Story of the bumbling bee

After a seven-year-long corporate stint, I felt the need to move closer to my heart. To a place called home. Kolkata. And there I was… back to those familiar lanes. To ramshackle ‘Mishtanna Bhandars’ (sweet shops), and endless walks down roads that smelt of beguni or egg rolls, chowmien and biryani. To classic movies, bazaars, craftspeople. To the smell of old books and sun shine on well preserved sharis. To sifting through Dida’s almari that smelt of napthalene. A smell that only equates to memories tinged in sepia. That’s when Bhomra fluttered its wings.