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The Tragedy of the Himalayas by Bryan Walsh

The road to Khardung La begins in the Indian town of Leh on the northwestern fringe of the Himalayas. Exhaust-spewing army trucks rattle up the side of dry rock, past Buddhist monasteries clinging to the craggy mountainside and alongside small farms barely scraping fertility from the earth. Khardung La, the highest motorable mountain pass in the world, is more than 18,000 ft. above sea level, the air so thin that...

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The Ground Beneath Our Feet by Tripti Lahiri

CITIES MAKE one simple promise to newcomers: Sacrifice yourself to me and your children shall prosper. This promise drew Ahmed Raza, a small-time wrestler from an Uttar Pradesh village and millions like him to the capital of newly-independent India. Raza kept his part of the bargain, yet half a century later, his daughter was pushed out of the city her father helped build, the only home she has known. “I...

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For a binding climate target by TK Arun

India must resist developed country pressure to cut its greenhouse gas emissions, goes the cry. Such a position helps only the rich, in a tearing hurry to grow richer, the environment be damned. It is in the interest of India’s poor for the country to adopt a stringent policy regime to control emissions domestically and thus contribute to a binding deal to cut emissions globally. Climate change has been identified...

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Food inflation up at 17.47%, onions still costly

Food inflation soared to 17.47 per cent in the third week of November from 15.58 per cent a week ago, mirroring a shortage in supply that set in following weak monsoon in the country. With the economy on upswing, analysts said the rising food prices should prompt the government and the Reserve Bank of India to shift their focus on controlling inflation, otherwise it would increase manufacturing inflation as well. The...

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Irom And The Iron In India’s Soul by Shoma Chaudhury

SOMETIMES, TO accentuate the intransigence of the present, one must revisit the past. So first, a flashback. The year is 2006. An ordinary November evening in Delhi. A slow, halting voice breaks into your consciousness. “How shall I explain? It is not a punishment, but my bounden duty…” A haunting phrase in a haunting voice, made slow with pain yet magnetic in its moral force. “My bounden duty.” What could...

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