Calcutta Bungalow: A Love Letter to the City

We are chatting with Iftekar Ahsan on the balcony of the restored house of the Mazumdar family on Radha Kanta Jew street in Fariapukur, Shyambazar. Like a typical weekday evening in the alleys of North Calcutta, there’s not much going on. Few elderly people are out for a stroll; maids, the day’s work over, head to the bus stop; office-goers slowly pedal their bicycles home. Besides a motorcycle that rattles the silence with an ear-piercing horn, it is comfortably quiet. Across the street from the Calcutta Bungalow, a grand red house with green trims is up for sale. We are debating its future when a woman, head crowned with a shock of bright white hair, beckons at Ifte and asks him to come down. This hour on the cusp of twilight is languid, all plush with tropical humidity and riverine breeze, and soon the city will congregate over cha and telebhaja.

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Imagine walking past a green ambassador parked in a nondescript alley and into a newly painted house with Corinthian columns and being transported to the golden age of Calcutta. Cross the threshold of the Calcutta Bungalow and you walk into another era. Exposed brick walls, stone floors, vintage chandeliers, iron latticework, bakelite switches…every detail is reminiscent of a past when the alleys of North Calcutta were choc-a-bloc with townhouses built in a unique blend of European and Bengali styles. When Ifte and his team bought the Mazumdar’s house, it was in shambles. After years of painstaking restoration work headed by restoration architect Akhil Ranjan Sarkar and scenographer Swarup Dutta, today the house is a work of art. The six bedrooms have been named after North Calcutta’s neighbourhoods, paras, and the décor done accordingly.

Also read: Wondering how Shyambazar got its name? Find out in Etymology of Names of Calcutta’s Neighbourhoods.

“There’s only one bedroom on the ground floor,” says Anirban, one of the explorers at Calcutta Walks, as he opens the door to Patuapara. Named after the neighbourhood of the pata painters, the walls inside the room are decorated with pat paintings. The rest of the bedrooms are located on the first and second floors. There is Dorjipara, the quarter of the tailors, decorated with sewing machines; Mochipara, the quarter of the cobblers, on the shelves of which anvils double up as bookends; Jatrapara, the quarter of folk theatre artists, with walls adorned with jatra posters and shelves stacked with jatra scripts; Boipara, Calcutta’s famous College Street, has shelves full of used books (we found some rare prints of Bengali pulp here); and Sahibpara, the para of white Europeans, which boasts an en suite bathroom with a majestic copper bathtub. “The black and gold bakelite switches have been sourced from Kapurthala in Punjab,” says Anirban. To match the colour of the exposed brick walls, they have repainted the air-conditioning units at the risk of nullifying the warranty. “Recreating the interiors of a 1920s Calcutta townhouse was tough,” says Iftekar, “because there is not much literature to be found.” Blueprints are scarce and any documentation of interior design from that period is almost impossible to find. Written word and oral history have been his primary tools. Like most urban nostalgists who are trying to preserve the city’s architectural inheritance, Iftekar and his team visited old houses across the city, spoke to homeowners, historians, and restoration architects. It was a long process; four years passed by before they could welcome the first guests at Calcutta Bungalow.

Housed at one end of the reception is a curio shop featuring unique souvenirs and collectibles from Calcutta. Vintage typewriters, patachitra, chong-lights, and an antique wood cabinet adorn the room where you can buy rickshaw trinkets crafted in the Roy family workshop of Masjid Bari Lane, jatra scripts, and key chains. The courtyard, the uthon, is divided into two— back in the 1920s, they functioned as the andarmahal and bahirmahal— and two flights of stairs with beautiful ironwork banisters lead to the upper floors. A collage of reclaimed iron latticework has been turned into a window on the landing. Candy-floss twilight seeps through it as we climb upstairs. On the roof, two wicker lounge chaises occupy pride of place. Frangipani trees in voluptuous terracotta pots adorn the corners. There are plans to open a rooftop café but for now, the founders are concentrating on offering a memorable experience to guests.

Also read: Explore Shyambazar with our Shyambazar Neighbourhood Guide.

On one of the walls in the corner of the courtyard, are copper plaques with names of secret societies that functioned in 19^th and 20^th century Calcutta. Most of them, like the Bhattacharya Society, are now defunct but some like the National Association for Parents of Sleepless Children are still a part of the city’s fabric. On the first-floor landing is a cosy nook with a sofa and a wall decorated with mirrors and antique circular ceramic fixtures. Adda nooks are everywhere in the Calcutta Bungalow. “We want travellers to interact with each other. The goal is to create a convivial atmosphere where guests share stories,” says Anirban. The reception is called the Baithak-khana— the stools at the desk have an industrial feel—and on the ground floor is another room called the Addakhana, in which stacks of vintage post office lockers are upcycled into a TV stand. “Come, spend some time here. Who doesn’t like a good adda?” says Anirban and we can’t agree more.

Also read: Kolkata is a haven for foodies. Read Kolkata for Foodies: 15+ Things to Do in the City for sneak peek into the many things to do.

When in the Calcutta Bungalow, look past the iron latticework on the balconies, the colonial arches in the courtyard, the exposed brick walls, the windows with the khorkhoris, at the floors. In one of the rooms, the stone floor is an enticing sea green. In another, it is a collage of old marble plaques featuring 16th-century calligraphy. When someone died, family members donated a sum of money to temples to buy a part of the temple floor where they could place a marble plaque with the name of the deceased. The plaques that were never claimed ended up in the Calcutta Bungalow from shops around the city.

Everything in the Calcutta Bungalow, from the statuesque dining table to the kantha-embroidered quilts, has been restored or repurposed. Discarded chongs, or loudspeakers, symbols of the city’s revolutionary culture, have been repurposed as pendant lights. Most of the bric-à-bracs come from flea markets and collectors. The vintage typewriters, cabinets, shelves, tables, chandeliers, and lighting fixtures have been sourced from homes and resellers around the city. Iftekar delights in the fact that in this city, you can still get a 20^th-century artefact lovingly restored in a workshop around the corner. That’s how they got the charming lunettes and much of the ironwork repaired, at the neighbourhood blacksmith’s.  

In a city where 19^th and 20^th-century townhouses can be found in almost every neighbourhood, choosing one was tough. Iftekar and his business partner, Chris Chen, looked at numerous such houses before zeroing in on this one. While the Mazumdar’s were willing to sell their half, the owners of the other half were reluctant and though having the whole house would have been great, Iftekar says it has been a boon in disguise. “Because only half the house was for sale, promoters weren’t desperate to tear it down to make space for yet another ugly apartment. Besides, I didn’t want to bite more than I can chew,” he says.

Also read: Venture out to College Street for books and food. Use our College Street food guide to lead the way!

The house, though structurally sound, came with its own set of problems, the major one being bathrooms. It took a lot of work to carve out bathrooms for all six suites! To preserve the real look of the old house, they hired a mason from Murshidabad. The chun-surki work on the walls is commendable. From the before-after photos on Anirban’s computer, we can tell that the transformation has been dramatic. Phenomenal, almost. What used to be a crumbling house with plants popping out from the walls and rooms full of discarded furniture is today a stylish BnB in a sleepy neighbourhood. What do you need for a transformation of this scale? Money, of course, but more than that, you need an undying love for the city and an eye for details. “What’s next for Calcutta Bungalow?” we ask. “We want to use this space for events that will bring city lovers together; a place for adda. I am planning a Persian calligraphy workshop soon,” says Iftekar.  

Later, over cha and telebhaja, Anirban rues the fate of built heritage in this city. “In Europe, you can’t take down a heritage building. I had drinks in a pub that was located in a structure dating back to the 15^th century. Here, neither the state nor the people care.” A few months ago, the government of West Bengal degraded the status of the heritage building that houses the Kenilworth Hotel to make space for luxury apartments. Every day, many beautiful buildings die neglected in this city and many more would have been lost to history were it not for people like Iftekar and Anirban. Unlike many, we still have hope for this city. It is our muse; a sanctuary we return to, and one day the world will wake up to find the Calcutta that was lost in the chaos of partition; a resurrected Calcutta, the city of joy.

Calcutta Bungalow

5, Radha Kanta Jew St, Fariapukur, Shyam Bazar, Kolkata, West Bengal 700004

They offer a complimentary hour-long walk of the neighbourhood with Calcutta Walks. Bicycles are available for guests. Breakfast is served in Natunbazar, the dining hall. Lunch and dinner are not included in the tariff but you can order a full-course Bengali meal.