents. The first evening market at Kalindi started functioning from 1983. Until then, we had to walk for more than a kilometre to buy vegetables or groceries,” said Narayan Chandra Pal, a resident and an active member of Kalindi Bahumukhi Janakalyan Samiti. The Samiti was set up in 1988, initially to cater to the demand for ambulances and medicines for the locals.

With the expansion of the VIP Road and proximity to the airport, Kalindi, home to more than 5,000 residents, started feeling the pressure of “vertical expansion” and gentrification along with it. According to Barun Deb Ghosh, a resident, the younger generation moved out of the area. “First settlers still occupy most of the flats. You can often spot a group of elderly people chatting on a bench or reading newspapers in the courtyards. We still have a library, and residents hold blood donation camps and eye check-up camps. We planned to set up a community hall, too. Unfortunately, that didn’t materialise,” he said.

Kalindi Bratyajon, a theatre group formed by state education minister and a resident Bratya Basu, started to operate from its Kalindi Housing Estate office in 2012. “This has helped Kalindi find yet another identity. Over the years, it got intricately involved with a new cultural identity of Kalindi,” said Pampa Deb of Kalindi Bratyajon.

Poet Hindol Bhattacharjee, who grew up in Kalindi, rued how real-estate development gradually crowded the skyline dotted with large trees. “Multi-storeyed buildings started to thrive near Jessore Road. In 2002-03, Kalindi Vatika was developed over four acres. The demography started to change, and Kalindi’s culture was influenced by a multi-ethnic, heterogeneous population. Trees were chopped down, and the green cover started withering away,” Bhattacharjee said.

However, in 2019, residents joined hands to form a group called “Gachher Dol” (group of trees), which focused on restoring the green cover of Kalindi, planting trees, and replantation or transplantation of trees. Nandini Roy, a homemaker and one of the founder members of the group, said, “This has helped restore the microbiodiversity we had. Birds and butterflies have started coming back to the area. We are also focused on the preservation of soil. Kalindi, which was decaying, has started getting a fresh lease of life,” she said.

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