KANCHAN AND NOVELTY - CINEMA HALLS OF KALIMPONG

KANCHAN AND NOVELTY - CINEMA HALLS OF KALIMPONG

- a Fading Snapshot

( J S Simick )

Kanchan and Novelty had a fond place in the hearts of the people of Kalimpong. Dreams, songs, love, modernity - all these, were found here. For this secluded town, they served as a magical door which opened the wide world beyond the Teesta bridge.

These two entertainment hubs were situated at the ends of the action area of the town - Damber Chowk, Main Road and Thana Dara. Groups of two or more ambled to and fro along this thoroughfare. Friends and crushes were met many times. The common excuse was to see the “Coming” posters. Long before they were screened, posters of Spartacus, Mughal e Azam, Guns of Navarone, Jewel Thief, Mother India, Guide, titillated eager viewers.

“Kanchan” was written vertically on a huge, off-white cement edifice. People from as far as Algarah and Teesta Bazaar were attracted here. A circular fountain with bright lights led the way to a large porch with ticket counters.  Novelty also boasted a garden surrounded by a cement parapet just in front of the curved welcoming steps.
I once had a glimpse of the owner of Novelty, a fair, elderly man, in snow white kurta and dhuti, with a cream shawl over his shoulders.

Parking was never a problem because only a handful of people had two or four wheelers. It was walking all the way. एघार (11) number गाड़ी, as it was said, was universal.

Tickets Prices : Front Stall - Rs 0.40 ( Paanch Aaney)
Middle Stall - Rs 0.65 ( Dus Aaney)
Rear Stall - Rs 0.95 ( Pandrah Aaney).
Dress Circle - Rs 1.25
Sofa - Rs 2.50
FREE - Pandrah August - one patriotic national film, with a song like “Mera Rang De Basanti Chola”

On Haat days, Wednesdays and Saturdays, to cater to the village people, there was the extra Matinee show at 12 noon. Other days there were the Afternoon (2 pm), Evening (5 pm) and Night (8 pm) shows.

The Stall tickets were sold just before each show. The tickets had to be bought through a hole in a concrete wall which allowed just one fist to pass. Shoving, grinding bodies made mockery of the queue line. Muscular lads from the bustees, tussled with the bazarey black wallas. The latter were notorious for raksi and chhuri. One huge ferocious looking man in black baku was given the tough task of maintaining order in the Stall counters at Novelty. There were sometimes more live action here, than in the Western movie for which they were clamouring.

Advance tickets for Dress Circle and higher classes, were also available from a shop in Main Road, beside the present SBI ATM. From a solid wooden cash box in a corner of a wide, white gaddi, out came the coveted ticket bundle. The tickets were extra thin papers of pink, yellow and green. Seat numbers were scrawled in thick illegible blue or red crayon, which only the usher could read.

Publicity for coming films were done by criers who went around the town with a drum and poster. They created an inquisitive din. They went as far as 12th Mile. Posters pinned on wooden boards were also placed at busy points.

Show time meant a darkened hall where the screen ruled supreme. Johnny Walker with his signature pencil moustache and the extra large Tun Tun evoked great cheers. Dilip Kumar, Rajendra Kumar, Shashi Kapoor, Dev Anand, ruled as supreme idols. Raj Kumar was the reticent hero. Nanda, Tanuja, Asha Parekh, Nargis, Nutan, Sadhana with fringe cut hair, Mumtaz with her upturned nose, dimpled Sharmila Tagore, were the ruling divas. Mala Sinha was special, because of, or in spite of, her roots. Zeenat Aman showed girls how to be socially assertive. Mehmood, I S Johar and Om Prakash evoked quite a lot of laughter.  Poor Pran, never was a man more reviled and cursed than him, and how the crowd hated the way he twirled a biri in his smirking mouth. Nirupa Roy was the ultimate mother.  All problems on the stage would be solved by the ever so decent Ashok Kumar and Hangal. Then came Helen, very few could see the perfect artiste beneath her skimpy costume. This cabaret beauty’s one dance scene would often be the sole reason for many to buy a ticket. Bald David was the elderly darling with a pivotal role. Shashikala and Lalita Pawar often played negative roles. Balraj Sahni was liked a lot. Kishore Kumar then, was an actor and not yet a singer. Dara Singh was looked at in awe by fledgling body builders. Simi and schoolboy Rishi did a hill scene in ‘Mera Naam Joker’. After Shammi Kapoor’s ‘’Junglee” film, screams of “Yahoo .. ! “ were heard even in distant villages. Raj Kapoor’s epic film ‘Sangam’ with Vyjayantimala, had Mukesh’s hit songs, and stretched to a record long run. The whole town went all crazy with the film ‘Aradhna’ where Rajesh Khanna and Sharmila Tagore enacted the song ‘Mere Sapno Ki Rani Kab Aeyegi Tu’- complete with dhaka topi and toy train.

After watching ‘Bhoot Bungla’ and ‘Woh Kaun Thi’ one had to act calm while walking in dark lonely places and control the urge to look around and run.

Eyes were wiped, noses blown, and sobs repressed by ladies while watching the orphan boy and his friend in the film ‘Dosti’. And Mohammed Rafi’s ‘ Jaane Waalo Jara, Murkey Dekho Muje’ did nothing to stop the tears. All of Lata Mangeshkar’s songs were well received. Asha Bhonsle’s ‘Chura Liya Hai Tumne Jo Dil Ko’ made her another star. Mukesh, Manna Dey, Mahendra Kapoor, had a considerable following.

Madhubala’s legendary loveliness bloomed in black and white prints with hardly any photoshopping.  It was much later that Eastmancolor from Kodak, and Technicolor brightened the small screens which later expanded into the grand CinemaScope.

The two duos of Shankar Jaikishan and Laxmikant Pyarelal made a gamut of popular melodies. R D Burman also stood tall. Another duo Salim Javed wrote the memorable dialogues. Sahir Ludhianvi’s words in many songs , like ‘ Kabhi Kabhi Mere Dil Mein’, and ‘Chalo ek Baar Phir Se’ enraptured hundreds.

Kalimpong wore a festive look during the screening of ‘Maiti Ghar’. Mala Sinha carried the film well. The mystery of “Bik Malai Nirmaya .. “ still remains.

Chinky eyed teens, student lamas, elderly ladies in woollens, even taxi drivers, sang with considerable skill the hit songs like ‘Chaudavi ka chaand ho’ / ‘Sau saal pehle muje tum se pyaar tha’ / ‘ Taarif karu mai uski’. Their Hindi diction and words were perfect. It was remarkable how people in remote mountains, who had never even been to Siliguri, could relate so closely with the national mainstream.

It was not at all quiet on the western front. The Guns of Navarone’ roared with the screen giants Gregory Peck, Anthony Quinn, and David Niven. Block bookings by schools were done for ‘The Longest Day’. The Austrian mountain slopes showed in ‘The Sound of Music’ were so different from ours. Hill boys loved cowboys and ‘The Magnificent Seven’, ‘ The Good the Bad and the Ugly’, ‘They call me Trinity’ were seen multiple times. Charles Bronson, Clint Eastwood, Yul Bruner, Ernest Borgnine, Lee Van Cleef, Eli Wallach, Lee Marvin, Paul Newman, Steve McQueen, - were easily recognised. Drivers and helpers in the Motor Stand could be seen enacting a Laurel and Hardy scene or trying out a Charlie Chapman shuffle. Cliff Richard’s ‘The Young Ones’ and ‘Summer Holiday’ were runaway hits. So many people hummed his songs ‘Bachelor Boy’, ‘Travelling Light’ and ‘Evergreen Tree’. Elvis Presley did his unique thing in ‘Jailhouse Rock’. The cartoon ‘Tom and Jerry’ before the main film was eagerly watched. Alfred Hitchcock mesmerised the town with his ‘Dial M for Murder’, ‘The Birds’ and ‘Psycho’. Charlton Heston could never have been replaced as the hero in ‘Ben Hur’, ‘Ten Commandments’ and ‘Planet of the Apes’. Musicals like ‘The West Side Story’ were sparse. Christopher Lee was the quintessential Dracula. From huge framed portraits which lined the staircases, Rock Hudson, Burt Lancaster, Ava Gardner, Sophia Loren, Gina Lollobrigida, Tony Curtis, surveyed the motley crowd with a hint of amusement.

Films could be good or bad, but the extravaganza on offer during the Interval was always exciting and hurried. Long tapering badam ko khochhi were bought by nearly everyone. Brown fried chana in green saal ko paat, adorned the numerous stalls around the hall. Alu Dum, reddish yellow, looked tempting. Boiled whole eggs, fried brown, beckoned first timers. Chhurpi was widely sold. Bataarey and Khurma were taken inside the hall. For the seriously hungry there was the momo, or simo, which had to be gobbled before the bell sounded. ( To get ‘phambi’ at that time, you would have to zoom 50 years ahead into the future. )

The Paan Dokaaney’s shop was always crowded. Suparis, plain or sweetened, and dried nariyel, NP chewing gums, bubble gums stared from inside glass jars. Cigarettes like Scissors, Four Square, Panama, Gold Flake, Cool, Wills filter kings, Charminar, were hurriedly huffed and puffed in the washrooms, in order to be on time for the vital opening scene.

The sensual waterfall girl in the Liril soap advertisement was one of Kalimpong’s own. People hurried so as not to miss her clip.  When the sound failed, one person from the audience carried on with the high notes of the Lifebuoy jingle.  The crowd joined vociferously in the Vicco Vajradanti song. Colgate went all out to promote its Hair Oil and Tooth Powder. Different beauties and hunks paraded Lux, Palmolive, Binaca, Keo Karpin, Himalayan Snow Cream. One grandmother stubbornly refused to return home without buying , a bar of 501 Soap she had just seen being advertised.

Fancy jackets, bell bottoms, jewel thief hat, long sideburns, folding umbrellas from Hong Kong, and overcoats and boots - the latest ‘in’ things were seen in these two halls.

And unlike in Facebook, here you bumped into real-time, flesh and blood beings with whom a host of emotions were expressed in the brief “Hello” before the screen took over.

Wrinkled and forsaken now, Kanchan and Novelty were pretty maidens, once upon a time in Kalimpong....

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THE TASTE OF GOS-PUPS AND THE ROTIWALA 

- from Fading Snapshots of Kalimpong

by K Guliyo

Fond memories of the hills are never complete without a mention of the humble Rotiwala. The contents of his box, with Gos-pup the bestseller, have charmed the hearts and tummies of so many people.

A picture shown below is from a film taken in Kalimpong in 1957 by Mr Watson Kintner in a non-audio 30mm camera. It shows a Rotiwala among Tibetan traders in a mule camp. The alien Rotiwala has, over the years, earned an endearing place in hill folklore.

The drab tin box balanced on the head of the Rotiwala, was taken precariously down steep winding pathways and distant village roads. In Kalimpong the Rotiwalas went as far as Algarah, Relli, Chitrey, Chhibo, Bom, Durpin. Sandalled feet with kurta, and with pyjamas or lungi, and a feta (turban) with a long tail at the back was the signature turnout of these hardworking, cheerful characters. It was walking by foot all the way. No cars then. A big black umbrella was a help in the sun, the rain and a protection from dogs.

Gos- pup, the star celebrity inside the box is a triangular patty. Inside the crisp shell is an enticing pinch of minced meat hidden among bold fleshy pieces of onion. The crackling outer shell was savoured and chewed with the certainty that the meat pieces would come under the bite, sooner or later. Oftentimes the eyelids closed as the heavenly taste spread in the mouth. The initial slow munching invariably turned into a frantic gobbling as the body wanted more of this sublime food.

The upper compartment of the tin box was divided into several square sections. There was also a similar looking product which had sugary taste, known as CHINI-PUP. Then there was the NARIYEL-PUP with coconut inside. KHURMA, small sweet fried balls were served in fours or twos, on a piece of torn newspaper. The heart-shaped, yellowish QUEEN CAKE was soft and sweet. In the huge bottom compartment were the LOAVES with brown, curved, bloated humps. BUNS were also among the loaves. The prized presence in the lower compartment were CAKES – brown, with black “kissmiss” visible, and the round discs encased in half burnt paper. There was also the soft, yellowish, heart shaped QUEEN CAKES.

One of the bakeries was at Tirpai. This crude factory was near the shade of a huge bar-peepul tree. Huge stacks of firewood and “patthar koyla” (coal), kept the huge flames alive inside a ramshackle hut. From the “bhhatti” inside this humble hut, delicacies emerged that titillated numerous mouths in many valleys and meadows.

Even the most ferocious dogs in the villages gave a joyous welcome to the Rotiwala, flattening their ears and vigorously wagging not only tails but their entire hips !

Strategic selling points were located at discreet corners around all the big Schools. The Principals pretended not to know about these sales outlets – they were after all, not so silent admirers of the queen cakes and gos-pups.

Hill people give interesting names. One Rotiwala baajey in the 8th Mile area had the affectionate name " Grandpa”. The one who came to our village had earrings and his name was "Kundaley". The one who serves the SUMI School area even today is called, for obvious reasons, "Handsome" ! (see Picture !).

Social interaction was the pleasing fallout to the ritual of hogging up the tasty items. Much hello-ing, catch–upping, and time passing, were done around the Rotiwala’s box which was parked in a patch of cosy greenery overlooking huge mountain valleys.

Eating on credit, that is, having a “baakee,” was common among boys ( - girls too, I learnt later !) . It involved great fun in leg pulling and in jokes of divulging this fact to the debtor’s parents or girlfriend !

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Picture one –
In the SUMI compound, the famous Rotiwala known as HANDSOME
Picture two –
Handsome's delicacies !
Picture three -
This is from a film taken in Kalimpong in 1957 by Mr Watson Kintner in a non-audio 30mm camera.
It shows a Rotiwala among Tibetan traders in a mule camp.
( from the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology in the University of Pennsylvania. )
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THE LEGEND OF TEESTA RANGEET

TEESTA  RANGEET

-J S Simick, 26 May 2013

Teesta and Rangeet
were two strangers, brought into a hug with each other.The hug never ended.

Was it in serene playfulness
the ancient mountains planned
a wedding between these two darling rivers ?

Cruel gravity made Teesta leave his womb in India’s highest lake, Cholamu.
Boosted by streams from Thangu, Yumthang and Donkia-La ranges
he hopped down verdant valleys.

Not even at Rangpo did the river know
a wet maiden would enfold him at the next curve at Beni.

Melting snows of West Sikkim made Rangeet realize
it was time to leave her glacial home.

The nubile Himalayan beauty climbed down,
exploring Jorethang, Pelling, Legship.
How would she know that the next valley would bring
a hunky Teesta in whom she would lose herself.

How did Teesta and Rangeet fall into each other’s arms ?
Tirbeni near Teesta Bazar simply happened to be there,
and became an astounded host
to a sublime consummation.

The sensuous confluence,
of two primordial forces of life,
instills a magical homage
that has brought to life flutes, strings, drums,
ballads and folklore that breathe with the hills.

But the eternal anthem of Teesta Valley was cut short.
Only eight miles down, the couple was waylaid
by a hydro- power dam.

Dishevelled,
Teesta Rungeet still flows,
her torn state revealing intact nobility …

As she emerges from the valley
the regal river is offered a concrete garland
by the arch of Coronation bridge.

And
Teesta Rangeet continues her timeless journey,
spreading cool relief to the scorching plains …

///

A FACEBOOK FRIEND -BY ACCIDENT


- J S Simick

And there is this girl,a lady,a woman,who has landedsomehowbangon my Facebook page.



She prances around with-her highly mobile toddlers,basks in her hubby's erudition,and puts up picturesof fun in the beach.



Here's a stranger, I don't know,who splashes her TimelinewithLove for babiesFree thinkingDown to earth honestyZest for living.


My presencein her Friend's Listis at best,a humble accident.



But then,I have survived in that roll of honoursome several years now.


To unfriend herto block herwould be locking out of my world,the good things of life.


And so,I simply watch, ( peep ? )as her life unfolds.


A Likeor a Comment,would be toointrusive ..



///x

COUNTRY FLAVOURS AND CHILDHOOD JOYS !

By K Guliyo

( Special Thanks to Mr Ganesh Mani Pradhan - for the nomenclature of items included in this humble pageantry - and for providing some vibrant pictures )

***

Before they fade into the sunset of time, these hill flavours deserve a look.

They were, after all, the maids of titillation. They were pursued over hills and valleys. The connoisseurs who gathered them were often barefooted, with a sickle ( hasiya ) tucked in the patuka, and a doko behind the back. The hill countryside was where these flavours thrived.

Enter the first diva - the buxom, juicy ASELO. { AISELU, RASPBERRY , Rubus ellipticus } Gathering them together and stuffing a big handful into the mouth was pure joy ! Searching for the yellow beauties through prickly gaps in the leaves was such fun. Picnics in remote countryside ( like Delo of old ) were much brighter with Aselo bushes around.

A passionate tryst with KIMBU { MULBERRY, Morus species } could never be kept a secret. The devouring was often done sitting on the branches of the tree. A happy culprit would have his tongue and fingers coloured magenta-black with the juice. Happy too, would be the kids, when out came the dark Mulberry Jam to sweeten dull rotis.

Even passing near a TUM TUM tree {RUKH RAMBERA, Cyphomandra betacea } used to make our teeth tangy. Roasted over embers and crushed with fresh chillies the achaar had a peculiar sour taste which brightened drab meals. Hyperactive boys preferred to suck the raw entrails from a hole made at the tip of this egg shaped fruit.

Huge CHERRY trees { PAYOONG, Prunus cerasoides } were shaken at night, but not by ghosts. Giant chameras ( flying foxes, bats ) rustled and bobbed the branches up and down as they hogged the ripe cherries. Hungry foxes, ate the ones on the ground. The naughty foxes excreted big mounds of cherry seeds at very visible places. And naughty boys after sucking out the thin bittersweet outer shell, competed who could spit the seeds the farthest.

The pigs will die ! Don't ever give TIMBUR to the pigs ! This was what my wrinkled Granny used to say. { Bokay Timboor, Zanthozylum armatum } This fatal power made the Timbur all the more exotic. Our sons and grandsons will never find out the pungent, peculiar essence of Timbur ko achaar. By the time a digital App comes with a virtual scent, the Timbur will have disappeared !

Oh love of my life ! I miss your shiny violet shell ! I crave for your enchanting seedy flavour ! I last saw you embracing a bamboo gate at 12 1/2, Mile. You were drooping with your luscious produce. Where are you now, dear GARENDALE ? {Passiflora edulis}

Faces puckered as the famously sour LAPSI ko achaar was relished. Planting a Lapsi tree near a homestead was, supposedly, inauspicious. But with Lapsi candies in full commercial bloom nowadays, the Lapsi {Choerospondias axillaris } is very much here to stay. A catapult ( kyatees ) was useless in bringing down Lapsis from the tree. What was needed was a jhataro.

Should we not clap for those coming second, or third ? Your Majesty King Dalley, please move over, for here comes AAKASHEY and JEERAY. These chillies were hot, hot, hot. The Aakashey khorsani had its tip pointed vertically to the aakash. These plants were found near chicken cages, because they thrived on chicken poop ( kookhra ko suli ). Jeeray was hardly 1 cm long and any 'na pathyouney maanchhey' would soon be gasping and lolling ! A 'chhuchi' girl was called Jeeray !

गोठाला बाजे with his daura sleeves rolled up, made a soothing, whining sound as he moved a large wooden piston up and down a massive 'bhalu baasko ko dhungro'. He was churning milk. Soon there would be Dahi (curd) and yellowish Gheu (butter) of the purest of pure kind. We waited and slurped on the Mahi ( buttermilk ) served in big, dented aluminium mugs. We laughed as we pointed out the white moustaches on each other's upper lips. A favourite was the cooked Mahi, called SOLDAR.

JYAMBEERs were long oval lemons, which when cut, gave off a pungent aroma. { Citrus jambhiri } When squeezed over steaming basti ko chamal ko bhaat / dhaan ko bhaat, finishing off chuli chuli bhaat was no problem specially if there was the dark brown MASHYAAM KO DAL.

Not everyone could cope with the scent of the SIMRAYO. { Watercress, Nasturtium officinal } This verdant beauty adorned shallow stream waters. As a side dish it was a showpiece in the menu. We had fun with people when we whispered into their ears that we had seen a boy pissing in the stream (kholcha) from where the Simrayo he was eating had been picked !

NAKIMA { Tupestra nutans } was so much treasured that when a portion landed in the house, close appreciative people were invited for a meal. Its peculiar taste was adored by a wide fan club. KAABRA not frequently found, was sought as an achaar by a band of faithful followers.

In the spectrum of dry achaars SILAAM { Perilla frutescens } and FILINGAY take prominent place because of their unique essence. They have a secure berth in this nostalgic parade.

Coiled elephant trunks ? Yes ! As a child the NINGRO's shape fascinated me. These FERNS were of many types, and were collected with much difficulty from steep terrains.
It was only much later I started liking the fleshy fried vegetables.

SISNOO {STINGING NETTLE, Urtica dioica } was found around homes of unlucky boys who had big blebs, urticaria, on their shins as a punishment doled out by angry mothers. There was a big Jhyaang of this formidable plant, near our house. (Sorry, no confessions !). A chimta was needed to pluck this delicacy for making Tihoon.

One Participant who is perhaps extinct, is the PAHA, a slender, gangly, green frog. They were found in the waters of the rice fields (dhaan ko khet). When caught they were strung in bamboo strips ( choya ) like a garland. It was a choice tidbit valued by the 'bura paka' of old.

These flavours and tastes form a colourful part of our social and personal memories.

Here's hoping that this is not the draft of an epitaph of what once was in the hills.

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MY  TATTERED  SWEATER

-J S Simick, 22 April 2016

A playful kitten used to roll

with the ball of wool

when Mom knit my cardigan.

My boyish ego wanted “double knit”, or “readymade” jerseys,

so I sulked when I had to stand in front of her

as she measured my shoulder and arms.

Even now every winter my Mom’s handiwork

wraps me in warm, soft comfort.

The colour-matching patchups

have somewhat hidden the holes at the elbows.

I smile to see the patterns she had put to cheer me up.

So like my Mom !

She’s  gone some fifteen years now,

but in the tattered sweater

I still smell Mom.

Another  winter gone, I fold the sweater neatly.

How  could I throw my Mom away ?

My eyes turn misty.

Sentimental ?

I shrug.

Well  

that’s the way it is with me …

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RELLI   RIVER   VALLEY …

J S Simick

This valley breathes my past,

and I am not the last

of many sons

who sit like this

and feel the heart of fathers past.

This river knows it all,

has seen it all.

I just sit

I just fit

into what is mine.

And rain or shine

this river is mine,

this land is mine

and this rock here ,

suits me fine…

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Photo taken at Relli khola