Well fed in Kolkata, my city of love.

Homecoming?

I went to Kolkata in November, thirteen months since I had last been there. I had not met Didu, my granny, or my mum since then, and the plan was to meet them. I have a complicated relationship with Kolkata. I was not born there. We moved in when I was 7 years old, and I moved out to Mumbai after I finished my MBA twenty-seven years ago. I consider Mumbai to be home now. I like going back to Kolkata but for short trips. Writer Simon Majumdar compared his relationship with Kolkata to that with an ex. I describe mine as that with a grandma, possibly because I usually go there to visit mine. I might have moved out, but Kolkata continues to love me. My friends in the city spoil me and make us feel special and much loved when there. You could call me the archetypal prodigal son.

My mother had been staying with my brother in Gurgaon since February and was scheduled to return to Kolkata in November. She was worried about navigating the airport after landing, crossing the road to get the cab, etc. She has travelled the route alone often but is 76 now and less confident than before. I coordinated our flights so that we would reach Kolkata airport at the same time, and I could take her home from there. This was a good plan, but for the fact that I could not connect to the mobile network once I landed. I could not connect to the airport wifi either, as I could not access my SMS for the OTP to log in. I had landed before my mum. There was no way that I could let K and my brother know that I had arrived. Things were simpler back in the day when there would be STD payphones to call from. How would I book an Uber for us after I located Mum? And how would you connect to start with?

I sat in a chair beside the baggage carousel where the luggage from the Delhi flight was supposed to arrive. I fiddled with my phone and suddenly got connected—don’t ask me how. A short while later, Mom landed and came out in a wheelchair. She got off once she saw me. The lady pushing the wheelchair said she could have taken my mum to the cab stand if necessary. This would have been helpful on trips where she had to go home alone from the airport.

Mom and I headed back in a new, clean Uber, whose driver was friendly and helpful. This was different from the ‘authentic Kolkata’ decrepit Uber and surly driver experience one is used to. I am amused to see people lament the disappearance of yellow Ambi cabs. Those were even worse in terms of ramshackle cars and drivers who refused to go by the metre or even ‘go’.

Our apartment had been empty for ten months. Mom had coordinated things with her house help, the senior-most watchman who had been there since we had moved into the apartment complex in ’84, and the society manager. She is far more organised than me. Plus, she had got it painted before she left. My younger brother coordinated a lot of that. The apartment looked nice and fresh when we reached.

I feel fed with a little help from my friends.

I called my friend Manzilat Fatima once we got into the cab. Manzilat runs Manzilat’s Kitchen, a quasi Awadhi restaurant. Her call to fame is that she is a descendant of Nawab Ali Shah. I love her cooking, and she is like family to us. “Mannzie, I have just landed in Kolkata and am heading home,” I said without a preamble. “Please send me lunch,” and lo and behold, her fabulous mutton biryani and chicken chaap reached home 5 minutes after we arrived. This is what I meant when I said that our friends in the city have our back. I did not even think twice before calling her. She would have been upset if I had. I treasure this.

After lunch, I headed to my hotel, Hyatt Centric, a new hotel in Ballygunge. Its location was great, as most of my travels were around south Kolkata. The room was small but cheerful and bright—perfect for a business trip. This trip turned out to be hectic, but I think I have never had a Kolkata trip, which is not one, so I prefer to stay in hotels. They are more convenient and restful.

I wanted to visit Popo’s, the new Tibetan restaurant opened by our friends Doma Wang, her daughter ‘Puchu’ Sachiko Wang and Manisha Sangma. Our friends, Kaniska and Manishita, picked me up in the evening and took me to Popo’s, where the three ladies spoilt us with great hospitality and food. Thakali, Doma and  Sachiko have been featured in India’s leading restaurant and chef lists, and that’s made us all very proud—Popo’s, which aims to showcase the fast-disappearing Tibetan culinary heritage to the world. The name is a hat tip to Doma’s dad, Sachiko’s grandpa, to whom they owe their love for food. I had some lovely pork and mutton momos, including those with buckwheat skins, spring rolls with single-batch home-cured yak meat that Manisha sources from Meghalaya, bacon and prawn noodles, etc., but there is so much more to try.

Nashta Kolkata. The Kolkata breakfast series.

Sristi, the videographer I work with, was in Kolkata and we decided to shoot an Instagram series on Kolkata breakfasts together. I depended on tips from my friends Kaniska and Rukshana on where to go. Kaniska took me to the East Bengal Club tent to try out the famous chicken stew of Kolkata’s football club grounds. Our chef friend, Surajit Rout, runs the place, and Kaniska organised the meet. Going to the East Bengal Club was special as I was a supporter of the team when I was a kid.

Kaniska suggested that I go to Camac Street to shoot dim pauruti, the roadside savoury French toast of Calcutta. I did so, reliving childhood memories of my mum taking me to similar stalls. I created some new memories thanks to him too. This is when he took us to a new cafe called Pico. I was really impressed by the coffee there. You were asked for your choice of blends even for cappuccinos and macchiatos. I’ve not seen this happen anywhere else in the world.

We filmed in Maharani and featured kochuri, alu, jilip and cha.  We went to the 113 year old Bengali sweet shop, Shree Hari Mishtanna Bhandar, which Rukshana had recommended and had radha ballabi, shingara and lyangcha.

I was touched by the fact that Rukshana and her partner, Suneha, took the time to meet me at the Tolly Club and treat me to a lovely ham sandwich, given the sort of parental health-related stress they were under.

I had some lovely biryani, kebabs and curries the night before I left. This was not in one of the classic Mughlai restaurants in Mumbai. This was at Hanglatherium, a restaurant run by Sunanda Banerjee. The meal felt like the last meal of a Bourdain/ Phil Rosenthal food travel episode where everyone featured in the episode lands up at the meal. There was Kaniska and Manishita, Surajit, Auroni and me, hosted by Sunanda and his wife—a lovely evening packed with warmth and great food.

Earlier that evening, I met my mashi and mesho, aunt and uncle, and they fed me lovely mishti doi.

I had earlier spoken of mishtanna bhandar (sweet shop) shingaras; nothing beats the ones didu calls for me from her local sweet shop. Ditto the rasgullas. She called for them when I visited her this time, too. She is 96, and I was shocked to see how much weight she had lost since we last met. I visited her twice. The second time was on the day of my flight back. I picked up mum from home, went to didu’s, then dropped mom home, and went to the airport. Taking an Uber rental helped.

Remember what I said about the love one receives from friends in Kolkata? I would like to give you yet another example of this. I called Siddhartha Bose of Bhojohori Manna to check on his health and chat. He said he wanted to send food from his restaurant for mom. I requested him to do so the day I left and thanks to him we had lovely bhaat, machhed mudo diye dal, alu posto, doi kaatla and shorshe ilish from Bhojohori Manna at didu’s house before I left for home. The fish bones went to the two kittens who have made her home their own. I named them Pithe and Payesh.

As always, I wondered how things would be when I returned next. I shrugged those thoughts away and took comfort in the fact that I had had a truly lovely trip.