deepan

One of the peculiar charms of Kolkata was its iconic yellow cabs, dotting the grey roads like specks of sunlight on a cloudy day. On my first day, I decided to visit the famous Prinsep Ghat, a place I had heard about for its beauty and tranquility. When I arrived, I found myself stepping into a space where love lingered in every corner. Couples, young and old, claimed their spots along the ghat, their whispers and laughter mingling with the soft rustle of the river.

There was something about the scene—the river's quiet flow, the timelessness of the colonial columns, and the lovers who sought refuge here. It felt as if love had found its sanctuary along the banks of the Hooghly. And in the distance, the yellow cabs moved along, ever-present, like silent witnesses to the ebb and flow of the city's stories.

As I stood there, observing the ghat, I couldn't help but notice how love and the yellow cabs seemed to echo one another—both symbols of connection in this city of contrasts. The cabs, with their faded yellows, carried people from one part of their lives to another, much like love does—moving you from one emotion, one experience, to the next. They were simple, reliable, and woven into the fabric of Kolkata, just as love, in all its forms, was woven into the everyday lives of those who walked these streets.

In that moment, it all seemed to blend together—love and yellow cabs, a silent yet enduring relationship, much like the city itself—constantly in motion, yet deeply rooted in its sense of belonging.