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Honestly, it has always bothered me. The Indian writing in English (particularly of the diaspora). I can see people going into exacting details about the nuances and sights and smells….its cloying. There is something shriekingly Indian about it – like we are not fine just being in our own skin that we need to overtly display it in every sentence with the haldi, the masala, paan, the works. There are very few writers whose works work for me, and most of the others I just prefer to avoid. I can’t abide the nostalgia, the sense of what could have been and the mysticism. And often the not-so-subtle desire for social change that makes it just so oppressive. It doesn’t make us respond or emote better if we read exhaustive descriptions of the sights smells and sounds of the neighbours. I wonder when we can actually just drop the clinging to desiness and culture and just start relaxing – in being, naturally who we are: urban Indians, global citizens.

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