People who swear by fancy-sounding diets would do better to promote the love of good food than make debatable claims.
Spending some time with a villager almost always assures one that change is the only constant we all look forward to.
If you are a cynical traveller, driven by the urge to seek something different, then Iceland provides just the right kind of kick.
Male Justice has marched on undaunted, and mutated into more potent and prurient forms.
Expectations, they say, kill an idea. And after reading Guy Ritchie’s Gamekeeper, I agree vehemently.
Everyone has their own perfect Jeeves and Wooster, but I can’t see anyone other than Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie in those roles.
That a woman is raped every few minutes in the country is more than just a statistic for us crime reporters. It is our bread and butter.
Just like an alcoholic’s tragic relationship with his seedy madhushala, my lonely nights had come to be punctuated by sub-standard meals at Kolkata U.P. Chats and Paratha Center.
This decade has rendered us incapable of facing a gathering on a Sunday without a cocktail or three.
As a woman, you are never entirely independent and detached; everyone has a stake in keeping your freedom in check. And they will never let you forget that.
Seven households, one school, and one tiny gompa (monastery) make up Hipti, a small village in Ladakh.
Scissors snip menacingly, the naked razor blade wanders tantalisingly close to my ear, and cheap talcum powder is generously applied all over my neck.