Let me tell you about my aunt Indira, who spent fifteen years complaining that her knees sounded like a breakfast cereal factory. Snap, crackle, pop—every...
He was the kind of man who kept a notebook. Rajaram Iyengar, sixty-three, retired BEML engineer, R T Nagar, Bangalore. Eleven years of diabetes, HbA1c...
The moment I say, “Limit rice,” the room’s temperature changes. Not silence. No agreement. Reaction. I have seen calmer responses to tax notices. “Doctor, rice means life....
There are two kinds of confidence in this city. One is earned slowly, corrected often, and slightly suspicious of itself. The other arrives fully formed...