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Eternally stuck at the cusp of dusk, the Hatter’s party neither begins nor ends; Cloistered away from the daily grind, this is a place for imagination and friends. I could have said as much for Lewis Caroll’s passages, as I do for silk designer Cheryl Gonsalves’ verdant restaurant; at Madhatter’s Tea Graden, off the leafy Chetpet streets, time can indeed seem to halt its march as you put up your feet under the shade of its Mango tree.