She bore the face of Nutan, the film star, and the smile of a Hollywood celebrity. With ringlets of bobcut hair framing her face, she seemed an image of abandon. I envied Prafulla. Not only for her looks but also for her chic. … Continue reading
I read a New York Times news story about 120 degrees temperatures in India. And I see my mother, Aai, her face gaunt, her body emaciated. Take me away, she is begging. Take me someplace cool. Take me to a … Continue reading
In 2015, a writer named Dawn Dorland donated a kidney to an anonymous donor. She should have received accolades. Instead, another writer named Sonya Larson wrote a short story about it, titled The Kindest. Not a story depicting Dorland as … Continue reading
Aai and Dada in Delhi-1980 (1) Ever since the coronavirus pandemic began, I have been thinking of my mother. If ever there was a person who was ready for an epidemic, it was my mother. She was the FDA … Continue reading
My faith in the publishing industry began to erode the day I read Gone Girl, a book hyped as the thriller of the century, not to mention a feminist manifesto. With its violent, sadistic, and unbelievable narrator, was … Continue reading
How the dominoes have fallen. Ever since producer Harvey Weinstein was exposed as a sexual predator, the list of prominent men charged with sexual harassment has grown. Some of these men, like comedian Louis C.K., and actor Kevin Spacey, have … Continue reading
I have always had difficulty with Margaret Atwood’s writings, perhaps because her visions of the future are too dark. Listening to the audio version of The Blind Assassin, I got thoroughly confused. No surprise then that I hadn’t read her … Continue reading
You have gazed at the world from distant shores; you have lived far away from the center of action. You know how it feels to be an outsider, not only because of the color of your skin, but also because … Continue reading
My first day in the United States was so bright, I thought I had flown around the world and returned to India again. I was wearing a blue and white nylon sari, my hair was done in a braid hanging … Continue reading
My memories of our house in India are dominated by two objects: a candid portrait of Mahatma Gandhi wearing his famous wire-rimmed glasses, my parents’ wedding present; and hanging beside it on the living room wall, my brother’s charcoal sketch … Continue reading