Armenian Tadka in the Bada Bazaar Daal : Kolkata Diaries II

If you notice how the sleek sabja seeds move over each other in a box, to the point of self flow, you would understand how the most populated areas of India’s foot traffic evolve. If you wanted to find a deer in the headlights at Bada Bazaar, that would be us. Banter, chatter, greetings- everything exchanged in the LinkedIn central of Kolkata. It is said that you could even find a tiger's eye here if you are willing to pay the right price. So we moved pass handcarts loaded with electric motors, wholesale dealers of Holi colours, tea frothing over coal-fired burners, sewing accessories, hoists and ropes with the tensile capacities to string up even the mighty Howrah, if need be. As we were herded below what looked like a thick, black web of electric wires, that sprouted off the knotted tarantula in the center, there stood two foundations on which this network was built. A Marwari Kotha and an Armenian Church.

Being a trading port, the kings of this land have always favoured the Marwaris in the past. Most business meant more revenue and a richer kingdom. After Akbar, his son Shah Jahaan and his grandson also welcomed refugees from Armenia with great hospitality.

Armenians, the Marwaris of the world! They were forced to flee their land due to religious persecution by the Ottoman Turks. Akbar, well known for his secular outlook, thought they would be an interesting lot to observe, given the switch in faith from Islam to Christianity and he offered them refuge in Kolkata. As I hopped and switched lanes to avoid stepping on the tombs, Peter - the smiling Armenian care taker of the Nazareth Church said "Walk over them, its good luck!". He was eager to show his Armenian-ness I thought. As if quite accustomed to tourists frequenting the winding lanes, he gave me a few moments to take in his long nose, black bushy eyebrows, pale skin and a piercing gaze - almost Amish.  Said he would be happy to answer any questions I may have, with a whiff of nonchalance. I had many. However, my guide was jittering for a smoke and rifled away facts trying to get done with it all, sans any trace of passion for the subject and almost bellowing throughout. That was odd I thought, and as if reading my mind he answered, "We Bengalis never liked these guys because we think they helped the British set up Kolkata as their base". It was only partially true because the Armenians were great opportunists. To be able to get into the most profitable businesses of ship-building, indigo, amber and glassware, they assisted the British in setting up camps, introduced them to the ways of the Indians, welcomed them and  cooked them tender meat to their liking. Food has always brought the most sworn enemies on the same table and the adaptable Armenians had several tricks up their sleeve. Every family used to grow a grape vine outside their home, not for the fruit as much as for the leaf. The antioxidants in the leaves kept the meat wrapped tender and fresh. Thus came dolmas into Mediterranean cooking.

 

I hesitantly walked over intricately scripted insets on several tombstones hoping one of them doesn't give way. The alphabet seemed like an amalgamation of Greek, Urdu and Latin. Just like their quirky counterpart on the west coast of India - the Parsis, this clannish sect had brilliant skillsets. 

The Oberoi on Park Street was The Grand Hotel when Arathoon Stephen, the Armenian architect, built it in 1911. He came penniless to the country but soon enough, the hotel became known for its Marine balls, new-year parties and as a hot spot during World War II with over 4000 soldiers billeted there. Another such eccentric soul was realtor Thaddeus who built the heritage structure Park Mansions. Thaddeus owned a Rolls Royce but travelled in rickshaws across the city as he didn't trust his driver with it. As I passed through the double-panelled glass and rosewood doors into the church, I imagined what a thriving time it was for this community back then. I looked around once again surprised at the synergy of the straight English lines, Mughal arches and teak wood roofs from old Hindu temples. This community which had been ostracised over centuries was giving us a simple message through its being.

To bring together our best in the time of adversity. And to continue playing rugby, a sport they are mighty good at.