The Telegraph
Saturday , September 8 , 2012
 
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Since 1st March, 1999
 
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Sightings of Sachin

As Sachin Tendulkar walked back to the pavilion after being bowled for a low score in the first innings of the second Test against New Zealand, I heard a man in the row behind me say: “Time to think of retirement.” This was a heartlessly cruel remark, especially in Bangalore, where India’s greatest batsman has played some magical innings over the past 20 years....   | Read..
 
Letters to the Editor
Lost beauty
Sir I had the opportunity to visit the Khasi and Jaintia hills in Meghalaya recently. While journ ...  | Read.. 
 
Ugly view
Sir Ever since Ansar Alam, an honest engineer of the Municipal Corporation of Delhi, was brutally ...  | Read.. 
 
Bitter truth
Sir Recently, I overheard a conversation among a group of students who were discussing a gruesome ...  | Read.. 
 
Parting shot
Sir I boarded an autorickshaw from Jadavpur to go to Gariahat. On reaching Golpark, the auto driv ...  | Read.. 
 
EDITORIAL

BOWLED BY AGE

In the game of cricket there is nothing more humiliating for a batsman than to be clean bowled. That happens to the best bats...   | Read..
 
OPED
But the heart did not stop
With a mind-boggling title like An Interstitial Intimacy (whatever it means) an exhibition of prints which ends today at Aakriti Art Gallery one expects that it wou...  | Read.. 
 
From fun to monotony
Shakespeare has caught the fancy of group theatre in recent months, but a fresh band of youths had beaten them to it with an ebullient Bengali pastiche of Hamlet. 4th B...  | Read.. 
 
Vibrant and chaotic
When a senior artist has a solo show in her home town, it is news. And Anita Roy Chowdhury belongs to that generation of artists who began redefining modern art in the post-Be...  | Read.. 
 
THIS ABOVE ALL
Reading list in the race to the top
Almost without fail, every four years, the American presidential election brings into the limelight a candidate who coins a d...  | Read.. 
 
SCRIPSI
My lady can sleep/ Upon a handkerchief/ Or if it be Fall/ Upon a fallen leaf./ I have seen the hunters/ Kneel before her hem/ Even in her sleep/ She turns away from them./ The only gift they offer/ Is their abiding grief/ I pull out my pockets/ For a handkerchief or leaf. LEONARD COHEN