Old Aunt Girish

I was twelve or perhaps thirteen when, for reasons I find difficult to recall today, I picked up a copy of The World According to Garp. A few days later an officious grandaunt happened to be visiting. Pornography, she declared, as soon as she caught sight of the book in my hand. A distant memory, but resurrected by Girish Karnad’s outrage at the lifetime literary award...

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