Jiggs Kalra

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Jiggs Uncle And The Making Of A Food Writer

It was an Old Monk-y evening of December when the entire unit was called for an evening dine-out. It began as most such evenings did, and then you saw a line of ranks being formed as a blue turban made his way to the enclosure reserved for ladies and officers. In the habit of following my dad everywhere, I tugged his arm and asked, "Who is it?" He whispered, "Jiggs Kalra."

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