History | ইতিহাস

As Calcutta approaches its tricentury (1990), and urbanologists and forecasters quarrel over its future, nostalgia rules the day for a dedicated band of historians, researchers and simple Calcutta-lovers. Anthologies, histories, sketches and hitherto unknown facets of the city's chequered past are churned out with persistent regularity. The latest book on old Calcutta is mainly a reproduction of the writings of two famous 19th century British commentators who lived and worked in this city, and is profusely annotated and edited by an Indian expert.

It rained incessantly on Sunday, the 24th of August, 1690. The English ketch fought the monsoon swell in the unruly Hooghly and dropped anchor at an obscure village on the east bank of the river. Little did the band of muttering Englishmen realise the significance of the event when the Lancashireman, Job Charnock, Agent of the London East India Company, waded through the squishy silt and clambered onto higher ground. The place of landing is supposed to be Muhonto's Ghat near Nimtollah.

December, 1921. The Calcutta race course. Backers and bookmakers were screaming themselves hoarse as the thundering phalanx of horses drew closer to the post. The steward discreetly observed the Prince of Wales mopping his regal brow, as frenzied punters broke into hysterics. “Galway Gate’ streaked past the winning post — nose, neck, hood, head and all length.

Fifteen miles downstream from Calcutta on the left bank of the Hooghly, at a village called Achipur, stands a sparkling red tomb, with an uncommon shape and a little known tale. Its brightness can not fail to attract all and sundry who choose to glide along this lazy stretch of the river a few miles before it flows out to the sea. Its horse-shoe architecture with the two ends inclining downwards is supposedly characteristic of Chinese cemeteries. The waves of the river lap dangerously close to the tomb, and had it not been for the embankment built recently by some thoughtful Chinese gentleman, the tomb of the first Chinaman to set foot on the shores of Bengal, (or for that matter, India) would have been lost to the muddy Hooghly. The first Chinaman, in modern times, that is.