I am in Calcutta which is my favourite Indian city, well of all the cities I have visited so far. On the way here I was reading an interview with Paul Theroux about his new book which is set in Calcutta. Theroux as always couldn't help but take a swipe at Naipaul. In any case this swipe is irrelevant because my point is, so many writers Indian and otherwise seem to have drawn inspiration or something like inspiration from this fabulous city. There is certainly something about it's decaying/crumbling quality and pace of life that makes me feel a sense of peace despite the obvious chaos. I had a lovely dinner with the Calcutta alumni last night, it was hosted by Nayantara at her home and I am still thinking of the food I consumed last night. I think it's probably the best meal I have had in India EVER, which is saying something. Photo of me and the alumni after the massive meal is deceptive, I am really struggling to pull my tummy in despite the wide smile.