Suddenly one day a woman arrived at the house, all alone and since then a hush fell in the family.

My mornings started at Kolkata with a singing saint of Bengal belting out a devotional number in his coarse, lilting voice.

Despite being oiled and combed well the hairs stood like coiled ropes on his head in disobedience, as if in testimony to the name he earned.

Even when we reflected upon his behavior during those days, we didn't find it to be a bit formal or faked owing to differences in religion.

After each performance the coordinator of the band would hold the donation notes like trophies and announce the names of the persons.

What amazed me was the nonchalance with which he approached the pandal-hoppers into having a peek at his magazine, shedding all inhibitions.

The lady was believed to possess special powers once she sat and chatted with her deity, a blue coloured idol in stone.

Amongst the many remembrances of the Durga puja festival in Kharagpur, perhaps the dearest of them was of the ‘Durga Mandir'.

What if I take the train one day out of impulse for a place I've left long ago for good, yet am not able to ignore its beckoning ?