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There is a certain way winter descends over Calcutta. It's not sudden, it isn't gradual. It doesn't creep over the city, neither does it smoothly take over. You just have to live here long enough to notice the patterns. There are a few brakes..a few jerks. But winter still comes to this city beautifully. And for someone like me, who enjoys the feeling of the world around me being just about cold enough for me to want to be warm, well, it's just perfect.

Cause when you're entwined in his arms after a long hard day of stage fright, and you pass a wall graffiti, when the next moment's lights are reflected in the large pool of his eyes - it is this city you feel for most.

There are five minutes to go. And you wanna go on top of a really top building and scream to the same city. Out of joy, overwhelmingly joyously.

After all..it was winter, Calcutta winter. Which brought intermingled frosts of breaths. And tears, displaced kisses. Him, not much later.