![]() ![]() ![]() But Ormus and Vina and I, we couldn’t accept that, we came loose. In India, that place obsessed by place, belonging-to-your-place, we are mostly given that territory, and that’s that, no arguments, get on with it. We find ground on which to make our stand. Each character hopes to find where they belong and who they belong with: So much of the book is about belonging, whether or not that’s within the universe of art or society at large. Later they’ll be reading on the train or on the road or under the sea only to find themselves basking in its warmth The ground beneath her feet is a book that lets you drink bountiful, replenishing slurps from its innards wherever you are. Salman Rushdie’s musical opus, The ground beneath her feet, is one of a few select books that I want to slip into my friends’ backpacks, or hide in their bookshelf, or scatter copies under their beds until they must eventually concede. ![]()
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