Bandra Fort, last evening. For the reading of Nine Lives by William Darlymple. The session was interspersed with performances by characters in the books – Theyam dancers, Baul singers, Sufi singers from Sindh, and a performance by Susheela Raman. Raman’s performance can best be described with the goosebumps I got when she took that lion of a voice and throw it over the moon! The fort was decorated with lamps, and there were chattais for seating. Elderly people were having a problem climbing up all those steps, and the inadequate lighting made a lot of people trip…but the place was packed. It was p.a.c.k.e.d. Now, I’m not one for book readings. {I find it very infantilizing to have a writer read out his book, for God’s sakes. And then go on to talk about it. In my mind, a writer’s primary mode of articulation is the pen. If that hasn’t been wielded well, all the gabbing about ‘ what I thought’ and ‘how I felt’ is not going to be worth it. When I write a book, I’m definitely not goin
With something drifting and something shifting, the earth still held the sky.