I have said everything that I could possibly say. There’s nothing else left.

One would expect a Hindustani classical singer who is known to have one of the most melodious voices in the world to have an equally mellifluous speaking voice, one that would charm a

Martin Luther King III’s third visit to India started off on a wrong note, with his luggage not accompanying him to his hotel and being sent somewhere else instead.

Imagine this: You’re walking down a typical Mumbai street, teeming with people. You brush past a man whose appearance is thoroughly forgettable, nondescript being the only possible description. Nothing about the man registers in your mind. You walk on. The man goes on to meet a high-ranking police officer, who then busts a huge underworld racket.