India

The war on Christians

Imagine if correspondents in late 1944 had reported the Battle of the Bulge, but without explaining that it was a turning point in the second world war. Or what if finance reporters had told the story of the AIG meltdown in 2008 without adding that it raised questions about derivatives and sub-prime mortgages that could augur a vast financial implosion? Most people would say that journalists had failed to provide the proper context to understand the news. Yet that’s routinely what media outlets do when it comes to outbreaks of anti-Christian persecution around the world, which is why the global war on Christians remains the greatest story never told of

Interview with a writer: Jhumpa Lahiri, author of Booker longlisted The Lowland

The Lowland is the magnificent new novel by Jhumpa Lahiri, which has been longlisted for this year’s Man Booker prize. It tells the story of two brothers, Subhash and Udayan, who come of age in Calcutta in the late 1960s. ‘Subhash was thirteen, older by fifteen months. But he had no sense of himself without Udayan. From his earliest memories, at every point, his brother was there,’ writes Lahiri. This was the beginning of a troubled period in West Bengal, as a radical communist movement known as the Naxalite cause swept through the region, inciting idealistic young men, in particular, to violence and acts of terror. While Udayan becomes caught

Amartya Sen interview: India must fulfil Tagore’s vision, not Gandhi’s

Amartya Sen is Thomas W. Lamont University Professor and Professor of Economics and Philosophy at Harvard University. Sen’s previous books include: Development as Freedom; Rationality and Freedom; The Argumentative Indian; Identity and Violence, and The Idea of Justice. In 1998 Sen won the Nobel Prize in Economics. Much of the work done by the Indian economist has focused on poverty, specifically looking at developing new methods to predict and fight famines. His research also discusses ways to measure poverty, so that more effective social programs can be designed to prevent it. Sen has recently co-written a book with fellow economist, Jean Drèze, called An Uncertain Glory: India and its Contradictions.

Alex Massie

Very, Very Special: An Appreciation of VVS Laxman – Spectator Blogs

And then there was one.  Of the four princes who made India the world’s best side to watch in the first decade of the 21st century, only Sachin Tendulkar – the first and greatest of them – remains. Saurav Ganguly, the tiger of Bengal, was first to leave the arena. Rahul Dravid, the classicist, departed last year. Now Vangipurappu Venkata Sai Laxman, the most artistic member of India’s most formidable quartet, has announced his retirement from international cricket. As Cardus (who else?) wrote of Ranji, Laxman distributed his runs as largesse delivered in silk purses. If he could not claim Ranji’s aristocratic lineage, he was still, even in his own

Two riveting journeys to the heart of India and Pakistan

50 summers have passed since C.L.R. James asked, ‘What do they know of cricket who only cricket know?’ James’s belief, that this quaint game reveals profound truths of those who play and love it, is alive and well: evident in The Great Tamasha by James Astill, which describes India, and Cricket Cauldron by Shaharyar M. Khan, which fumigates Pakistan. Astill, who is a Raja at The Economist, tells the story of India’s turbulent rise with reference to the history of cricket in India, where the sport is a form of entertainment – or tamasha, as numerous sub-continental languages have it. Astill is a self-confessed ‘cricket tragic’ but he is good company nonetheless, with

Melissa Kite: Should I date the Flemish tuna merchant in Bombay?

The Indian bellboy was sweetness and courtesy itself as he took my bags and escorted me to my room. But even he, with his impeccable manners, could not disguise his horror at my appearance. The word dishevelled doesn’t do it justice. My hair was standing on end, my clothes were rumpled, my eyes were red and puffy — the result of all the crying and tossing and turning I had done on the eight-hour flight. Understandably, the Oberoi is not used to welcoming guests who look as if they have made the journey in a cattle truck. Having known me for only 15 seconds, the bellboy couldn’t help himself: ‘Ma’am,’

Can’t Bat, Can’t Bowl, Can’t Field: Is this the worst Australian cricket team ever?

Stuart Law. Darren Lehmann. Jamie Cox. Phil Jaques. Brad Hodge. Michael di Venuto. Chris Rogers. Martin Love. Tom Moody. Nine men who count as some of the unluckiest cricketers ever produced by Australia. Each of them scored more than 50 first-class centuries; none of them won more than a handful of test caps. They had the misfortune to be the contemporaries of the Waugh brothers, Ricky Ponting, Matthew Hayden, Justin Langer, Damien Martyn, Mike Hussey and so on. Such was Australia’s strength in depth in what Gideon Haigh neatly termed the Green and Golden Age that none of these nine ever commanded a regular place in the test team. All

The pleasure of reading Rumer Godden’s India

Rumer Godden’s prose tugs two ways at once. It is subtle, descriptive, and light, but also direct and unashamed of being turned inside out until darkness consumes it, rendering what was beautiful irrelevant and suddenly opaque. There is also a lot of it. Rumer Godden OBE (1907-1998) wrote over sixty works of fiction and non-fiction over a lifetime divided between England, where she was born, India, where she spent much of her young adulthood, and Scotland, where she lived for the last twenty years of her life. Godden’s three best-known novels, Black Narcissus, Breakfast with the Nikolides, and Kingfishers Catch Fire are set in India. Flickering with the awe and

Welcome to India, Mr Camerooon: how the PM fared with the local media

How did David Cameron fare with the local media on this week’s trip to India? The third day of his trip attracted the most headlines, when he visited Amritsar. If Mr Cameron, described as ‘Mr Camerooon’ by one enthusiastic TV journalist, and reportedly introduced as James Cameron by another, didn’t have a high profile amongst Indians at the start of his trip, this one act ensured otherwise. After he’d talked trade with business leaders, met a Bollywood star and performed the obligatory cricket photo opp,  he headed to Amritsar, to Jallianwala Bagh, the scene of a massacre which is etched in India’s history. It was here, in 1919, that hundreds of

David Cameron’s Immigration Reverse Ferret

If you seek cheap entertainment, the sight of government ministers defending their immigration policies to the foreign press is always worth a sardonic chuckle or two. And, lo, it came to pass that David Cameron assured Indian TV that, actually and despite the impression his coalition may have given, Her Britannic Majesty’s government is jolly keen on bright young Indians coming to the United Kingdom. Which is just as well. If, as the Prime Minister is keen on suggesting, Britain is but one entrant in a keenly competitive “global race” then it makes no sense at all to restrict our selection policy to those born on these sodden islands. The

Cricket’s the loser

Cricket glorifies some cheats. W.G. Grace often batted on after being clean bowled; such was the public demand to watch him. Douglas Jardine’s bodyline tactics revolutionised fast bowling: eventually making it acceptable to target the batsman rather than the wicket. Fielders “work” the ball. Batsmen stand their ground when convention asks them to walk. Cheating is part of cricket. But match fixing? The culprits live forever in infamy, and deservedly so. The cricketing authorities (the ICC) believed that match fixing had died ten years ago; but the News of the World’s sting on the Pakistan team in 2010 demolished those hopes. The sting suggested that the problem was deep. Rumours

I spy spice

Two thousand spice lovers crossed the river last night for the enormous British Curry Awards at Battersea Evolution. Between dousing my tongue with milk to calm the fiery dishes, I chatted about Leveson with the Justice Secretary and adoption with the leader of UKIP. The former was coy, the latter seething. Other political heavies braved the curries’ heat: a dinner jacket-less Patrick McLoughlin sat at a top table, as did Francis Maude, who was wearing a tie for a change. Maude was not too chatty with Nigel Farage; but sources close to the pinstriped-one say that Grayling was much friendlier. The Justice Secretary went through a limited but subtly different range of facial expressions: polite bewilderment

Boris in Bollywood

So Cameron is making his mark on the EU budget, Gove has caused a stir with his Leveson remarks, and Osborne is prepping for his Autumn Statement. No matter. As usual, Boris is marching to the beat of his own cinematic drummer. He’s going to Bollywood, on an India trip many interpret as an effort to project himself as a future world leader. The Mayor of London is visiting Delhi, Hyderabad and Mumbai, where he will appear on a top TV chat show and visit Bollywood studios. It is couched as a trade mission – ‘London loves India,’ he is quoted in the Hindustan Times as saying – but many

Pranab Mukherjee’s potential as president

Congress party Pranab Mukherjee’s victory in the Indian presidential election this week allowed the party to exhale for a nanosecond amid the gloom of stalled economic reform and political paralysis. As the country watched the pomp and pageantry of the presidential swearing-in today, the tectonic plates of power in India started to shift again. The Indian National Congress Party, the ruling coalition UPA’s majority stakeholder, has managed to rewind to 15 years ago. When Sonia Gandhi took on the presidency of the near-dead party in 1998, it resuscitated and took power; first in 2004, then 2009. It is now withering. Perhaps if Congress were not so weak, shrewd tactician Mukherjee would

Mukherjee can’t change India’s political paralysis

The Indian president lives in a Lutyens palace formerly occupied by the country’s viceroys, replete with ballroom, cinema, and Mughal gardens. I’ve been inside to interview the current incumbent, Pratibha Patil. With 360 rooms, it’s a big house for a small person and you can get lost – indeed recently, Patil reportedly did go missing for three hours until located by a team of commandos. The Head of State is somewhat removed from the cut and thrust of Indian politics so presidential candidate Pranab Mukherjee is looking forward to relaxing  there after the election on July 19, 2012.  Like an endlessly sliding Sid the Sloth in Ice Age, The Congress-led

Spirit of Roedean

Ursula Graham Bower belonged to the last generation of those well-bred missy-sahibs who came out to India at the start of the cold-weather season in search of genteel adventure and a husband. But unbeknown both to herself and to those about her, the gawky, ‘well-covered’, Roedean-educated Miss Bower was of that stern stuff upon which empires are built. Having arrived at a frontier outpost of Assam in the autumn of 1937 as the 24-year-old guest of a friend housekeeping for her elder brother, she set about carving out her own niche as an anthropologist. Her chosen subject was the Nagas, a lose confederation of tribes much given to raiding and

100 x 100

Well he’s done it. At last. Surprisingly, this was Sachin Tendulkar’s first ODI century against Bangladesh. One hundred international hundreds – 51 in test cricket and 49 in the abbreviated game – is an achievement so astonishing it becomes mesmerising the more time you spend contemplating it. Better still, however, is the fact that it is impossible to imagine how anyone who loves cricket can fail to be pleased today. Tendulkar is a rare creature: a master without enemies or begrudgers. Everyone likes him; everyone feels a little protective of the Little Master. And so we should for we will not see anyone match this mark in many a year.

Rahul Dravid’s Exceptionalism

I wrote about the great man here, but cricket-minded readers should also scamper to Cricinfo to read Ed Smith’s reflection on his former Kent team-mate. This is the telling passage: What a brilliant inversion of the usual myth told by professional sportsmen: that they had unexceptional talent and made it to the top only because they worked harder. Dravid spoke the truth. Yes, he worked hard. But the hard work was driven by the desire to give full expression to a God-given talent. Emphasis added. Smith could have gone further: this isn’t just the “inversion of the usual myth told by professional sportsmen”, it is, more importantly, unusually modest and

Farewell, Rahul Dravid

Rahul Dravid’s retirement, announced with typical elegance today, is not just a sad business because it means we’ll never see the great technician again but because it is the beginning of the end of India’s greatest generation. I think it is possible to argue that Dravid, Sachin Tendulkar and VVS Laxman have been the finest batting trio since Worrell, Weekes and Walcott bestrode the West Indian stage in the 1950s. There have been other great batsman, of course, but few trios whose achievements are quite so inextricably linked or whose careers have overlapped quite so completely. Add, at various times, Saurav Ganguly and Virender Sehwag to the mix and you

Spiritual superhero

When totting up the positives from the British Raj, people often put the railways first, followed by the Indian Civil Service or the Indian Army. The Empire was won by the sword and held by the sword. It was racially exclusive, its taxes were often predatory, and its punishments savage. But at least it left an institutional legacy that helped to make independent India a startling success against all the odds, after the bloody wound of Partition and despite the excruciating poverty of the second most populous nation on earth. But what the British bequeathed to India was not only a usable future but a usable past. This may sound