In June 2008, I was in Kolkata for my aunt’s funeral. As ever, our (very large) family congregated over several meals. Whether it was birth or death, or any other family event, these meals had always acted as catalyst for our bonding, and held for us a place of supreme importance.
The San Francisco International Film Festival is under way, and this weekend, we saw a couple of movies there. Of these, one was a 3-hour Bengali film called Calcutta, My Love by Goutam Ghose based on Samaresh Majumdar’s acclaimed novel, Kalbela, which I had read in my teens.
Until a few decades ago, most Bengali homes housed joint families. Our homestead on Elgin Road comfortably housed some 15 family members and another 15 servants. Sunday dinners crammed twenty around a table littered with round-puffy-golden luchis, rich-red goat curry, and an opulent choice of Sandesh and Rasogolla desserts. The children eating as fast as