Kolkata, or Calcutta as it was formerly known, in India is most commonly thought of in relation to Mother Teresa, and ergo, poverty. I went there for a long weekend while I was living in Bangladesh, and to me, the poverty wasn’t as apparent as it was in the city I was living in. I actually found Kolkata to be a little piece of paradise – I could easily order a beer, and have bacon for breakfast. If people didn’t speak English, I could use the Bangla I’d been learning to get around, winning favours along the way. My first taste of India wasn't one of being overwhelmed by the sights and sounds and smells as it is for many tourists, but one of comparison and a feeling of slight superiority that I wasn't so overwhelmed.
It was during a stroll on the first morning that my friend and I stumbled across this horse. While you can see a motorbike and a truck in the background, that doesn’t truly represent how busy this road was. Cities in India are busy, noisy, places. There are buses and trucks and motorbikes and autorickshaws, and in Kolkata, the fabulous old yellow Ambassador cabs. And there, amongst it all stood this horse - no reins, no rope, nothing to bind it to any one or any place – fast asleep.
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