My father was one of ten siblings. His father was a well-known lawyer who practiced in the Jalpaiguri court. He grew up in open spaces in a sprawling complex that had been till recently a paddy field, and with the kind of freedom school-going children of our generation could not even think of. Those were the days when one could see the Kanchenjunga from the tin roof of the house, and when time was measured by the whistle of the Darjeeling Mail as it arrived at the station a couple of kilometres away, so uncongested were the surroundings, so bare was the town then.
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