The Telegraph
Saturday , July 27 , 2013

Himalayan heroines

I wrote, in my last column (“No lack of warning”, July 13), about the precocious environmental work of Mira Behn (Madeleine Slade), the British admiral’s daughter who became a close associate of Mahatma Gandhi...   | Read..
Looking for a new partner
Last month, the external affairs minister, Salman Khurshid, became the first Indian minister to visit Iraq in 23 years and underscored India’s commitment “to participate in rebuilding the ...  | Read.. 
Letters to the Editor
Forgotten face
Sir — The Bengali actor, Samit Bhanja, had made his mark in the film, Apanjan (1968). Althou ...  | Read.. 
Wise choice
Sir — It was heartening to learn that the renowned hockey player, Dhyan Chand, is going to be honou ...  | Read.. 
Parting shot
Sir — Mukul Mangalik’s article, “University’s summer of shame” (July 23), is low on content and hig ...  | Read.. 


When two academic luminaries have an argument, lesser mortals interested in the subject or the theme get enriched ...   | Read..
Quirky, confident charm
Nothing lifts the stage spirit as much as a musical: that “total art work” in Richard Wagner’s words with which he defined opera, but which applies equally to its popular ...  | Read.. 
Virile chaos
Even at first glance, the viewer can see that there’s more to the art of Prashanta Kolay than just a reworking of Abstract Expressionism. Its virile chaos...  | Read.. 
Beautiful symmetries
The presentation of Padatik Dance Centre captured different moods of life, different shades of humanity, as if they were using an x-ray to bring out hidden agonies and ...  | Read.. 
I’ve heard there was a secret chord/ That David played, and it pleased the Lord/ But you don’t really care for music, do you?/ It goes like this/ The fourth, the fifth/ The minor fall, the major lift/ The baffled king composing Hallelujah/...Your faith was strong but you needed proof/ You saw her bathing on the roof/ Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you/ She tied you to a kitchen chair/ She broke your throne, and she cut your hair/ And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah/...Baby I have been here before/ I know this room, I’ve walked this floor/ I used to live alone before I knew you./ I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch/ Love is not a victory march/ It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah/...Maybe there’s a God above/ But all I’ve ever learned from love/ Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you/ It’s not a cry you can hear at night/ It’s not somebody who has seen the light/ It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah. — LEONARD COHEN