It Has Had A Calamitous Effect On

All The Things That Were Read To Me By My Father Were Stories About Things Becoming All Right.

Out Of Its Squalor And Human Decay, Its Eruptions Of Butchery, India Produced So Many People Of Grace And Beauty, Ruled By Elaborate Courtesy. Producing Too Much Life, It Denied The Value Of Life; Yet It Permitted A Unique Human Development To So Many. Nowhere Were People So Heightened, Rounded And Individualistic; Nowhere Did They Offer Themselves So Fully And With Such Assurance. To Know Indians Was To Take A Delight In People As People; Every Encounter Was An Adventure. I Did Not Want India To Sink [out Of My Memory]; The Mere Thought Was Painful.

I Don't Feel I Can Speak With Authority For Many Other People.

Where Jargon Turns Living Issues Into Abstractions, And Where Jargon Ends By Competing With Jargon, People Don't Have Causes. They Only Have Enemies.

We Made No Inquiries About India Or About The Families People Had Left Behind. When Our Ways Of Thinking Had Changed, And We Wished To Know, It Was Too Late. I Know Nothing Of The People On My Father's Side; I Know Only That Some Of Them Came From Nepal