As I stood on the sun deck, the Ganges Voyager gliding past the ghat steps leading down to the Hooghly, the ghosts of jute mills, the smoke stacks of brick kilns, the endless greenery, the spires and domes of temples and mosques, and the multi-storeyed apartment blocks that were created for the sole purpose of exterminating beauty, I could swear I heard the silky smooth notes of Louis Armstrongs trumpet playing Up a Lazy River in my ear.






