Forget itineraries. Every city leaves its fingerprints on your plate, your shoes and your prejudices.
There was a time when an airport lounge spoke in whispers. Not literally, of course. Nobody walked around hushing fellow passengers. But there was an unspoken understanding that once you crossed those frosted glass doors, the airport remained outside. Boarding announcements became distant, conversations softened, chairs invited you to sink into them, newspapers still mattered…
I have a theory. Never judge a city by its skyline. Judge it by its breakfast buffet. Long before museums open, stock markets ring their bells or politicians begin lying for the day, a city quietly reveals its personality over breakfast. Architects build skylines. Governments build roads. Hotel managers, quite unintentionally, reveal the soul of…
I have always believed some cities are destinations. Others are moods. Kolkata is a mood. Every generation discovers Kolkata through a different storyteller. Mine discovered it through Amar Prem. Even today, when someone mentions Kolkata, I don’t think of Victoria Memorial or Park Street. I see Rajesh Khanna in a dhoti, his head resting in…
