“THIS WON’T DO. Not in the slightest,” says Akhil Sarkar, my guide, with a sigh and a shake of his head. “Not only is it rude,” he adds, pointing at a deserted stoop in North Kolkata, “it’s totally against the nature of this city.” Elsewhere on the main drag, a gentleman gets his moustache trimmed, and shadowy alleys reveal decaying mansions, hidden courtyards and temples.
Sarkar, however, is preoccupied with the tainted stoop: a former site for adda, the Bengali custom of informal conversation, has now been guarded by its owner with uncomfortable looking, spike-like protrusions. “In Kolkata we value intellect over everything else,” he explains. “This is one of the few cities in India where the artist or the author is respected more than the businessman. Therefore, these adda…
