Kalidaha, or Kalindi, emerged on the marshy fringes of Patipukur in the late 1970s with a unique character as a planned neighbourhood featuring a standardised flat, grid-based layout and a homogeneous environment. Primarily intended to accommodate the middle-class Bengali population moving into Kolkata — already heavily congested with the post-partition influx of displaced people — Kalindi gradually developed as an example of vernacular urbanism. Even before homeowners could move in, the flats of Kalindi were opened to people displaced by the massive floods of 1978. For months, they stayed in these flats until the water receded. “When we moved into the flat, the floors bore burn marks from cooking by those who took shelter here. It was not a delightful sight, but we were happy that the flat helped people desperately seeking shelter in that disaster,” said Subhadip Roy, an employee with a private bank in Kolkata. “Inside the 800-plus flats at Kalindi, many first-generation residents were clerks, govt employees, small traders, schoolteachers, and refugees who gained a foothold in the urban economy,” said Sounita Mukherjee, PhD researcher and teaching assistant with the University of California, Davis. Families started moving into the flats of Kalindi from Nov 1978. Abhro Ghosh, former political science professor at the Presidency College, moved into Kalindi by Dec 1978. “There were a handful of families in the neighbourhood. The plot area of Kalindi was not occupied till then, and we had a straight approach to Jessore Road. Bitumen layers were laid on the road connecting the housing area with Jessore Road much later. Streets were largely dark at night. We had to carry torches while going out in the evening,” he said. In a quarterly bulletin, ‘Prabaha’ — one of the oldest publications of Kalindi residents — Ghosh recounted how the newly built housing society struggled to establish its identity. “In those days, bus commuters had to get down either at Lake Town or Tetultala, and walk to the housing. We had to argue with the bus conductors who seemed to not know about Kalindi’s existence. It took nearly two more years for the Kalindi bus stop to come up,” he said.According to Sounita Mukherjee, Kalindi Housing articulates “a different aesthetic and spatial logic — that of planned modernity as envisioned by the postcolonial welfare state”. In an article she wrote, “Constructed in the 1970s by the West Bengal Housing Board, the estate occupies more than 12 acres of wetland, methodically carved into uniform blocks, landscaped plots, and metalled roads. Today, Kalindi embodies a layered urban morphology — where a row of one-storey refugee homes abuts private builder flats, and local bazaars remain vital alongside app-based delivery economies.” In the next one-and-a-half decades, Kalindi went through rapid transformations. “One-storey houses started to be built in the plot area. The first Durga Puja was organised in the early 1980s, and that was a landmark moment for Kalindi residents. The first evening market at Kalindi started functioning from 1983. Until then, we had to walk for more than a kilometre to buy vegetables or groceries,” said Narayan Chandra Pal, a resident and an active member of Kalindi Bahumukhi Janakalyan Samiti. The Samiti was set up in 1988, initially to cater to the demand for ambulances and medicines for the locals. With the expansion of the VIP Road and proximity to the airport, Kalindi, home to more than 5,000 residents, started feeling the pressure of “vertical expansion” and gentrification along with it. According to Barun Deb Ghosh, a resident, the younger generation moved out of the area. “First settlers still occupy most of the flats. You can often spot a group of elderly people chatting on a bench or reading newspapers in the courtyards. We still have a library, and residents hold blood donation camps and eye check-up camps. We planned to set up a community hall, too. Unfortunately, that didn’t materialise,” he said. Kalindi Bratyajon, a theatre group formed by state education minister and a resident Bratya Basu, started to operate from its Kalindi Housing Estate office in 2012. “This has helped Kalindi find yet another identity. Over the years, it got intricately involved with a new cultural identity of Kalindi,” said Pampa Deb of Kalindi Brtayajon. Poet Hindol Bhattacharjee, who grew up in Kalindi, rued how real-estate development gradually crowded the skyline dotted with large trees. “Multi-storeyed buildings started to thrive near Jessore Road. In 2002-03, Kalindi Vatika was developed over four acres. The demography started to change, and Kalindi’s culture was influenced by a multi-ethnic, heterogeneous population. Trees were chopped down, and the green cover started withering away,” Bhattacharjee said. However, in 2019, residents joined hands to form a group called “Gachher Dol” (group of trees), which focused on restoring the green cover of Kalindi, planting trees, and replantation or transplantation of trees. Nandini Roy, a homemaker and one of the founder members of the group, said, “This has helped restore the micro-biodiversity we had. Birds and butterflies have started coming back to the area. We are also focused on the preservation of soil. Kalindi, which was decaying, has started getting a fresh lease of life,” she said.
