Top News

Neville stood on the balcony of their bungalow in Assagaon, preparing a drink for his wife. Oddly, she had taken to cashew feni, some new brand called Cazulo. Nice bottle, he had to concede, though the smell still made his stomach turn. Shehnaz swore it was unlike any she had tasted before. It would have to be, as Neville remembered distinctly how much she once detested the spirit, revered as it was in this land. For good measure, he added a dash of bitters, an orange peel and topped it off with ice and soda, hoping that would suppress the pong. For himself, he poured a measure of Hapusa gin, another not-inexpensive local hit which claimed to use Himalayan juniper berries. Every week, a new gin seemed to hit the shelves in Goan supermarkets. RIP Blue Riband, not a day too soon either, thought Neville. They raised their glasses. “To rain.”

It was seven in the evening on a rained-out August day in Goa. The past week had been relentless. They loved it but could imagine the plight of people who had to travel to work every day braving this weather. Everything around them seemed lush and verdant. The trees looked happy...