As a boy, a copy of Parsi Lustre on Indian Soil stood on my father’s desk. He used to urge me to read it but the irreverent me never did, except the page on social reformer Behramji Malbari. That was because my mother was a great friend of his daughter Dolly who lived near Regal cinema. The antique shop Philips was on the ground floor. I used to visit her with my mother. Her teas were a delight specially for an ever hungry, little boy. She knew large parts of the English poet Mathew Arnold’s, Sorab and Rustom by heart......