I knew Kolkata, when it was still Calcutta, or at least the parts that mattered most, reasonably well — though that was ages ago. Intermittent work trips over the decades made no allowance for nostalgia. No jaunts to New Market, pre- or post the fire, or to Nahoum for plum cake and stick-jaws; no scrounging for second-hand books on Free School Street, or seeking out antiques at the Russell Exchange; no trying on handcrafted shoes at the Chinese shoe shops on Park Street; no guilty pleasures in a “family room” in a Chinese dive with a girlfriend.
Recent trips have
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