On my last week in India, I went to say goodbye to Jahiruddin Mewati, the chief of a small village where I had made a dozen or so reporting trips. Jahiruddin and I were not precisely friends, but we had spent many hours talking over the years, mostly about local politics. I found him entirely without scruples but candid. He suspected my motives but found me entertaining, in the way that a talking dog might be entertaining, without regard for the particulars of what I said. Jahiruddin, though uneducated, was an adept politician, fresh from winning a hard-fought local ...
How to get away with murder in small-town India
In my line of work, there are few things as gratifying as catching someone in a lie
Ellen Barry | NYT Last Updated at August 22, 2017 09:39 IST