This is a thought that has occurred to me, on and off, right from the time Salman Rushdie issued an apology for The Satanic Verses. And it returns, as Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau apologizes for his various instances of blackface–though books are a very different kettle of fish from crude actions such as blackfacing….

I am surprised to realize the number of Harry Belafonte songs I heard as a child: “Day-O”, “Island in the Sun,” “Jamaica Farewell,” (which I can still remember and sing) and “Mama Look a Boo Boo” (which I only knew two lines of). I may forget, almost instantly, the name of a person I’ve just…

Barry Fruchter, an English professor at Nassau Community College in Long Island, reviewed the first, rather rough edition of Eaten by the Japanese: The Memoir of an Unknown Indian Prisoner of War in 1998, and though I have quoted paragraphs from it before, the complete review itself deserves nothing less than full publication and reading,…

We take so many things for granted. Life, breath, movement, the smooth operation of our four limbs. Until something happens to us to remind us of our fragility, that we are just bits of self-conscious cosmic dust floating around the universe. And something did happen to me: it was a long and painful mess. But…

“I didn’t know that Indians were allowed to write like this!” remarked one of three young Indians  (who had recently read The Revised Kama Sutra and Impressing the Whites, located my email address, and gotten in touch with me in Delhi in 2002–around the time that V.S. Naipaul, was being feted in Delhi). Like them,…

Recently, I was approached by an Indian journalist who was writing about Indian prisoners of war of the Japanese in World War II? Did I have any photographs of my father of that time, presumably before and during the war? My father was one of the subjects/sources of that article, having written a book which…