A nostalgic poem on youthful days spent in Darjeeling when days are passed doing nothing but walking up and down the roads around Chowrasta.
So one time when I was in class 7, on my birthday – that rare occasion when I was flush with money – I ordered a Masala Dosa in Stardust and took it to school. Imagine, instead of chocolates or toffee, I took one Masala Dosa for everyone in class. All my classmates loved it, even though we only had tiny pieces each, but for most of us, this was the first time we had Dosa in our lives, at least for me it was. So to see Stardust change hands, was literally very painful for me.