India, July 1 -- By It feels like someone quietly stole a piece of Italy, not in mischief but with love, and placed it gently in the middle of Calcutta. A gift. A secret. At Mirabelle, you don't just walk into a cafe. You walk into a dream. The sun-drenched patio, enclosed by a transparent roof, holds a kind of old-world romance. There's a soft green pistachio-hued coffee machine that hums beside a wood-fired pizza oven, as if it's been brought directly from a cobbled street in Florence. The air smells of melted cheese and fresh herbs, but the real magic is in the stillness. It feels like time slows down here. Just as you begin to settle in, the cafe transforms again. A floral, pastel-filled room opens up, soft and elegant, like something f...