A Calcutta-Yellow-Taxi ride
‘Why can’t the taxis slow down instead of threatening to kill us all?’ ‘Why should they? Calcutta is no place for sissies and sluggards. Taxi Drivers are entitled to run you down. It’s your job to save your skin, by running faster than a taxi’. The above exchange from a cult (evidently very small cult) book on Calcutta, ‘Flames of the Forest’, ensured that I chose the notorious yellow taxi to drop us to the airport, on a short stop in the city. Time being of essence, we had made an efficient list of ‘top tourist’ places to click, on our way from Dalhousie, where we stayed at the oldest hotel in the country (check out Great Eastern Hotel – doesn’t get more old world than this), to the airport. First, the taxi driver, Samir, summarily dismissed our list 😑 He decided our itinerary and the photos below are all courtesy Samir. By mistake I had mumbled something about ‘trams’, so he chased every possible tram around Maidan, including the quaint WB Tourism one. So, as li...