Having always been fond of reading, I am constantly on the lookout for new authors. So recently I discovered a man called Roy Moxham. In 2002, he wrote a book about a hedge. Yes, a hedge. The book is called, rightly, “The Great Hedge of India”. Why

Six years ago when I had just retired, my wife who is a professor of Korean studies at JNU, decided to undertake some research in Korea. I also went along. Although we had TV in our bedroom, there was nothing at all in English. So I would

In case you are wondering where to go this summer, try Portugal. I went there last summer because it is a country I have always wanted to visit. It was home to Prince Henry the Navigator, the man who started Portuguese explorations between 1425 and 1450 down

Soon the summer will be upon us in earnest. People will start to make travel plans. They will look for destinations and cheap tickets well in advance. But there is one thing they will not plan for: what books to take with them. Believe me this can

The first time I flew from Delhi where I have lived since 1958 and Madras, as it was called then, was in the late 1970s. The flight, said the Captain, will take two hours and twenty minutes. We took off at 5 pm on the iconic IC

Ageing has several rewards, not the least of which is being able to watch other people work while you relax. But to compensate for this schadenfreude, there are also those niggling aches and pains. These, however, pale in front of another problem, that utterly dismaying practice of

Three years ago, in a fit of beer induced silliness, I told some friends about the great virtues of those who write in newspapers, especially journalists. Irritated by my smug tone, a friend challenged me to write a novel and/or short stories. Her dismissive and derisive tone annoyed me. So, like

Last year, I got thoroughly irritated with a friend of over 50 years. He is a very forceful character, a perfect example of the Tamil proverb in which the protagonist says his rabbits always have three legs. He is also an excellent sportsman and represented his college and university at tennis,

Last month I attended an understated but classy event in Chennai which, even though my name suggests it, is not my home, or even my ‘hometown’ as the government would describe it. For me Chennai is the place which always serves as a reminder that there are more elegant ways of

Those who read autobiographies will be familiar with what I am about to say, namely, that there are two types of these: the reflective ones and the one-damn-thing-after-another ones. The former are the best; the latter the worst. I mean, after all, you read an autobiography for

A  few days ago, a friend who is otherwise quite a decent fellow, announced that he doesn’t read fiction. His remark reminded me of an incident 40 years ago. A girl friend who thought I was frittering away my life tried to force heavyweights like Prem Chand, Tagore, Bankimchand ­Chattopadhyay, Sartre,