Mark Tully worked for the BBC in South Asia for 25 years and now works as a journalist in New Delhi. His books include No Full Stops In India, The Heart of India and Lives of Jesus. In India in Slow Motion, Mark Tully covers subjects as diverse as Hindu extremism, bonded child labour, Sufi mysticism, the crisis in agriculture, the persistence of political corruption and the problem of Kashmir.
Let’s read an excerpt from this book.
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On the last Sunday we met another priest who had not found change easy. When we were sitting in a pew waiting for mass to start in Old Goa’s Se Cathedral, a small, elderly but remarkably spry priest came up to us wearing not the usual white cassock but an old fashioned, tight-fitting black one with a traditional high dog-collar. He asked whether I was a Portuguese speaker and when I told him I didn’t know a word of the language he said, ‘I usually ask foreigners that because I love speaking Portuguese but I don’t get much chance nowadays.’
I asked why the exterior of his cathedral was now yellow instead of the traditional Goan white and this provoked a diatribe against the Archaeological Survey of India which had taken over responsibility from the church for the monuments of Old Goa. ‘We can’t do anything to our own cathedral now,’ he fumed, hopping from one foot to the other in his anger. ‘We even have to get permission to put up a new collection box, and what do they do to preserve the church? Nothing.’ As evidence he took me to the west end and showed me piles of rubble where the plaster was peeling from the pillars.
I had noticed that his cassock had purple piping and purple buttons so I asked, ‘Does the purple mean you are a monsignor?’
‘No. But I am Father Adolpho Joviano Castro Viegas, a canon of the cathedral and the parish priest and that is just as senior.’
Having been put straight about that, I went on to ask, ‘In the cathedral, do you keep up the old traditions of worship?’
‘Of course I try to, but what can we do? We don’t have money to pay for the choirs and all that you need for proper ritual, and the bishop doesn’t care either. The Portuguese bishop used to come here regularly with full pomp and devotion. The present one only comes about four times a year. I love the full ritual and singing, it lifts your heart.’
The peppery priest then left me to robe for the chapter mass. The vast cathedral was far from full when Father Adolpho and six other equally elderly canons entered through the south aisle. Robed in splendid green copes they walked in a solemn procession, accompanied by just one server, to the altar at the top of the chancel steps. Six of the canons including Adolpho took their seats in high backed chairs behind the altar and one stood at the altar to celebrate the mass with dignity and solemnity. He was accompanied by a small choir in the organ loft.
Looking at the magnificent gilded reredos crowned by the figure of Christ on the cross just below the white-barrelled ceiling of the sanctuary, I couldn’t help but think of the Portuguese who had built this monument to impress Goans with the majesty of a God who lived on high. I knew that the church had to change, to bring God down to earth, if it was to survive in independent India, but I also acknowledged that I came from the old tradition, the tradition Father Adolpho was preserving. I found it easier to worship God in majesty, rather than God the social worker who battles for the poor, or God the personal pal of the charismatics.
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Category: Features
articles features main category
In the Name of God by Ravi Subramanian – An Excerpt
Ravi Subramanian, an alumnus of IIM Bangalore, has spent two decades working his way up the ladder of power in the amazingly exciting and adrenaline-pumping world of global banks in India. Four of Ravi’s eight bestselling titles have been award winners. His latest thriller, In the Name of God, revolves around the Anantha Padmanabha Swamy Temple in Thiruvananthapuram that safeguards within its sacrosanct walls centuries of customs and rituals, unimaginable wealth and an unwavering calm. Until a dead body turns up in its holy pond. . . and then another.
Let’s read an excerpt from this gripping novel.
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Nirav Choksi, a name the who’s who of Mumbai had on their speed dial, designed and manufactured customized jewellery for the rich and famous all over the world. He was often referred to as the Indian Joel Arthur Rosenthal, one of the world’s most exclusive jewellers whose high-flying clientele included Elizabeth Taylor, Elle Macpherson, Kim Kardashian, Michelle Obama and even the Princess of Jordan. Nirav Choksi’s client list boasted the marquee names on the social circuit—politicians, wealthy Indian businessmen, film stars. Choksi wielded a fair bit of clout on the jewellery trade in the country. A man with both contacts and influence, he was an extremely sought-after guy in the political circuit for skills which went beyond jewellery design.
Like Rosenthal, he too made fifty to sixty pieces of jewellery a year. Connoisseurs recognized an NC piece the moment they saw it. From traditional to contemporary, he designed them all, never repeating a design. A man with a huge ego, Nirav crafted his own designs and would get very upset if a client tried to dictate to him. He was once overheard saying that he preferred international clients to Indians, not because they paid more, but because in India every woman thought she was the best designer in the world. There were times when he had refused to sell a piece of jewellery because he felt the ornament would not look good on the client—such was his pride in his craft. Every stone is a canvas and every item of jewellery is a piece of art, he would say. Advertisements and self-promotion were not Nirav’s style. According to him, ‘word of mouth’ was what helped him get and retain clients. Even his office in Zaveri Bazaar was a thousand square-foot pigeonhole in the basement of Pancharathna Complex.
Zaveri Bazaar was the nerve centre of the jewellery trade not only in Mumbai, but the whole of India. Roughly sixty per cent of India’s gold trade passed through the narrow overcrowded lanes of the bazaar. The shabby buildings lining the sides of the main road held crores of rupees worth of gold, diamonds and jewellery, all stored in lockers built into the walls of the small stores, said to be strong enough to withstand any kind of robbery attempt, earthquake or bomb blast. The Government of India’s attempts to move the diamond and jewellery trade to a snazzy new building in Bandra Kurla Complex, an upmarket suburb in Mumbai, had been met with resistance. Many jewellers, led by Nirav Choksi, were Zaveri Bazaar loyalists and unwilling to move to the government-sponsored yet privately owned BKC Diamond Bourse.
Nirav had one more office in the neighbourhood. Apart from the basement office in Pancharathna Complex, he also had a small workshop a few buildings away where his trusted and most skilled workers crafted the pieces that he so painstakingly designed.
That day, he had just stepped into his basement office when his phone rang.
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Code Name God by Mani Bhaumik; An Excerpt
Mani Lal Bhoumik is an Indian-born American physicist and writer. Enriching and inspirational, his bestseller, Code Name God: The Spiritual Odyssey of a Man of Science, strikes a perfect balance between spirituality and science to explain the deep concepts that seem to be giving shape and meaning to our lives.
Let’s read an excerpt from this book which the author terms as his personal odyssey.
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After Friedrich Nietzsche’s proclamation that God is dead, humankind seemed to sink into a slough of despair, sometimes bordering on panic, since we were fearful that we had lost all sense of direction. Sigmund Freud, the father of modern psychology, urged people to regard God as an illusion, nothing more. He said our concept of God only symbolized an infantile desire for a father figure, and we should outgrow this desire. Science should replace God, Freud decreed, explaining: “Science is not an illusion. But it would be an illusion to suppose that we could get anywhere else what it cannot give us.”
But science also proved to be a false god, and its worldview left many despondent, among them even the atheistic philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, who wrote of “the Godshaped hole in the human head” through which the Creator had been forcibly extracted. From the mind-matter dualism of Descartes to the iconoclasm of Nietzsche and Marx, from the existentialism of Sartre to the counterfeit reality of the Matrix movies, the split between man and maker has long been widening, and many acknowledged that the wedge was Science with a capital “S.” Specifi- cally, classical physics, with its mechanistic view of the cosmos, had cut God from man’s psyche, leaving in its postoperative haste an open wound of spiritual despair, tyranny, and endless war.
The truth is, both spirituality and science are essential to human beings and always have been. Strangely enough, the same scientific method that once compelled us to question the existence of God is now, by way of advanced physics and cosmology, developing evidence that tends to support our age-old belief in a transcendent power.
A sea change has occurred, though many readers of Time may not have oriented themselves yet to a quantum universe: where the same tiny particle may occupy two places at one time or react instantly to events light years away; where the net energy of the cosmos is zero, yet there is more energy in the vacuum of space than in all the stars; where physics is close to proving that material reality emerges from a common source, which I’ll refer to as the primary field. Is this the field where God has been at play all along? Can humankind tune in God’s frequency once again? I believe we can, in part by means of our own quantum leap in consciousness.
The ideas and observations I offer in the following pages surely cannot span the measure of that leap, for your own full participation is essential. Perhaps, though, my story will encourage you to take a further step on life’s greatest journey. (If you are reading this book, you’ve already embarked!)
This is the memoir of my quest for a new kind of faith. It is a faith in which mind and matter entwine, yet it is anchored in the empirical precepts of science. It is a belief system that says directed consciousness can promote spontaneous remission of a life-threatening disease, a personal quantum leap. It embraces a worldview wherein quantum leaps do occur, not just in the atomic and subatomic domain but in human existence itself— be it in the unfolding of an individual life, in a societal change, or in a country’s struggle for freedom.
I will not ask you to accept that view “on faith.” Let me offer a proof of it by way of my own life, starting at the point when I was the least certain of its meaning and value.
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Indian Instincts by Miniya Chatterji – An Excerpt
Miniya Chatterji is a prominent intellectual and speaker, writer and businesswoman. She is the CEO of Sustain Labs Paris. She has also worked at the World Economic Forum in Geneva, Goldman Sachs in London and in the office of the President of France in Paris. Her book, Indian Instincts: Essays on Freedom and Equality in India, presents an accessible yet brilliant intellectual treatise about issues that affect Indians the most. It is a must-read for anyone who wants to know what makes an Indian.
Let’s read an excerpt from this book.
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The reasons for Indians living abroad are not too different from those of our domestic migrants who leave their homes. Many have migrated abroad for jobs. Approximately half of the total migrants are women who have followed such men after marriage, which is often arranged with a boy of the parents’ choice, just like mine nearly was. Indian migrants have moved to high-income countries, and, as of 2015, they are concentrated the most in the UAE, which is inhabited by around 3.5 million Indians, and in the US, where around two million Indians live. Overall, it is in search of a better life—emotionally, socially, financially—that we leave. The fact that India produces the largest number of migrants in the world, but hosts only about 5.2 million international migrants is an indicator of where migrants perceive the environment is conducive for a better life. The Middle East has offered migrants jobs, the United States has beckoned to them with its universities, and they’ve been attracted to the quality of life in Europe, Singapore and Hong Kong. But in the future, a change of political or economic scenarios in these countries could alter the factors that attract migrants to them. We are witnessing this already in Indian migration to the US, where President Donald Trump’s anti-immigration policies have resulted in Indian migrants hesitating to go to the United States since January 2017, and a larger number of Indians now seeming more likely to choose to live in Europe. In the medium to long term, the overall number of Indians moving out of India will not drastically reduce if the environment offered by the destination country is no longer attractive; they will find another destination. It will reduce only if the living conditions for Indians in India improve. Unless the fundamental reasons and situations— often exacerbated by economic and social inequality—that drive us out of India change, we will continue to find new destinations to move to. Also, a more equitable society for the boys and the girls of this land, and the rich and the poor, irrespective of caste and ethnicity, will offer a meritocratic platform for us to strengthen our roots here in India. The strength of our roots will determine our commitment and attachment to being an important stakeholder in India’s future. It will not matter then whether we leave or stay, because strong roots do not mean that the tree cannot have branches that reach out to the sky. Quite the contrary. Exploration and attachment are related, and in fact, the latter is a prerequisite for the former.
About five decades ago, researchers observed fifty infants in a situation that was new and not too frightening. In some cases, the infant’s mother was present, in others, she had left, and in yet others, she was replaced by a stranger. They found that exploration was greatest when the mother was present. Observation of young apes and monkeys and other studies of human infants in similar experiments since then have all supported the view that successful exploration takes place, ironically, when there is secure attachment. The establishment of attachment is an instinctual priority. When it is absent, the need for attachment is dominant and we engage in attachment-searching behaviour similar to that of a baby, who is likely to cry or seek its mother. When we are attached to our city or country of origin, attachment can be taken for granted. In this case, just as an infant would feel free to move out of its crib knowing the mother is always present, we feel more secure in leaving our home base to explore the new and often frightening world. Exploring other lands clearly does not just mean physically living elsewhere. It means being curious about and getting emotionally involved in those places. Strong roots in our home base liberate us to explore or engage more meaningfully with the world. Lacking this, we will move in large numbers but spend less time exploring, instead seeking the missing mother (land) anxiously in a place where she does not exist.
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The Black Economy in India by Arun Kumar – An Excerpt
Arun Kumar taught economics at the Centre for Economic Studies and Planning, Jawaharlal Nehru University, Delhi, till 2015. He has a master’s degree in physics from Delhi University and Princeton University, USA, and a doctorate in economics from JNU. A ground-breaking book, The Black Economy in India in India shows how demonetization is not the way to end the black economy, since what India needs is to empower citizens and make leaders accountable.
Here’s an excerpt from the Prologue.
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The black economy is once again in the news because of the announcement of demonetization of the large-denomination currency notes. It is not that this is the first step that the present government has taken to tackle the black economy. It started its journey by forming a special investigation team (SIT) under a Supreme Court order in 2014. It has got the approval for many bills, for example, on Benami Property, Black Money held abroad and Income Declaration Scheme. But none of them had the same dramatic impact on the economy since they were not comparable in order of magnitude that demonetization is.
The present move will not be able to tackle the black economy but has the potential to devastate the economy. The impact on the poor, the farmers, workers and producers in the unorganized sectors has already been severe. Thus, it is impacting those who never generated black incomes or held much of the high denomination currency notes. According to reports, much of the high-denomination notes issued by the RBI are coming back into the banks. The implication is that those who held substantial black cash have managed to exchange their old notes for new ones. Thus, the culprits who were supposed to be punished by the demonetization have escaped while the innocent have been trapped into standing in queues or by unemployment.
The prime minister promised normalization in fifty days but that cannot happen since so much currency cannot be printed in such a short time. Not only will the currency shortage continue due to insufficient printing capacity but those with black money are first replenishing their coffers causing a shortage of cash available to the public. Further, hoarding is going on. Thus, the economy would suffer for much longer and irreversibilities have already set in, pushing the economy towards a recession.
All this happening in the context of the black economy has again brought this topic to the centre stage. Public curiosity/ awareness of the issue has suddenly increased by leaps and bounds. It is in this context that this book with a new prologue is being issued at this juncture. The prologue discusses the different remedies to tackle the black economy that have been attempted by the present government. It must also be said that the theoretical framework of the book remains as valid today as it did in 1999. In fact, there is a section on demonetization in the book which had argued against taking such a step for precisely the reasons that are playing out today.
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Cheaters by Novoneel Chakraborty – An Excerpt
Novoneel Chakraborty is the bestselling author of ten romantic thriller novels. His novel Forget Me Not, Stranger debuted as the No. 1 bestseller across India. Known for his twists, dark plots and strong female protagonists, Novoneel is referred to as the Sidney Sheldon of India by his readers. His latest book, Cheaters, tells nine short stories of infidelity in today’s times when societal norms are still the same-archaic.
Here’s an excerpt from this gripping read.
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Alarm four: 4 p.m.
It struck me last morning when Atulit and I had prolonged toe-curling, stomach-churning and emotionally draining sex. I had an arranged marriage. I didn’t know my husband well enough before getting into bed with him. There was an undeniable restraint in me, which he negated with a subtle force from his side. I think it was necessary else I wouldn’t have been able to do anything at all. Was I comfortable? That’s a different story. Although unknowingly, but it happened differently with Atulit. We chatted and at times talked over the phone. By the time I met him, I felt that I knew him. This knowledge produced a certain comfort during our sexual tryst the previous morning. We always judge people on the basis of their sexual preferences and practices in spite of knowing that emotions are all that matters. I didn’t fly to Gurugram for sex. If it was only about sex, I could have done it in Kolkata itself and nobody would’ve ever known. This vacation was intended for other purposes: to believe that I can still be desired by someone other than my husband, that there is more to life than my family, that I’m not a victim of nuptial attachments, that I can live a different life without upsetting the equilibrium associated with my roles as a wife, mother, daughter-in-law. I managed to help Mini complete her homework via a video call. I updated my husband last night about my fake friend’s health status, asked him about everyone at home. Even though I lied, I didn’t compromise my duties. And I feel good about it. Honestly, I had my doubts about Atulit. Had he come across as predatory, I would have left immediately. But thankfully he wasn’t anything like that. We had dinner at this lovely Burmese restaurant called Burma Burma in Cyber Hub. He is quite chatty, which I like. I know he is trying to impress me. I’ve also distinguished a hint of awe in the way he looks at me; he is chivalrous and gives utmost importance to my comfort. I feel so damn alive. Sometimes I think that a little attention and care are we all need. But I know for sure that if our dalliance stretches beyond a week, Atulit’s adoration will start fading. And he too might turn into my husband. How I wish we can forever remain elusive to our domestic partners. But then I also know that that’s the essence of a domestic relationship: the mundane and the monotonous. We are all emotional explorers deep inside. Some are easy to pacify and some aren’t. For the last twelve years I had been itching for an exploration and I’m happy that I’m having it now.
We went for a movie and then had lunch at his favourite restaurant in Connaught Place. He wanted to take selfies but when I told him that pictures make me uncomfortable, he didn’t insist. He wanted to shop for me as well but I was strict. I couldn’t allow him to do that. Maybe he doesn’t know that I flew to New Delhi not for him, but for myself. I won’t blame him if he interprets my visit as something that I’m doing for us. By the time this ends he will hate me forever. I know it. And still I am okay. For once I’m being selfish. If that’s the price I have to pay for being myself, for once, I guess I’m okay with it. We came back to Gurugram. Atulit wanted to take me to an amusement park. But I reminded him that I’ll have to be at his flat. The alarm beeps. It’s time to go on a video call with Mini. I need to finish her homework. I can sense Atulit’s irritation, but he says, ‘After that whatever I say. Okay?’ I smile and nod. I’ll be back to this reality in a few hours, I tell myself.
For over forty hours, we haven’t left the apartment. I’ve been the centre of his attention. It feels so good to mean something to someone, even if it is just for a day or a week. I feel like a word which kept wondering about its existence till it read its meaning in the dictionary. Atulit, for now, is my dictionary, where I read about different meanings of myself. It’s funny how different people help you realize different meanings of yourself. My husband, at the beginning of our marriage, had a completely different meaning, or idea, of me. He was always trying to be mischievous with me. I enjoyed it too. But I don’t know when it simply ebbed away. Nowadays, we go without sex for months without even telling each other, ‘Listen, we should do it. It has been long.’
Relationships are like a bag full of gifts. The moment we get it we are excited to open it. But after we find out what the gifts are, the excitement fades. My husband and I are past the initial, exciting stage. But with Atulit, I’ve only just started. In between our love making, I look at him and smile to myself. He once asked me to leave my family and be with him. He is so naïve. He really thinks it is that easy to leave everything. He actually thinks I’m with him because I’m done with my family. No! This isn’t a runaway scenario. Nor is it an escapist module. This is just a vacation. And vacations are meant to be temporary. They are meant to rejuvenate you. Perhaps prepare you well so you can take on the monotony of life again. But I don’t tell Atulit anything. I keep nodding whenever he talks about our future. I only make sure I am not misleading him with false hope and fake promises.
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10 instances that define the evolution of Indian Cinema since 1947
India Since 1947: The Independent Years, takes us through the events, personalities and changes that have shaped the country in the seventy years since independence. Arranged chronologically, India since 1947 covers a wide range of topics, from agriculture, archaeology and the arts to science and technology, sports and wars, and everything else in between.
Let us read 10 interesting facts about the Indian Cinema since 1947.
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1. 1949
2. 1959
3. 1969
4. 1971
5. 1986
6. 1988
7. 1995
8. 2000
9. 2003
10. 2004
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5 James Patterson books that are a must-read
James Patterson is a legend when it comes to thriller novels. He has created not only some memorable characters like Alex Cross and Michael Bennet, but also has some exciting series like the Middle School series, Women’s Murder Club in his kitty.
A writer for all age groups, here are five books you should read by the author.
The People vs Alex Cross
In this engaging thriller, Alex Cross finds himself on the wrong side of law. Charged with the murder of his nemesis, Cross is being portrayed as one of the trigger-happy cops who think they’re above the law. Cross knows his crime was an act of self-defense but will the jury see his view? This trial will keep you hooked till the last page.
Along Came A Spider
![Along Came a Spider: (Alex Cross 1) by [Patterson, James]](https://images-eu.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51gVeKl1i%2BL._SY346_.jpg)
Two children have been kidnapped by their maths teacher, a man named Gary Soneji. Alex Cross is tasked with finding the kids but as he goes in deeper in the world of the kidnapper, he will find out that things are different than what it seems.
Hunted
Co-written with Andrew Holmes, this riveting thriller is about former SAS Agent David Shelley who goes looking for an old friend and finds him dead. Shelley can only find the truth behind his friend’s death if he puts himself in the same dangers as his friend. Will Shelley get to the truth? There’s only one way to find out.
Zoo
![Zoo (Zoo Series Book 1) by [Patterson, James]](https://images-eu.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/61fKB-HzqQL._SY346_.jpg)
What happens when the animals take over? Jackson Oz, a young biologist watches vicious animal attacks with an increasing sense of dread. As the attacks grow in ferocity, Oz with the help of ecologist Chloe Tousignant, races to warn world leaders before it’s too late. Will he able to stop it or will there be no place left for the humans to hide?
The Trial
![The Trial: BookShots (A Women’s Murder Club Thriller Book 1) by [Patterson, James]](https://images-eu.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/5187iABLqnL._SY346_.jpg)
Women’s Murder Club’s Detective Lindsay Boxer has finally managed to capture the drug cartel boss who has been tormenting her for months. He has threatened to unleash violence on everyone involved in the case, the whole city is paralysed and the Murder Club is caught in the eye of the storm. What happens next? Read and find out!
Intrigued yet? Tell us what you think of James Patterson’s works in the comments below.
5 Times Leila Seth Struck A Perfect Balance Between the Home and the World
Leila Seth was the first woman judge of the Delhi High Court and the first woman to be a Chief Justice of a state in India. She was responsible for the report on Free and Compulsory Education of Children. In this autobiography, On Balance: An Autobiography, Leila talks about life’s joyous as well as its difficult moments.
Let’s look at 5 charming and often amusing vignettes from her life.
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Beyond the Last Blue Mountain by R.M. Lala – An Excerpt
Written by Russi M. Lala with J.R.D. Tata’s co-operation, this superb biography tells the JRD story from his birth to 1993, the year in which he died in Switzerland. Divided into four parts, the book explores all the most important aspects of JRD’s life.
Here’s an excerpt from the book.
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Jehangir, later to be called Jeh, recalls his early years: ‘My childhood and youth, so different from those of the average middle class Parsee, were mainly conditioned by the fact that my father had married a Frenchwoman, and we spent half of our early years in Paris and half in Bombay. My father loved life in France, French food and wines, and because my mother was at first not familiar with the English language, the language used by all of us was French. What I remember most vividly is that we always seemed to be on the move, and that my lovely and cultured mother had to uproot herself every two years or so to find a new home—alternately in France and in India. With servants and office help available in India, her task whenever we arrived in India or left was relatively simple. But in France, where our domestic help consisted of never more than a maid and a cook, the job of finding a new apartment, furnishing it while looking after her growing brood—there were five of us—represented a real chore which she accomplished with amazing efficiency and apparent ease but at the cost of much fatiguing work.’
One of the problems Jehangir faced early was of language, brought about by his mixed heritage: ‘When I attended one of the government schools in Paris, the Janson De Sailly, I was a much better student in French than I was in English at the Cathedral School in Bombay.’
The language barrier was considerable; in addition, Cathedral School in Bombay bored him. He saw no reason why he should learn British history. ‘I used to ask “But what happened in India?” I have a good recollection of asking: “What about Aurangzeb?” and being smacked down. I don’t know why I chose Aurangzeb!’ Maths and Physics interested him.
‘My first important memories from the point of view of a growing child, blessed with a fairly observant and inquisitive mind, were about cars and aeroplanes. My father decided that we needed a home of our own in which to spend our holidays, and he picked on a new and developing beach resort on the Channel coast of France, south of Boulogne, called Hardelot, where he not only bought a villa but later on built a number of villas and shops as a real estate developer. In fact, one of the two main streets of Hardelot was officially named Avenue des Indes.
‘It happened that the legendary Louis Bleriot, who acquired world fame in 1909 by being the first to fly a plane across the Channel, also chose Hardelot for his family’s summer resort. Bleriot built not only a fine villa close to ours but also a hangar near the beach. On the beach his personal plane used to land much to the excitement of everyone there—grown ups and children, none more starry-eyed than myself. From then on I was hopelessly hooked on aeroplanes and made up my mind that, come what may, one day I would be a pilot. I had to wait many years for that dream to come true.’
R.D. perhaps felt that his family members were more comfortable in France and kept all of them there. Sooni wrote almost daily to him and he— even with his busy schedule–dropped endearing notes and picture postcards to his wife and children. Sooni mailed her husband frequent postcards in French written in Gujarati script. No prying eye could understand it! After Sylla and Jehangir a daughter, Rodabeh, was born in 1909 and a son, Darab, in 1912. In 1916, Jimmy, her last child, was born in Bombay.
