Jesteśmy społecznością, która kocha książki

That February, Delhi seemed like a paradise. Olivia and I filled the garden on our roof terraces with palms and lilies and hollyhocks and we wove bougainvillae through the trellising. The plants which seemed to have die during the winter's cold -the snapdragon, the hibiscus and the frangipani -miraculously change: the wood-smoke and the sweet smell of the dung fires gave way to the heady scent of Indian champa and the first bittersweet whiffs of China orange blossom.

Ali stepped out on to the pavement and made disdainful gesture out over the street: ' Look! This city is now so dirty. Everything is old and falling down. Why should I stay in a place like this? One day I will leave and go to Bombay. Delhi is finished.

But on balance i think you must never take land away from a people . A a people's land has a mystique. You can go and possibly order them about for a bit, perhaps introduce some new ideas, built a few good buildings, but then in the end you must go away and die in Cheltenham.' Iris sighed. ' And that, of course, is exactly what we did.

As Mr Prashad explained when we were leaving: 'You see actually in India today no one is thinking too much about these old historical places. India is a developing country. Our people are looking to the future only.

In an enamel tray in front of the hakim lay a collection of surgical instruments which looked as if they might have escaped from the Roman artefact room in British Museum.