The Desire Named Tramcar

Abhinash and Abhradipa board at Esplanade to reach Shyambazar via tram in the morning. Their route for tution class from central to north Kolkata encompasses nostalgia; from the view of Esplanade mansion to the historic bustling market Chandni Chowk,from New Market to the Raja Subodh Mallick Square (Wellington Square),their route with the rumbling tramcar to Asia's largest wholesale book market seems to them a paradisical journey. They sit side by side on the wooden seats and see Kolkata's rich heritage passing by through the window;like chapters of history. The conductor rings the bell to announce stopages at Chandni Chowk or Bowbazar. Some passengers drop and some get up : mostly those who love this clean iconic transport mode from the core of their heart.

  Bashuki Mitra,an avid harmonicist, gets up at Esplanade Tram depot almost everyday from the very beginning station of the tram. His fluency with the mouth organ made him a sensation to all; from the passengers to the driver,everybody adores him and supports him by giving him ten or twenty rupees each. His mellifluous tunes transcend the listeners to a surreal world : the music does away with the shackles of their mind to truly invigorate them to relish the morning bouts the city can showcase.

 In the winter mornings,Abhi and Abhra are draped in woollen jackets and caps, sniffing the chilly breathe and exhibiting the smoke through their mouth.

   "You see that B.B. Ganguly street. My ancestral home is still there. Wilted with the onslaught of time but still it is there."- the harmonicist fingers to the important connector between Bowbazar and Sealdah.

    He resumes with his mouth organ sitting on a empty chair, the tune of "Yeh Dosti Hum Nehi Torenge"- enchanting friendship song,like the tram is his friend,all the passengers are his friend. Abhra lipsyncs with him,Abhi clapping his hands on his thighs.

    Whenever a new stoppage comes,frist is given to him. He prepares for his next mellific tune to revitalize the sear minds. His heart wrenching melody comes from the core of his heart, oblivious of how much money his pocket is collecting rather it counts the smiles on faces or the clasping of hands between two lovers like Abhi and Abhra.

    "My great grandfather worked under the then Calcutta Tramways Company known as CTC. Asia's oldest, Kolkata has seen first tram plying on the roads back in 1873 when horses used to drag it. From 1902, electrified trams started plying."- Bashuki Mitra peers through the window to look by at the enormous book stalls which are readying up their stock pile. A young boy catches the tram running along the footpath for a short distance with two books he just bought from a shop. Something like he is the first one hurrying in this ever bustling city in the wintry morning.

    Abhi and Abhra are listening to Bashuki Sir's chronicle of the history of tram and his family associated with it.

    "My great grandfather,Munshi Mitra, used to travel Esplanade to Kidderpore some times since its inception as the first electrified route. Esplanade to Bagbazar was his regular route as he worked there in the depot. A charming, glamorous lady of a British professor at Hindu College (now Presidency University) , Rosamond Francis also used this route while returning from St. Andrew's Church. It was around 1820. He was about forty and she around thirty. They grew friendship as copassengers and soon it was shaped into a happy marriage."- the harmonicist in a glittering face put on the tune of " Humko Sirf Tumse Pyar Hay"- resounding to the feelings his grandfather or his wife would have felt to each other.

    " She had been given a silver locket from the church,symbolising the love. Tram was their sole public transport to travel and cherish the splendours as you are now doing. "

     Abhi and Abhra are in a desirous thought of the past time when such memorable love feelings happened easily despite much of socio economic transgression.

   "Now my child!"- the old harmonicist, Bashuki Mitra, resumed " Three generations since passed. Great grandfather to my grandfather and then to my father, this silver locket was a symbolism of love, a caress for the couple and a thought provocative of desiring past blessed memories. Many have spent decent times romancing with their partners in this tram. My father gave the locket to me in his last days. Mother passed away after one year."- his eyes becomes langiud with tears rolling down his cheeks silently ,leaving the tram's hitching the only perceived sound.

    The passengers forget to drop by their destination stoppages to listen to his engrossing experiences. He restarts," Now the locket is in my custody. Mother wished me a long happy journey with my wife. But what fate has embroiled me ! My wife is no more. She was injured badly in a road accident,and lost her life after some days tumultuous battle ; both by  physically herself and emotionally with me. I keep the locket since in my pocket. As a token of her presence in the tram. But I think it now best suits to you. Take this. "- he sighs brightly and opens up the locket from his pocket.

 "Now take this my child ! Your love deserve this. You are the young generation upon whom the responsibility lies to preserve the life of tramcars. It is Kolkata's iconic heritage. The Smarnika Tram Museum on Surendranath Uddyan at Esplanade,you can visualise to the reminiscent vivid glories of history of tram in Kolkata." - he falls into a state of being  evermore satisfied as he sees the concern for saving the heritage of tramcars in Abhi and Abhra and in all the passengers who commute with this transport mode.