When I met Rita Mukherjee, I didn’t know who she was.

I was at the bar of Delhi’s India International Centre, with my friend R. Two older women, one in a lofty bouffant and saree, the other with very short grey hair and loose khadi kurta, were scanning the room for a table. R went to the loo. The two women sized me up right as biddable. R returned to find them sharing our table. They forced us to eat their snacks and peremptorily engaged us in conversation.