A brilliant brekky cafe in Melbourne.

I was always the odd duck. Growing up, I hated Bollywood and it’s contrived drama. I entered Medical school when I was 18 years old. It was an unreal experience. None of my colleagues liked rock, art or theatre. They were bewitched by Bollywood.

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I have been an avid reader for the longest time. Amidst this personal turmoil, I discovered Upamanyu Chatterjee’s ‘English August, An Indian Story”. It was an  Indian edition. As I read on, I embarked upon a solitary journey of self awareness. The book spoke of two Indias. It also spoke about people like me, who were outliers, who did not fit in. The book in itself is both a bildungsroman and a slacker novel. It’s humour is often black and sardonic as well as bawdy. The book itself could be termed “plotless”. The plotlessness is in itself a joy as it mirrors the mind of the protagonist. 

It was much later that I met the author and discussed the book with him. It also remains the one book that I shall carry to a deserted island. It remains a cult classic in India. Do try to get the New York review of Books edition. It is magnificent. 

http://www.nybooks.com/books/imprints/classics/english-august/

Me and the harbour bridge. Cheesy but fun. 

emilyapathetic:

I was just casually searching the internet for what female education was like in the 1930’s, when I came across these hilarious answers at wiki.answers.com.

The simplicity of the first answer, the utter nonsensicalness of the second answer, and the plaintive tone of the third answer collectively made me laugh hysterically for about three minutes.

What is this, I don’t even.