Amit Chaudhuri is an internationally recognized Indian English author and academic. He is currently Professor of Contemporary Literature at the University of East Anglia.
Amit Chaudhuri grew up in Bombay. He has written numerous novels, short stories, poems and critical essays in English. He attended University College London, Balliol College, Oxford and has also been Creative Arts Fellow at Wolfson College. He was Leverhulme Fellow at Cambridge University, a Visiting Professor at Columbia University, and Samuel Fischer Guest Professor of Literature at Freie Universität Berlin.
His novels have won several major awards and he has received international ... more »
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Amit Chaudhuri Poems
In my cousin's mansion in California my uncle and aunt, tourists saw it separately.
Going for A Drive
The watchman waves. The garage door stutters open. It’s dark inside, dark. Grope for a switch. ‘Where are you going?’ We’re going somewhere not dark, somewhere clear and sunlit,
'Apples Still Come From Kashmir'
Apples still come from Kashmir pale pink in crates in winter’s market.
There has been writing for ten days now unabated. People are anxious, fed up. There is writing in Paris, in disaffected suburbs, but also in small towns, and old ones like Lyon.
Comments about Amit Chaudhuri
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
In my cousin's mansion in California
my uncle and aunt, tourists
saw it separately.
At first, they didn't know what it was -
neither basin nor commode
neither bowl nor bathtub
they circled round it anxiously
Could it be a drinking-water fountain?
Later, when they knew, they tried
it tentatively; the dwarf-
like jet of water sprang ceilingward
and surprised their secret regions.
[From St Cyril Road and other poems]