This mithai shop is 192 years old. The man at the till, is 8th generation. I had mishti doi, Sandesh – mango style and something else. In doing so, I realised that I had consumed more sugar in the past five minutes than in a long long long time. It was sinfully and deliciously unregrettable.
So I am still here in Kolkata. It’s nice. Have made a slew of friends: all bikers and very friendly. Everyone wants me to eat something. Need to say no.
I was going through all my media. I have a lot of it. So I spent the morning going through the year and had just completed Russia, when my host Bharat came to pick me up to go to Triumph for my tyres. My tyres have done 28,000 and could have made another 2000. The rear Enduro was worn out and in the front the Michelin looked better. I got the old tyres packed and sent home by parcel. They’ve been with me all this while, carrying me, listening to my grumble, experiencing my bad riding. I’m going to make table tops of them. They deserve a place in my house. I have brand new Metzellers.
Later on, standing in the corner of a street, I enjoyed the hustle and bustle of Indian life. People with determined steps, casual types, onlookers, just standing; all participating in the lifestream of their own reality. No two realities were the same. Snowflakes of thought that melted with the advent of newer thoughts. The past was a puddle. I think I’m high on sugar.
No dinner for me.