The Taste a home-grown enterprise
The door bell rang at a residence in Mumbai
suburbs. A wheezing old man was standing outside with an earthen pot. The
silver-haired man wearing a white shirt and a crumpled white dhoti stared till
he caught his breath. He was
too old to have been carrying an earthen pot
on his head. “Rasagolla,” he wheezed, “rasagolla.” He was given a
helping hand and the pot...
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