Desmond was given a boat to sail up and down the river to sketch some of the beautiful houses that still stood there, These were stolen days - a phone call in the morning, a rush to Flurys and Skyroom for cakes and chicken patties and a charge to the river where we would embark on the boat like a motley United Nations of Tibetans, Nepalis, Americans and any other hangers on that were around that day. Bringing up the rear would be Mum and Desmond being rowed across to the lauch by one of the terrifying country boats that are the staple of Hooghly traffic.
Mum was terrified of water so the day would always start with shrieks as Desla rocked from side to side brringing the muddy water ever closer. Eventually she won the battle by turning up one day with bright red, children's water wings firmly fixed to her arms - she wore them for the rest of the day and, ever generous in defeat the water torment stopped.
I wish I could say we saw amamzing houses as we lazily motored up and down river but in reality it is all blur of green trees, gardens running down to the water's edge. We stopped at the French town of Chandenagore to find very little French atmoshphere saving the plethora of cafes that sat empty wating for long vanished boulevardiers to returne. Further up river was Bandel with its huge cathedral built in relief by the Portuguese after rescue from a shipwreck. As we came back we would stop at Dakiniswar and admire the new buildings.
Desmond seemingly had little in his sketch book but for the rest of us it would have been a golden day where we had watched the life of the river pass us by, watched the great orb of the sun dip slowly away into the water and been removed from all reality for a brief and magical moment.
The Hooghly is the artery of Calcutta, commercially and spiritually - to spend time upon it in a boat is to know its beauty and its charm and appreciate it fully.
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