SMALL TOWN RULES

THIS IS ALLAHABAD, WHERE YOU FOLLOW THE RULES OF ITS PEOPLE

- ANTARAA CHATTERJEE

WHEN THE SIGNAL TURNED orange, I slowed down on my Scooty, making the middle-aged man on the bike come to a startled stop next to me. More people started giving me looks when I halted. Two cars ran the red, and after a few bizarre seconds of shooting wary looks at me, most of the vehicles moved on. I was the only one standing at the red light. This was Allahabad in 2016. I was in college, and the first of the traffic signals had just started functioning. However, it still took a year, with threats of penalties and huge fines, and then some, to get more people to follow the traffic rules.

The last time I went home was in September of 2023. Baadi kobe aashbi? (When will you come home?) This phrase comes up in every conversation I have with my grandmother. Home is Allahabad, where the streetlights are often bigger than the roads, where people talk with a lilt, which is at the same time intimidating and oddly endearing. Where more "non-Bengalis" participate in the annual Durga Pujo than Bengalis and where you can never really get lost.

Oscillating between work and an independent life in a big city has somewhat distanced me from my roots. Or so my family thinks. "You've outgrown us," my aunt tells me. I feel like the city is agreeing with her, too. But maybe it's the other way around. The chasm of unfamiliarity seems to increase every time I visit now-a new flyover, trendy cafés, and better-functioning traffic signals.

Things you would think are essentials for any city are only now taking shape in my small but steadily gathering hometown.