My Short Love Story for Arundhati Roy

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My Short Love Story for Arundhati Roy

Illustration: Akshita Monga

T

he first thing I saw was her ankle. Dainty, adorned with a heavy silver bell. Then, more of her emerged from an autorickshaw. A flowing ethnic skirt, a face that made your heart stop, and hair, my God… hair as wild as a feral child in July.

If ever there was love at first sight, this was it. As I stubbed out my benumbed cigarette on the sunny lawns of the Jamia Mass Communication Research Centre in Delhi, I realised my life had changed. I was transported. I was in love. And in trouble.

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