I had heard some commotion outside our Grey Street home in north Calcutta, and rushed to the window to find out what was going on. People were running helter-skelter down the toad, clutching on to shoes, clothes and sundry knick-knacks. Danga legeche! (riots have broken out), somebody cried. I had then quietly sneaked out, mingled with a crowd looting a provision store, casually picked up a latai (kite-string bobbin) bursting with coloured strings and scampered home.