Understanding Chetan Bhagat’s One Indian Girl on her own terms

After the reviews for One Indian Girl began to pour in, Chiki Sarkar of Juggernaut asked, “Why not review it on its own terms?”  This review is a response to that question. 5 Points Readers Expect from a Chetan Bhagat Novel Like a Harlequin romance, a Chetan Bhagat novel has certain conventions. Both brands are … Continue reading Understanding Chetan Bhagat’s One Indian Girl on her own terms

One American Girl in India

I am an American woman traveling alone in India. I am not, however, a typical tourist. Before my current stay, I lived for 3 years in Mumbai. During that time, I visited 12 states, primarily in North India, although I made it as far south as Kerala. Since my husband and I left India 2 … Continue reading One American Girl in India

Le lettere dal carcere di mia cuore: A love letter inspired by Jhumpa Lahiri’s In Other Words

Quando sono stato in Firenze, era una programme della cultura chiamata “Firenze porte aperte.” In the evenings, the museums would open their doors for free. Roaming the Uffizi at night while Andrea Boccelli sang in the courtyard of the Palazzo Vecchio is an exquisite memory of my time in Italy. You have returned that memory to me and opened a door. For that, I thank you. Grazie mille.

From a certain point of view: Confirmation bias, narrative, and reader reception in the Gujarat Files

Rana Ayyub seems truly interested in discovering the truth of what happened during the 2002 Gujarat riots and in the encounters that followed. But the question remains: whose truth are we talking about here? That’s where Ayyub’s confirmation bias comes in.

The fan

Usha pushed herself up. Pain weighed down her limbs as she switched off the fan. She went over to the dining room table and collapsed into a chair. Her shoulders heaved as silent sobs escaped her lips. She rose from the chair and moved it under the fan. She climbed onto the chair and draped the dupatta over the fan's stainless steel blades. As she readied to tie the dupatta around her neck, the fan switched on. The dupatta flew out of her hand and on to the floor.