In this country, it is so easy to idealise the past and our agrarian roots. I grew up with this rhetoric, being a Bengali. Of the greatness of Tagore, of the days of the Bengali freedom struggle, of the days when the bhadralok learned English and became a barrister, but also wore the dhuti, ate … Continue reading Not another Kolkata ode.
A Benz looks great only on rainy nights Neon signs are not dead…in fact they make the only real landmarks No-one notices the cemeteries. It’s like they don’t exist It smells all the time, except when you are home. Even then it smells, but differently We need sanctuaries, but instead we build walls. And the … Continue reading Personal Notes From A Metropolis