Translated fiction: Bengali couple Sudeep and Kamalika raise their children in 1960s’ America

It’s already the tenth of March, but there’s no stopping the snow pouring down from the Brooklyn sky. Thirteen of the fifteen winters we’ve spent in this country were in the South, where proximity to the Tropic of Cancer makes the climate milder – the winters, only slightly harsh. Like the winters in Delhi. What’s more? It’s over by the end of January. So, we aren’t quite accustomed to so much snow, or blizzards. I feel that snow, like the rain, is best enjoyed from behind a windowpane. It’s when you step outside that the cold really hits you.

Last winter, I escaped to Australia alone on a seven-week lecture tour. It was an opportunity to sightsee around southeastern Australia while also dodging the sting of northern American winters. I’ve always been rather sensitive to cold. My wife, Kamalika, on the other hand, can’t stand the heat. In Houston, the temperatures would sometimes rise to tropical levels. On top of that, there were the hurricanes rushing in from the Gulf of Mexico – all fangs and claws bared. So, the weather seemed rather agreeable when we moved to New York from Houston, if only at first. My friend Jyoti is a...

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