New Delhi, Jan. 16 -- The first time I was invited to the Jaipur Literature Festival I showed up fashionably dressed at the inauguration party sans cap. I thought my pedestrian cap would ruin my outfit at the glamorous Rambagh Palace. But the party was open air and I froze my head off. I skipped all the fancy icy cocktails. A kindly bartender who had an electric kettle was a lifesaver, serving me whisky with hot water. Later I encountered the Bengali writer Manoranjan Byapari in the writer's lounge. He was swaddled in sweaters and of course, a monkey cap. I congratulated him about an award he had won recently. He nodded absently, peered up at me and mumbled, "It's so cold here."

The Bengali in winter is a cultural trope, some would say c...