All Articles

Mani Shankar Aiyar is a public intellectual with a gift of the gab. A Stephanian, whose father died when he was young, a student​; he did well ​for himself and joined the coveted Indian Foreign Service in 1963, after pursuing a degree in Oxford where he had a brief interaction with Rajiv Gandhi. Twenty-two years later, he joined Rajiv’s prime minister office as a joint secretary and went on to become one of the most powerful bureaucrats. Rajiv undid his monumental mandate, an

Raghav Chadha is a Rajya Sabha member, the youngest to be made one. His party–Aam Aadmi Party (AAP)–now feels it was a mistake. To desert the party that made a man out of him, and then a politician with substance (I doubt, certainly skilled), was not expected of him. I don’t blame Arvind Kejriwal for him, but he is learning the hard way. Looks matter and looks can be deceptive. Swati Maliwal, now Raghav. Arvind was able to keep his flocks together when he was the chief minist

​ Priyanka Gandhi Vadra, daughter, granddaughter, great granddaughter of the prime ministers of India. Her mother, Sonia, is of Italian origin, could also become the prime minister, however, her conscience didn’t permit it. Sonia, however, couldn’t resist the trappings of power, she, for all practical purposes, ruled by proxy, with Manmohan Singh as the prime minister. Sonia headed an extra constitutional body, tailor made for her, the National Advisory Council (NAS), its ad

Kishore Seram has been a journalist for forty years and still is not skeptical, instead is open to life almost like a teenager. His ability to make things happen and keep them running is admirable. He writes, and helps people write interesting stories, but to me, the story of his life is very interesting, therefore, I thought would write about him.  Kishore, wears many hats, not just a writer, is a photographer, filmmaker, like a mirror reflecting our times without fear or f

I stick my neck out to answer the million-dollar question: Who will become the next Chief Minister of West Bengal (WB)? To win the heart of the electorate, the new chief minister (CM) will have t​o understand that the regional identity is intertwined with the national fabric. Therefore, the aspirants for the top post, including the incumbent, are humbly reminded that Bengal is the land of Kaali, not Ram—embodies a civilisational ethos that venerates feminine power. Ma, Shakti

Donald Trump is the most popular and powerful man in the world, also fairly whimsical, unpredictable, and the world leaders don’t know how to deal with him.  I must add, he's, though, a Republican president of the United States (US), is fairly democratic about his absurd (not foolish, though) interventions across the globe, whether in Latin America, Europe or Asia. All said and done, he’s not a fool as some of us want to conveniently dismiss him. He has a plan. And a mass app

Jan Peters is an environmentalist by heart, a landscape ecologist by training, leading an individualistic life with responsibility, having said that, he’s a traveller by temperament and is open to influences. Curiosity keeps him going, exploring new frontiers. He has been to many countries and witnessed communities, garnering intuitive understanding of the way of life, people, environment, geography, biology, economy of a place and what not. A panoramic picture of a place com

Ravi Singh is the most known unknown publisher in the country. A publisher par excellence, he has had hundreds of books to his credit in the last 32 years - and counting. Having said that, his profession is no indicator of his personality. What I like about him the most is not just that he is a publisher - and will eventually publish many of my books, which no one else but he can do justice to - but also that he’s one of those very few people who are their own best friend.  A

Dharmendra is one of the most celebrated actors of the Indian film industry, is popular for his stunning looks and golden hear​t, a rarest of rare combinations that sets him apart from the rest. He died a couple of weeks short of his 90 th birthday, last week. Though I have never had a conversation with him, he has had a presence in my life, intriguing me like millions of Indians, for all the obvious reasons. Here, I try to look at his life in words of people who knew him ve

Most memories are like dreams — intangible, fuzzy, fleeting and subliminal. However, sometimes, they have an exceptional timelessness that causes them to resurface at the mere hint of reflection. The collective national grief at Dharmendra’s demise impels me to go down memory lane — almost six decades in time. It was a lazy Sunday in the summer holidays of 1969. I sat with a pile of Enid Blytons in the outer courtyard of our old home on Station Road in Lucknow. A strapping ca

​ Iih, just over 30, has made strange choices in life that makes him an odd one in terms of normative existence. At the age of 14, he rebelled, left the comfort of home, dropped out of school, and became a vagabond in a more in a more contemporary sense—romanticized unconventional mobile lifestyle. Home, the irrevocable condition, was not there for him, so he learned​ to take care of himself, remaining a political animal, an activist with the Gandhian ambition to change the w

​ A haze of smoke rises from the ghats, mingling with the aroma of tea boiling in tin kettles. I’m standing by my window, witnessing a winter morning in North Kolkata. There’s something quintessential about winters here—something that belongs only to my city, therefore, to me. My family has lived here for generations. Kolkata defines me in mysterious ways. In the following sentences, I delve on some of these mysteries openly. The first sip of cha (chai—tea leaves boiled with