I have spent eight months now in the glorious city of Kolkata. You wouldn’t think it is glorious from those who still pedal the story of “The Black Hole” and quote Kipling. Paul Theroux, an exceptional novelist, in his new book, “A Dead Hand, A Crime in Calcutta”, continues the myth. The city “went on growing, yet it still looked rickety and ruinous, and in areas of faded elegance and dramatic misery a bad smell lingered, haunted and human”, he writes. But it is glorious in many ways. At its centre is a park larger than New York’s Central Park, full of boys and men playing cricket, and gardens with well tended flowers. In the midst of it sits the Victoria Monument, one of the finest buildings built in the nineteenth century that housed the central government of the British Asian empire. Right through the city are fine mansions. Some...