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The other side of fear

The recent spate of visits by Japanese dignitaries paid flattering tribute to India’s international consequence. But there’s always a pattern and a purpose to such gestures. Both were outlined by a key member of the American strategic establishment four years before Thailand and its neighbours con...   | Read..
 
Letters to the Editor
Take note
Sir — The Reserve Bank of India has decided to withdraw from circulation all currency notes issued ...  | Read.. 
 
Hungry hearts
Sir — Amartya Sen should be thanked for his piece, “Cloud seven” (Jan 26). “Reading the papers and ...  | Read.. 
 
Cricket news
Sir — I have been following recent developments in the world of cricket for sometime now. The most ...  | Read.. 
 
EDITORIAL

BEST INTENTIONS

the father’s 10,000 girlfriends, his love of Rolls Royces, his desperate doubling of the reward, the girl being one of three...   | Read..
 
OPED
Welcoming the dawn with music
The 62nd Dover Lane Music Conference witnessed a rare meeting of generations, the birth of new talents and some illustrious performances. At the same time, it threw up an obvi...  | Read.. 
 
Spectral imprint
Darkness is the singular ingredient of his paintings. Consequently, black is the dominant colour. There are some obvious references to the babu culture of late 19th and...  | Read.. 
 
Intricate elegies
An abandoned letterbox cries because it is hungry. No letters have been dropped in it in a long while. The artist- narrator, passing by, hears the sobs and runs home to bring ...  | Read.. 
 
OPED
Big brotherly posturing
The Devyani Khobragade affair that has rocked India and the United States of America’s relations so unexpectedly carries many lessons. It has highlighted the inherent ...  | Read.. 
 
SCRIPSI
Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond/ Any experience, your eyes have their silence:/ In your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,/ Or which I cannot touch because they are too near/ ...(I do not know what it is about you that closes/ And opens; only something in me understands/ The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)/ Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands. — E.E. CUMMINGS