One afternoon during the Holy Month, I have that indistinct but unmistakable sensation that I am being followed.
Sea of Poppies is a miraculous book about even more than the 19th-century opium trade, which is an exciting tale in and of itself, fraught with voracious greed, power-mongering, and racism.
Vikram Chandra’s Bombay shimmies with contradiction, seduction, and trouble.
I sometimes wonder whether Zia Jaffrey has a sixth sense, a sort of x-ray vision that gives her deep brown eyes the ability to penetrate the hearts of others.
Beloved you are not here
Calcutta is a dead weight on my heart: / I must destroy her before I go.
My birth was at the bottom rung of the Western Ghats
at a distance of three rolls only from the boiling