From the memoir-travelogue: Manav Kaul writes about meeting an enchanting stranger at a London cafe
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The next day, the weather in London changed suddenly. Golden sunlight covered everything. I was sitting outside Paul Cafe at Gloucester Road, trying to put the darkness of the past into words. To sit in this beautiful sunlight and write about the darkness of the last few days was making the sunlight that much more beautiful. But after I had written it all down and read it in the sunlight, it all rang hollow. Again and again, I’d type, read and delete the same sentences. My life lay in front of me like a tangled mess of wet thread and I was trying to find one of the ends – then there’d at least be an opportunity to untangle it all.
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My coffee had gone cold. I was just thinking about ordering another when the waitress came by to take the cup away. I asked her for another. She acknowledged the request and was picking up the cold cup when she saw the laptop screen. “What the hell is this?” she blurted out. I couldn’t help but laugh at her surprise. I told her that it’s Hindi, and that I’m a Hindi writer. She sat down next to me, staring at the...