Lady Flora had developed a tan for the first time in decades. Sir PM had just recovered from a heatstroke-type scare. Yet, both seemed in reasonably good spirits as they caught up in the shaded, comforting confines of the cathedral after a week of R&R. “My lady, I dreamt of that heavenly rossogulla even on the first day of my illness. I feel it had something to do in my speedy recovery post that nasty period of unease and exhaustion. After all, I was itching to pop in one as soon as I was feeling better,” Sir PM smiled. His friend knew all too well of that feeling. After all, both had experienced the most prized Bengali sweets while on their weeklong visit to India’s former capital city for the annual all-India Statue Conference. “My favourite was the nolen gurer sandesh, the seasonal delicacy,” Lady Flora recalled, “Sweets aside, I think it was a visit filled with discoveries and reality checks.”

“Indeed. I wasn’t expecting such a huge turnout. No doubt, representation-wise, Calcutta won hands-down. It was good to catch up with my contemporaries, Subhas Bose, Kazi Nazrul Islam, and of course, Tagore babu. What fine work, I must admit…” Sir PM said. “But I also noticed how sculptors have been rather busy in the city, in general. So many statues, both of famous people and common, slice-of-life and key representations across the city,” he justified. “What do you mean, Pheroze?” Lady Flora asked, wondering if something had missed her hawk-eye observations. “I was referring to the volume of statues, installations and busts across the city. Whether it is a group of Baul performers, freedom fighters or literary and cultural personalities— male and female, they celebrate them all. I like that it isn’t pompous but functional, good craftsmanship.”