Dear Mr. Warren Anderson, I hope this letter finds you (as no one else seems to be able to) and finds you well. Give my regards to your family. How fortunate for them to have a man of integrity, honour and stature as their patriarch. There is so much I need to tell you Mr. Anderson, I don’t know where to begin. Since you left in a tearing hurry (again, not in accordance with Indian customs may I add, we value our guests), a lot has changed. India has grown leaps and bounds. You should come and see it Mr. Anderson, you wouldn’t recognise it. And while we are at it, here are some other things you won’t recognise. Little Sonu. His eyes have gone into his face. His legs are crippled. His sister has been given a better deal. All her limbs are intact. But she does not have the sight to appreciate them. You must see them Mr. Anderson. They could do with an arm around their shoulder. We can take a leisurely stroll down and peep into Sita Bhabi’s house. She was ostracized b...