I'm a typical Bengali girl from Kolkata and god I hate Delhi

I was born in Kolkata, but was brought up in Delhi. Although, I have spent 25 years of my life dealing with the National Capital Of India, I am still not head over heels in love with Delhi.

Why, you ask? Well, for one simple reason--Delhi is not Kolkata. There is a different charm to the city of joy. Be it the delicious street food, or the bhadromahilas, or the smell of Ganga in the air (sometimes it's the smell of fish too), there's something endearing about the city.

For a typical Bengali woman, like myself, who breathes, eats, and lives for anything remotely related to Kolkata, Delhi is like a foreign territory. I will never forget how my classmates used to incessantly tease me by saying Bangali kaala jaadu karte hai.

Kolkata is love, Kolkata is life. And regular visits to the land of Rabindra Nath Tagore could not help ease the longing that I felt (and still feel) for it.

If you are stuck in Delhi, just like I am, or are a khati Bangali, you'll definitely relate to the reasons why Delhi just sucks.

No One Gets The Tagore References
Forget humming Rabindro Sangeet, Delhi doesn't even understand basic references to the great poet. The references so basic that even a 6-year-old Bengali kid would get.

Just try talking about Tagore's Kabuliwala and you'll see. The only thing people will remember is that they once read it in school. And don't even get me started on Satyajit Ray. *silently sobbing*

I'm A Phuchka Fanatic--Keep Your Golgappa Laden Hands Off Me
If I hear someone tell me one more time how awesome golgappas are, I'll probably lose it. Once you have tasted the tamarind goodness of phuchka, you're done for life.

It has the right amount of spice (because the aaloo mash inside is actually laden with chilly and everything nice) and the right amount of tanginess. Bengalis actually put in a lot of effort before giving you that tamarind water-filled delicious ball.

So, no. Your Bittoo Tikki Walas, Nathus, and Haldirams can kiss my angry Bengali a**.

Why Are There No Bandhs in Delhi?
If you have ever lived in Kolkata then you'd know that bandhs are like quarterly festivals in the city. Kolkata shuts down after every three to four months, giving people a much needed break.

And let me tell you a secret--Bengalis plan bandhs in such a way that it would fall right before a weekend or after it, giving everyone a nice long holiday. How smart is that?

So, all I ever wished for in my life here in Delhi was a similar bandh. And you all know that it never happened.

Also read: 5 things I get to hear when I tell people that I am a Muslim and a vegetarian

CR Park Is Anything But A Mini-Kolkata
You know what Bengalis living in CR Park are called? Punjabinised Bengalis. That's right. We actually look down upon them--because CR Park is nothing like Kolkata. Yes, it may have all the food to satiate your cravings, but it still seems very superficial.

Even during Durga Pujo, the place stays the same. The pandals are not as artistic, the prices are always skyrocketing, and the aunties are not like those in Kolkata. *sigh*

There's No Concept Of Adda Or Afternoon Siesta
Apart from food and cricket, there are two things that every Bengali loves--adda (the Bengali version of gossiping with a cup of tea) and afternoon siesta.
Be it gossiping at the magnificent Coffee House or at someone's house, adda is a basic necessity.

And don't you dare ask a Bengali to work after lunch, you'll be given the death stare. Sleeping after a hearty meal of maach-bhat is what every Bengali looks forward to. Even those who go to work. It's the basic rule!

Nobody Welcomes You To Their House With A Plate Of Sandesh
Delhi has no idea what a sandesh actually looks like, let alone its taste. And if you even try to compare it with that sorry thing called barfi, you'll probably regret it for the rest of your life!

So whenever I am dragged to someone's place here in Delhi, all I dream about is a plate of sandesh waiting just for me. But unfortunately, that never happens.

You Can't Ever Replace The Sea Of Cars With The Serenity Of Ganga
While the whole Delhi gets stuck in the cacophony of horns and the sea of cars, I miss sitting on the banks of Hooghly river, watching the sunset. There's nothing more joyous than taking the ferry in the evening, while the river rocks you like a cradle. 

My heart cries for Kolkata every single day. I was born there, I love that sweet language, and the people, who are so hospitable that it will annoy you. But here I am, stuck in this city that thinks Bengali just means ami tomake bhalobashi. Oh god!