Thursday, February 13, 2014

The one who writes

Just finished reading Moor's Last Sigh. It was a longer, more disturbing, at time even tedious. But the book is magical in thd way it brings out the desecration of Bombay after the Ayodhya matter...how a delicious city now has all the appeal of stale food. How wanting our love for the city has been. And yet what remains maybe is what Moor calls a defeated love. And yet, through even that, might come a deep sleep and an awakening into a new world.

Many times, I am asked or I wonder why Salman Rushdie is so special to me. Maybe its his writing. Maybe its his imagination or the way he draws out history in a way that it collapses in the now. But mostly, his books always feel like stories he is telling only me. And he tells me these tales, at least in my head, when I ask, "You know what I mean?" And through his books, he says, "Yes...let me tell you a story..."

Also, yes, his deep understanding of the way love, and occasionally Bombay works...making myths and migrants of us all.

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