At 75, our member Ms R. Biswas is active as ever. She is a journalist, writer and translator of fiction from the Assamese into English. She spoke to us about her first trip to Spain.


I have a deep love for travelling, and over the years I have visited many countries; some on personal trips—even solo ones—and some as an invitee, as part of the media fraternity. I have found every country to be unique, with its own culture and cuisine, and at times I have also discovered similarities between these far-flung places and practices back home in India.
One of my favourite places to visit has been Spain; I must have been there five or six times. I used to learn Spanish earlier, and now I keep up my practice on a foreign-language learning app. I first visited Spain in 1992 when, as a health journalist, I was invited to present a paper at a conference on HIV.
My connecting flight from Delhi to Barcelona was via London, which turned out to be extremely delayed. I landed in Barcelona at midnight, with nothing except my presentation papers and my travel documents. I knew only a handful of Spanish words back then, and communicating in English seemed nearly impossible, unlike today when English is far more widely used. Unable to locate the bus for conference delegates, I boarded a shuttle bus to the city centre.
The streets were full of revellers. The Spanish love to party late into the night, and are very warm and amenable, much like us Indians. I needed to get to the university where the conference was being held, and where the delegates were also being accommodated. I stood at a square, unable to find a taxi, until I finally managed to stop a passerby—a young girl—who kindly hailed a cab for me. I had a picture of the university with me and showed it to the driver, who said he would take me there.
When we reached the university, we discovered that the institution itself had shifted to another location almost 40 miles away. I was dejected, but the driver agreed to take me there. As we drove through deserted highways, I remember feeling vulnerable and thinking, “Someone could easily harm me here, and there would be nothing I could do.”
Finally, when we reached the university, it was almost 2 a.m. I thanked the driver for his kindness and tipped him generously. The campus was bustling with people because of the conference as I checked into my room. With a change of clothes unavailable, I ended up wearing the same outfit for two days until my bags arrived. I would wash my clothes at night and leave them to dry in the warm summer air of Barcelona.
All delegates were given free passes for public transport, and I travelled extensively within the city and to the seaside. After the conference, I went to Spain’s capital, Madrid, for leisure. I also visited Seville, enjoying the local food and interacting with people. My stay was full of discoveries and learning. For instance, I learnt that flamenco—a folk music and dance tradition of southern Spain—has roots in the Romani people, whose ancestors migrated from regions of northwest India such as Sindh and Rajasthan. I was fascinated by such connections and began to explore them further.
On my return to India, I penned several articles, including one in the local pages of The Times of India, in which I wrote fondly of my time in Spain. This caught the attention of Spanish authorities, who later funded two or three of my trips to the country to document its food and culture. I eventually turned my journals into a book titled Notes from a Spanish Diary. I enjoy writing travelogues—not merely descriptions of places, but reflections on my experiences on the streets, among the everyday lives and people of each destination.


(as narrated to Support Elders by our member)

Our member Ms A. Mukhopadhyay looks back on her student days at Presidency College and brings to life a College Street as it once was.


As a student, I spent some of my best days at Presidency College, under Calcutta University. Beyond the walls of the classroom, where the pressures of academia could not reach us, I experienced a sense of freedom hitherto unknown to me.
Next to the main gates stood two large reservoirs of water. We used to call them the tombs of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal. We would sit on top of them and spent hours chatting about everything under the sun.
But the moment you stepped out of the gate, you found yourself in fabled College Street, with its hallowed stores selling second-hand books. We would frequent Dasgupta and Co. and Chakraborty and Chatterjee, and the moment we walked in, our heads would bow in humility at the sight of the tomes. I remember greedily eyeing a copy of Gone with the Wind, wishing I could read it cover to cover. Then I won some prize money for excellence in my studies. I bought all my college books with that money and with what I had left over I got myself a copy of Margaret Mitchell’s novel. It still stands on my bookshelf today.
As today, there were eateries and cafés aplenty. We were spoilt for choice between Basanta Cabin, Favourite, Gyan Babu’s shop, and others. And how could we ignore the legendary sweet shops—Bhim Chandra Nag, Bhupati Charan Roy, Jayashree in Bowbazar? Naba Krishna Guin used to sell a pistachio-coloured sweet called Paradise, which was a delight.
College Street was synonymous with the iconic Indian Coffee House. Even in those days it used to be difficult to get a seat there. Inside, the air thick would be with cigarette smoke and replete with the voices of its patrons. Sometimes the odd student would break out into Rabindrasangeet. Our go-to order was a plate of 6 pakodas which was worth 30 paisa! As for myself, I preferred the coffee ice-cream, marked at 60 paisa.
Alongside students from Sanskrit College, we would weave in and out of these landmarks, enjoying the day’s bustle and energy. My favourite haunt was Sarat Book House which was owned by a friend of my Chhotomama. Today they sell academic books exclusively, but in those days they stocked all sorts of genres. I used to walk in and wish I would get a job in the store; I would be able to read books all day!
Once, my friends and I spotted superstar Soumitra Chatterjee making a telephone call in the store. He was an up-and-coming star then, but already a well-known face. We were stunned, as though struck by lightning. We stood right next to him and could not believe our luck. For the rest of the day, we could not discuss anything else.
Now that I look back on those days, I realise that, compared to school, we had very few classes in college. Much of our time was spent on the lawns and atop the “tombs” of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz, intently discussing literature and politics, sharpening our minds among the best from Presidency and Brabourne College. We were young and eager to meet the world on our own terms, and never once considered ourselves any less capable than those in Oxford or Cambridge.

(as narrated to Support Elders by our member)