A pang for Indian food hit me like a brick as I walked out of Berlin’s Brandenburg Airport. That’s what two weeks of surviving (read: attempting to make the most of) European food — that to my desipalate (which jumps in proportionate excitement at the number of ‘chilli’ icons next to menu items indicating their spice quotient) was a tad understated — does to you. 

I was craving a good rogan josh. No particular reason. In that moment, my taste buds just seemed to demand the curried meat preparation native to Kashmir, probably to compensate for all the blandness of the past fortnight. 

An hour later, as I walked around the curb of my hotel at Bleibtreustraße 17, rogan josh pangs still ricocheting off my stomach walls, I spotted a place. ‘Calcutta’, read a vibrant green board that marked the entrance. I walked in. 

Usual time metrics say it takes 12 hours (give or take a couple) for a journey from Berlin to India. Well, in my case, it took one minute. I can’t say whether it was the soothing Indian background music that almost seemed like a hug, or the desi tadka aroma quintessential to Indian kitchens, or the smiling Indian gentleman who walked out and nodded to me, but in an instant, I was home. 

There’s something about restaurant owners. They’re born storytellers. And so was my host — and eventually, protagonist — Ashok Kachroo. I asked what the menu special was, and he replied with pride: rogan josh. I smiled at the odds. 

I went right ahead and placed my order for the curry and some butter naans(Indian flatbread). Ashok, the welcoming host that he is, pulled up a chair at the table beside me and asked me how........

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