"It is the same in all wars; the soldiers do the fighting, the journalists do the shouting, and no true patriot ever gets near a front line trench, except on the briefest of propaganda tours. Sometimes it is a comfort to me to think that the aeroplane is altering the conditions of war. Perhaps when... Continue Reading →
1/3 rd Murakami There is an Indian author named Chetan Bhagat. A newly popular writer with simplistic stereotypical stories that do not warrant much attention other than to calibrate maturity levels of readers. Not exactly the deepest fellow doing the rounds in Indian Literature, if you catch my drift. Haruki Murakami reminds me of Chetan Bhagat. Emo kids, mysterious... Continue Reading →
The three of us who walked into the YMCA grounds in Chennai to sample the books at the Chennai Book Fair 2015 made a motley crew. A middle aged professional, a fussy old lady and a simian youngster. Each I suspect had an ulterior motive all connected with books. The book fair itself was a... Continue Reading →
Park Slope, in Brooklyn, is hippie haven. Well dressed intelligent looking people of all ages congregate in coffee and tea shops tapping away on their macs denouncing corporations and toting organic bags. Coffee shops abound with barristas disdainfully nodding to indie music. Sitting here I have a deep sense of guilt, not unlike what a charlatan might... Continue Reading →
A confused South African Indian musing about life.
my love affair with Russian literature
Pandora's Box for Art Lovers and Beauty Seekers
Lesfic Author
As I navigate through this life ...
Please read the offer document carefully before investing.
