Calcutta, always.
The last time I saw my grandmother was a year and a half ago. I’ve been feeling the guilt for a while now. My baby nieces are growing by the day. Mamata Banerjee has changed almost all the names of the metro stations to utter ridiculousness. Winters are also the season for rasgullas made of jaggery. The closest cousin is going through awful times and I feel terrible for not … Continue reading “Calcutta, always.” →