THIRTY YEARS AGO THIS MONTH.
That’s when it happened.
The things that I want to tell you more about. The event that I alluded to when NPR host Frank Stasio asked me about it in this interview.
The friend who ‘didn’t come back.’
What happened, why did it happen, what if it hadn’t happened?
These questions led to 30 years of running around the world “in search of meaning.”
Opened up new queries, the secondhand tiers of that pull you to the existential books on the shelves in libraries, entice you to the Himalaya just to see the moon rise. To look at the stars. To ask the Sheltering Sky things that only it might know. Kismuth means ‘destiny’ in my parents’—and her parents’—native language, Hindi.
A lifetime of search, of query.
Thinking out loud, in letters, stories, columns, and sometimes, in books.
I want to tell the final story in the series Kismuth.
Kanishka—coming this month—is Volume I. Yes, I started with Volume II when I launched The Elopement in 2012. I just wasn’t ready yet to tell Kanishka right. Now, though. Thirty years after this tragedy shook the psyche of other 10 year-olds who, like me, wondered what had happened to our dear and no-longer-with-us friend, I’ll share the words I think are right.
This story is for –.
For pre-orders, please go here: Kanishka on Gumroad >