No Onions Nor Garlic
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and Nation and Literature and so on, are of strictly questionable provenance nowadays, and not to be mentioned in public without the scare-quote arabesque on either side of them. As any academic will tell you, this arabesque is very tough on the finger-joints. At last the clock struck ten, and the academics filed into the hall. They looked more enthusiastic than conferees usually look on these occasions, because they were under the impression that they were going to get an eyeful of the sadist
but a magnificent escarpment, a continental shelf that made her look as if she wore a double-thickness Kevlar vest, the kind of bosom, in short, in which all the most beauteous actresses of the Seventies rejoiced. ‘It is no use, I am buying ten tubes on the discount offer, but my Uma will not take so much as an iota to her skin. You should talk to her. She is such a difficult girl,’ Sachu sighed. ‘You will not believe how troublesome she is, saying she will not do this, she will not do that.
changed. As for Vaithy, it was a good thing for one and all that his helmet’s visor cast his face into deep shadow, for the fiendish rictus he wore made him look like one of those hollow pumpkin gargoyles people put on the tops of new buildings to stave off the evil eye. ‘And this is my husband’s mother. My husband’s father is just finishing his pujai. This is my older son, Kicha, and this is my daughter-in-law, Chitra.’ There was much taking off of slippers and fussing with baskets of fruit.
the thought. He left the socks on the floor beside his desk for the nonce. Then he took up pen, ruler and paper to make his list of suspects: Name Motive Opportunity Laurentia Arul Hates me, hates all my ideals, a low-caste person Can come into my office any time she wishes, esp. during my classes. Capable of anything Jiva Hates me (?) Active member of miguided campus groups, motiveless malignity, a Harijan girl Can come into my office when she is here to see me about her thesis.
you’re being forced to—you know, for your sister’s sake. You don’t marry me—you ruin her life. That kind of blackmail. Right?’ ‘No,’ said Sundar, without conviction. ‘No.’ ‘I think Uma’s really hot, by the way. I just can’t figure it out—what do you think of Chunky?’ she asked. ‘Er—I don’t know,’ said Sundar. ‘He’s so cheap he steals plastic cutlery from other people’s trays during international flights. I know, his ex-wife Lakshmi told me. He’s always running after white pussy, but he’s