Arundhating
from Vogue
20 Years After The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy on The Ministry of Utmost Happiness
On the top floor of a small building on a quiet lane in central Delhi, the writer Arundhati Roy greets me at the door of her apartment, accompanied by two eagerly barking dogs, whose names, she tells me, translate as Mrs. Filthy Darling and Beloved of the Earth. “Filth and Dirt,” Roy says cheerfully as she welcomes me into her large, sunny kitchen and starts making coffee in an Italian moka pot—“It’ll be weak, South Indian–style, OK?” she says with a laugh.
With its high ceilings, bookcase-lined walls, and political posters (one shows a bobby with a beat stick: SEDITION PROTECTS DEMOCRACY), her apartment has the airy yet lived-in feel of an artist’s loft. I take a seat at a farmhouse table, near a vase of exceedingly tall, bright-orange lilies. Roy is wearing a crisp, cream-colored salwar kameez with matching dupatta. When I comment on her stylishness she says, “I run away from tradition, I run away from modernity, and then—you find your own space.”
from the New Yorker Times
by Joan Acocella
Comments
Post a Comment