I had such a clear picture in my mind. I thought I knew what the people would be like, how the streets, buildings and parks would look — even how the city would smell. And yet, I had never set foot in Kolkata, never consciously read anything about it, never heard stories or experiences from friends or family.
Later on my trip, I learned about the Catholic Church’s involvement in Kolkata and its somewhat random cameos in German pop culture. Only then did I realise how these scattered snippets had planted a fixed story in my head — a story written not by the people of Kolkata, but by outsiders. And it wasn’t a positive one. This post-colonial framing isn’t unique to Kolkata, of course, but I’ve never felt the gap between imagination and reality as sharply as I did here.
And that made the actual experience of arriving in the city all the more surprising. Kolkata felt friendly and open right from the start — even strangely familiar. Its colonial past and its scale, which is closer to European cities, surely play a role in that. It can still be noisy and exhausting, of course, but it feels far more manageable than places like Delhi or Jaipur. And with its walkable layout, India’s only tram system and a convenient metro, I’m starting to wonder whether Kolkata might actually be the easiest entry point for someone visiting India for the first time.
As with all my stories on this blog, my view of Kolkata is a highly subjective one. I’m naturally drawn to the parts of a city that contrast most with what I’m used to at home, so certain aspects are definitely overrepresented in my photos. This was only amplified by the fact that I spent just seven days mostly wandering around the central neighbourhoods — which, in a city of nearly five million people, means I only caught a small glimpse of what it truly has to offer.