Rohan Banerjee It was a bright Sunday morning in Kolkata, which meant two things: the neighborhood cricket match would block all traffic, and Auntie Shukla would be out in full force, armed with gossip and a rolling pin. Benson Lane wasn’t famous for anything—unless you counted its residents’ Olympic-level ability to interfere in each other’s lives. The star of this story was Mr. Debu Mukherjee, a retired bank officer with too much free time and a suspicious interest in everyone’s grocery shopping. That morning, Debu Babu spotted something alarming at the lane’s corner tea stall. His long-time rival, Somnath, was…