I like cigarettes here

There is something about this charming old city which makes the whisper of smoke from cigarettes smell good. As if the essence of its people- their bright, ignited minds and embers of intellect will die if they are not seduced by this faint intoxication in their breath; their breath which fueled years of culture, literature, art, science, revolt, and justice- all at once will fade away when this smoke does. Its air will remain not its own and neither will its people. Maybe cigarettes made a pact with Kolkata to promise to smell good as long as it doesn’t lose its fire.