The Tipsy Professor

The Tipsy Professor

Ink drawing of a bearded man in a cream field jacket, drinking from a paper cup and looking off to one side.

Between the second coffee and the first drink: essays in the wrong order, notes, arguments, and whatever I overheard on the way.

On the counter

most recently poured

At the next table

every conversation →

The rest of the round

see the full run →

AI-generated painting of an ornamented elephant on the ghats of Varanasi at sunrise, its body painted like an old manuscript with Lucknow's Rumi Darwaza, the burning ghats and boats on the Ganga, farmers among poppies, and steam trains around its legs, with marigolds on the steps and the Ashoka lion capital in the corner.

The Elephant Who Says Pehle Aap

One in every six Indians lives in Uttar Pradesh. It gave the country most of its prime ministers, both of its great literary languages of the north, the city where Hindus go to die and the park where the Buddha first taught. It also gave it Hashimpura, the Babri Masjid, a vocabulary of gangsters and a word, "bhaiya", that other Indians do not always mean kindly. A long, personal look at the state I grew up in, and at what it made of me.

Arguments

Can’t choose