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	<title>Madhulika Liddle</title>
	<link>http://madhulikaliddle.com</link>
	<description>~ Writer &#124; Novelist ~</description>
	<lastBuildDate>Sun, 28 Feb 2010 11:40:57 +0000</lastBuildDate>
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		<title>The Englishman&#8217;s Cameo</title>
		<description><![CDATA[<strong>My first novel, The Englishman's Cameo, published by Hachette India, is a detective story set in 17th century Delhi.</strong> — "Muzaffar Jang is that rare creature in Mughal Emperor Shahjahan's Dilli - an aristocrat with friends in low places. One of whom, Faisal, stands accused of murder. When the body of Mirza Murad Begh is found stabbed in the chest, lying in a water channel in the Qila, poor Faisal is the only one around. But what of the fact that, right before his demise, the victim had stepped out of the haveli of Shahjahanabad's most ravishing courtesan? Could not the sultry Mehtab Banu, and her pale, delicate sister Gulnar have something to do with the murder? Determined to save his friend, Muzaffar decides to investigate, with only a cup now and then of that new-fangled brew - Allah, so bitter - called coffee to help him..."]]></description>
		<link>http://madhulikaliddle.com/books/the-englishmans-cameo/</link>
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		<title>Games People Play</title>
		<description><![CDATA[On a hot day, we climb the Great Wall of China. Not, unfortunately, at Simatai or Mutianyu, the less touristy sections of the Wall near Beijing, but at Badaling. Badaling is 70km from Beijing, the nearest the Wall comes to the capital, and the most commercial and crowded section.
Hanging on to the iron railing that [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://madhulikaliddle.com/travel-writing/games-people-play/</link>
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		<title>More Than Just Schmaltzburg</title>
		<description><![CDATA[In the early years of the 17th century, a powerful but eccentric nobleman built a pleasure resort against a backdrop of the wooded hills outside Salzburg. Archbishop Markus Sitticus named his pretty yellow palace Schloss Hellbrunn. Unlike his contemporaries, however, Sitticus had little love for gilded chandeliers and brocade drapes. So he set about filling [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://madhulikaliddle.com/travel-writing/more-than-just-schmaltzburg/</link>
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		<title>Down South in Orleanpet</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Pondicherry has a strangely surreal feel to it.
It’s not as if India is short of places with a colonial past. Just about every hill station in the country, from Nainital to Ooty, has its clutch of old stone churches, its Mall Road and its little shops selling jams and marmalades. Many also have old cottages [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://madhulikaliddle.com/travel-writing/down-south-in-orleanpet/</link>
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		<title>On the Night Train</title>
		<description><![CDATA[When the Farakka Express pulled out of Delhi at 9.45, I was already comfortably seated. A bespectacled young man in faded jeans and checked shirt was the only other occupant of the compartment. He looked quiet, respectable—a decent youngster, I thought.
“Are you going all the way to Malda, sir?” He asked me.
“No,” I replied. “Only [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://madhulikaliddle.com/short-stories/on-the-night-train/</link>
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		<title>The Sari Satyagraha</title>
		<description><![CDATA[The washerwoman, her sari clinging to her wet ankles as she drew water from the well, was the first to inform Sulakshana of the news. Sulakshana had been sitting on the charpai under the neem tree that grew in a corner of the courtyard. It was her favourite place, the place she always retired to [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://madhulikaliddle.com/short-stories/the-sari-satyagraha/</link>
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		<title>Love and the Papaya Man</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Maya had been sweeping the verandah when the papaya man first appeared. He came slowly down the road, wheeling his bicycle along, one hand balancing the basket of papayas perched precariously on the seat. He did not yell out in a singsong voice, like the other hawkers did, and Maya, busy with her twig broom [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://madhulikaliddle.com/short-stories/love-and-the-papaya-man/</link>
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		<title>A Tale of A Summer Vacation</title>
		<description><![CDATA[The year I turned twelve, my grandmother took it into her head to insist that I spend the summer vacation with her. The invitation was extended only to me. She knew that Father, busy as he was, could not spare more than a weekend to visit her; she knew equally well that Mother, who treated [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://madhulikaliddle.com/short-stories/a-tale-of-a-summer-vacation/</link>
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		<title>A Morning Swim</title>
		<description><![CDATA[The fog hung, forbidding as a pall, over the Yamuna. The water would be icy today, thought Rashid as he huddled beside Imam Miyan’s rickety tea-stall, chewing a stale rusk. There were few people about at this hour of the morning; just the rickshaw-pullers, the coolies and the beggars. It was so cold, there’d probably [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://madhulikaliddle.com/short-stories/a-morning-swim/</link>
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		<title>Cinema as it used to be</title>
		<description><![CDATA[This is a list of the last few reviews on my blog on classic cinema, called 'Dusted Off'. ]]></description>
		<link>http://madhulikaliddle.com/dusted/dusted-off/</link>
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