What You Don't Want Is Always Going

One Chronicler Writes Of An Area Of India During The End Of The 20th Century: Almost No-one In This Slum Was Poor By Indian Benchmarks. ... True, A Few Residents Trapped Rats And Frogs And Fried Them For Dinner. A Few Ate The Scrub Grass At The Sewage Lake Edge. And These Individuals, Miserable Souls, Thereby Made An Inestimable Contribution To Their Neighbors. They Gave Those Slum Dwellers Who Didn't Fry Rats And Eat Weeds A Sense Of Their Upward Mobility.

I Think It's This Congenital Problem With Journalism That We Oversell The Difference We Make. We Make Small Differences.

In My Kind Of Reporting Work, You Don't Parachute In After Some Big, Terrible Event, Which Is Important And Has To Be Covered, But Offers Only A Glimpse. It's The Kind Of Work In Which You Ask, What Is My Understanding Of How The World Works, And Where Can I Go To See These Questions Get Worked Out In Individuals' Lives? That Was Really The Question For Me: Whether I Had Anything To Add To What Had Already Been Written.

People Naturally Long For A Bit Of The Wealth That Is Whorling All Around Them, And If The Work And Education Available To Them Won't Get Them Closer To The Comforts That They See Others Enjoying, The Temptation To Take Shortcuts Can Be Fierce.

The Indian Criminal Justice System Was A Market Like Garbage, Abdul Now Understood. Innocence And Guilt Could Be Bought And Sold Like A Kilo Of Polyurethane Bags.