From the 19th century to today’s times, Kolkata’s urban sensorium has been an integral part of knowing, feeling and remembering the city, Kolkata’s unique soundscape is populated by slogans by rallyists, the steady hum rising at Coffee House from the adda sessions, fish markets, mantras wafting out of loudspeakers on Ashtmai mornings, calls of hawkers, travelling vendors, mattress-makers, bells of trams and hand-pulled rickshaws, and carving of stone and marble. A number of literary and audio-visual works accommodates this cultural phenomenon, like Tarun Majumdar’s ‘Sriman Prithviraj’, which starts with a unique track where Hemanta Mukhopadhyay lends his voice to actor Rabi Ghosh playing a street-pedlar. He sells a unique product, ‘Haridaser Bulbulbhaja’.
Rishika Mukhopadhyay, lecturer at University of Southampton and co-investigator of the project, Urban Sensory Heritage of Kolkata Streets’, feels Kolkata offers a constellation of sounds, including nature (birds, dogs, rain), slogans in rallies, instrumental sounds like dhak at religious festivities and prayers like kirtans or azaans. “Kolkata’s sound culture is not limited to the public sphere and can be extended to private spaces, such as the kitchen or craft workshops, or even a music school. ”
Street vendors and their trade sounds are nothing new. Being the first city of the Empire in India and a flourishing metropolis, Calcutta was introduced to imported as well as home-grown products. The essential things used for religious and social activities constituted a large part of daily transactions. A few familiar products for hawking were food items, cheap jewellery, ropes, flowers, ice, bread, butter, fish, eggs and any item that could be carried in wicker baskets. The vendors even offered services, like ‘ripukarma’ or ‘dnater poka baar kori’.
Amritalal Basu in ‘Puratan Panjika’ and Sashichandra Dutta in ‘The Street Music of Calcutta’ recollected a unique sound from mid-19th century Calcutta: “K-u-u-u-o-o-or-Ghoti-T-o-o-o-la”, meaning pulling out a pitcher that had fallen in a well, reminding us of a time when the city was dependent on wells. From the late 19th century, this cry faded with tap water supply by municipal bodies.
Radhaprasad Gupta’s ‘Kolkatar Feriwalar Dak Ar Rastar Awaj’ gives an account of sounds from vendors and hawkers. As does Abanindranath Tagore’s ‘Apon Kotha’ and ‘Jorasankor Dhare’, which illustrate the auditory world of Kolkata. He comments on the city life and its characters just by listening to sounds. Abanindranath also portrays the picture of the day changing from dawn to noon to dusk to night, through specific, temporal sounds.
Kolkata’s sonic world is reflected in ‘Hutom Pyanchar Naksha’ by Kaliprasanna Sinha. Hutom’s vignettes capture music and cacophonies of the city, including kobigaan, jatra, charak and keertan, alongside official measurements of time in the sound of a clock or cannons at Fort William.
Some other sounds were ‘Muskil asan karabe go’ (Want to solve your troubles) and ‘juta silai, juta brush’ (repairing and cleaning shoes).
A modest number of kabadiwalas or kagojwalas comprises a big percentage of today’s pedlars. We often come across their cry: “K-a-a-a-goj, shishi, botol”. Md Morsalim Molla roams the lanes of Amherst Street and College Street, collecting newspapers from houses. “ I still go back to the houses, from where I had started earning. We have developed a relationship of trust. But I am growing old and find it difficult to walk for long in this hot and humid weather,” said the Lakshmikantapur resident.
“Tulo dhune debo”, the trade cry of cotton-cleaners, armed with a harp-shaped bow or cotton-gin, originated from their very activity — to clean and shred lumped cotton in mattresses and quilts. Though the number of travelling mattress sellers and pillowmakers have reduced, some still visit the paras. Imran Mohammed has been in this trade for 15 years and his day begins in Burrabazar, from where he travels to other parts. But with readymade mattresses, quilts and pillows being sold, demand for people like him is decreasing.
Sayantan Das, another team member of the project and assistant professor at Dum Dum Motijheel College, said they archived over 50 vanishing sounds. “It was to memorialise the city through its distinct sounds. It was also an attempt to look beyond the built heritage and explore the sensory heritage of the city. ”
