Calcutta, in the good old days, was a melting pot of many small communities. As I realised in my later years, it was an enrichment beyond words that made me at home anywhere. I remember my Chinese friends with dark eyes and straight braids without even a hint of a wave, and their flower-like grace, exuding good humour and bonhomie. Most of them were excellent in maths, outstripping the rest of us, and good with language skills. They visited our homes and enjoyed with obvious relish the variety of Indian dishes, especially my mother’s crisp dosas and pesarattu.

Source: The Hindu March 15, 2026 05:17 UTC