The House Where I was Born

“I remember, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn...”

Wherever life takes you, a magnetic pull always exists, drawing you back to the familiar embrace of your hometown. For me, that haven is a small, enchanting town named Kulti. Originally a quaint village, it blossomed into a township around the IISCO plant, boasting a century of historical achievements.

The roots of the plant run deep, witnessing India's industrial milestones. The first blast furnace roared to life in 1870, and steel was born here in 1904. The centrifugal casting process gave birth to spun pipes in 1945. Figures like James Erskine, Sir Acquin Martin, and Sir Rajendranath Mookherjee once steered the helm of this industrial giant.

As I stroll down memory lane, the echoes of British influence resonate through the architecture, especially the majestic bungalows from that era. The Golf Ground, where every evening turned into a playground of joy, and the tree-lined streets, where my father and I would amble, complete the canvas of my childhood.

Kulti Club

Kulti, to me, was a dreamlike sanctuary. Fields, parks, and shaded lanes felt like excerpts from a fairy tale. Sunday afternoons were devoted to my favorite pastime — reading under the comforting branches of a laburnum tree near my home.

Golf Ground

Vacations were a magical escape. No textbooks, just an immersion in handicrafts, music, and badminton with sisters and friends. While my father's schedule limited our travels, our garden became my universe. Behind our home, cornfields whispered tales, leading to small hills that beckoned like a distant chorus.

I would spend hours gazing at those hills, enchanted by the dance of peacocks at their foothills, as the wind whispered through the trees and the sun painted a soft winter glow.

My love for mountains germinated from those distant hills. In my garden, lilies and cacti thrived alongside money plants forming a lush arch. A pair of tailor birds made it their home, a nightly retreat after a day's song.

Amidst this, the discipline of daily riyaz, singing accompanied by the harmonium, became a ritual. In Bengal, cultural and extracurricular pursuits are as integral as academics. A rich tapestry of art, culture, travel, and delectable food defines Bengali ethos, a heritage instilled from birth.

Being a non-vegetarian, I relished the culinary symphonies orchestrated by my mother. Magur Mach, prawns, and chicken dishes were a culinary journey with each dish offering something new.

Kulti Stadium

The magic of English literature enchanted me, transforming me into a bookworm from childhood. Fairytales like Cinderella and Snow White transported me to realms of fantasy.

Durga Puja was an annual spectacle awaited with bated breath. Pandals adorned the town, but the Central Puja held a special place. Mornings were spent attending puja with grandma, while evenings unfolded at the fair with dad – riding the giant wheel, savoring golgappas, and wandering through the magic shows and circuses.

Thus, my upbringing unfolded amidst the bounty of nature and a rich cultural tapestry. It is this tapestry that continues to propel me forward, a nostalgic yearning for the roots that shaped my identity.

Kulti Station