Saheb Kuthi - Canning House (The Zamindar Bari series -1)

Every morning at 6 am, Basanti gets down from the local train at Baghajatin railway station, Kolkata and walks to her destination. She is a house-help and the train line from Canning has been a boon to her. 

Whenever our paths cross, I ask her, “Which train did you take today?” Pat comes her reply, “Didi, the 4.30 am Canning local.” 

The word Canning intrigued me till I sat her down one day and asked her in details. “An old town, Didi. On the banks of Matla Nodi (river). I hail from there. You can visit the city and see the Saheb Kuthi.” 

That was enough to incite the wanderlust in me. I kept looking for a window to visit Canning till one Sunday morning, the constant yearning for something old and historic took us past Baruipur in South 24 Parganas, West Bengal to the oft-heard city called Canning. It is the headquarters of the Canning subdivision. 

THE RUINS

Cruising through the narrow roads of South 24 Parganas, we came across the relics of two massive pillars. From afar, the remains of the brick structure made us conclude that at one point of time it was part of a grand building. We were right! We soon found the ruins of the dilapidated structure. 

Three arches stood supporting a portico which in turn was connected to the main building. The building comprises a series of arches, which act as a façade to the rooms behind it. Obscured by thickets, I observed how the nesting birds and the thick greenery have found their permanent abode there. While the humans abandoned it, nature decided to flourish there. Over the years, despite the neglect and indifference, the house has stood solid, testing the passage of time. 

THE SERIES OF ARCHES

 As I stood outside ‘Saheb Kuthi’, trying to visualize how it had been, a frail thin hand snaked out through one of the windows and drew down the tattered curtain. Did I see it, right? A hand? A ghost? In broad daylight? I gripped the camera tightly and decided to walk in. There was nothing, but darkness behind the window. It was impossible to make out anything. My mistake. Or maybe my imagination was playing up. I peeped in through a crack in the door. There, in the hall, a light glowed. And then I saw her. A frail elderly woman stooped with age. She opened the door. Clad in a white sari, her eyes shone with hatred and despise. I managed a soft hello. She swished her stick to ward me off. Folding my hands, I retreated. 

NATURE FLOURISHES

Who would dare to live in such misery? Thick bushes everywhere prevented the sunlight from entering the Kuthi. Cracked doors and windows. I shuddered to think of snakes and other poisonous insects as co-residents. The Kuthi was not haunted. It was definitely not abandoned. 

THE BROKEN DOOR AND THE DIM LIGHT

 Armed with new-found knowledge, I decided to visit the tea shop in the vicinity. The house is known as ‘Shaheb Kuthi’, the house of the Saheb. It was built and also named after Lord Canning, the Governor-General of India. After the 1857 rebellion was crushed, power was transferred from the East India Company to the Crown of Queen Victoria. In 1858 Lord Canning became the first Viceroy of India. He is known for setting up three Universities in India, the University of Calcutta, the University of Madras and the University of Bombay. He also passed the Hindu Widows' Remarriage Act, 1856. 

So, Canning is not just a city but a historical town with a rich past. 

HERITAGE?

It was Lord Canning who founded the idea of developing Port Canning as an alternative to Kolkata. At the junction of Bidyadhori and Matla, was born a port and town, both named after the Lord himself. The port began operations in 1861. But no one paid heed to the warnings issued by Henry Piddington, an officer with the British administration having a vast knowledge of hurricanes and storms. His studies revealed that in 1789, 20,000 residents had been washed away by a cyclone. A repeat of the same fury was possible, he reiterated. In fact, he repeatedly warned that the tidal forests should be left intact as they act as a protective barrier against any major storms and waves. Piddington died in 1858 and with him, the threat of cyclones was forgotten. 

 In 1865, a ship carrying labourers sunk off the Hamilton island near Canning. In 1867, a cyclone raged across the South 24 Parganas. The eye passed over the port reducing it to almost nothing. Many lives were lost. Properties were destroyed. Cattle and livestock were washed away. All the wells were filled with seawater. But the port once again limped back to its operation. Soon, inadequate water supply led to the choking of Matla river. But navigation issues and high tidal waves made it increasingly difficult. The decision was finally taken to cease operations. The company running the port was liquidated. Saheb Kuthi was bought by its caretaker. 

 Today Canning serves as a gateway to the tidal forests, popularly known as Sundarbans. The tidal forest has once again saved the residents from a major disaster. Last year in May 2020, Cyclone Amphan hit the belt causing huge devastation. But the forests stood in its way, fighting off the fury and bearing the brunt of it. 

DEFINITELY NOT HAUNTED.

Saheb Kuthi was badly damaged by the cyclone. The caretaker’s daughter-in-law resides there, despite the repeated warnings of a possible collapse. The Kuthi was declared as a heritage property by the West Bengal Heritage Commission in 2018. But no work has been undertaken to restore its lost glory. The tea stall owner informed me that its worth a few crores. “Who has that kind of money? The residents had offered it to the hoteliers. But on one condition. The external structure would remain intact. No one had agreed. Now we are just waiting for it to collapse and the land sharks to close in. It’s a tragedy. A huge loss.” I agreed. It’s a tragedy that the beautiful monument would crumble into oblivion someday. Maybe we are the last generation to witness and imagine its grandeur. 

RAVAGED BY AMPHAN

It’s also worth mentioning that the famous sweet of Bengal, Ledikeni owes its name to Lady Canning, the first Vicereine and an artist. The story goes that the famous sweetmaker Bhim Chandra Nag prepared a special sweet in honur of Lady Canning’s visit. Another story says that it was prepared to welcome the Viceroy and the Vicereine after their arrival post the mutiny. She loved the sweet and would often demand it to be made. Lady Canning died in 1861 and lies buried in Barrackpore, West Bengal. Today while the lady lies in oblivion, Ledikeni rules the heart of many.

BIDDING ADIEU