Never do I feel the urge to give up this material world and take sanyas in the spiritual Himalayas more strongly than when I have to empty all cupboards and shelves in the house for painting or pest control or whatever. Read more

I keep a slim, light torch in my bag for emergencies. A hangover from my youth in power-less Calcutta where there used to be power cuts for anything between 12 and 18 hours a day. Read more

1. It’s still possible to get every possible thing from a geyser to an embroidery ring under one roof – New Market (not to mention every possible kind of food, shoe, flower, garment, home decor thingie, utility thingie, even unto black and red lace lingerie with fishnet stockings and garters if you’re so inclined). Read more

I’ve just finished a book called Calcutta Exile by Bunny Suraiya (you’ve met her often in Jug Suraiya’s columns). It’s about a family of Calcutta Anglo-Indians and is set 12 years after Independence, i.e. in 1959. Read more

Every year, when I go to Calcutta, I go through an almighty mental struggle.

Shall I or shall I not walk into Ye Olde Schoole and demand to read all the books in the library that I hadn’t managed to read in the 15 years I spent at that institution from Lower Nursery to Class XII? Read more

Is it just me, or do other people, when they go back on visits to the place that was home for most of their lives, find it difficult to see that place in any other shade than the sepia of nostalgia? Read more

That was what I thought as I trundled down the highway in an auto, headed home late-ish on Sunday night after three days of doing absolutely nothing but reading and having a massage or two in beautiful, lush green Kerala. (It is SERIOUSLY a site for sore eyes, why on earth have I never been there before?) Read more