stopped in our tracks

Several years ago, on a fateful night in a colonial house in Yercaud, Tamil Nadu, UG Krishnamurti made a bonfire of Chandrasekhar's dreams. He flung audiotapes, video recordings, crammed files containing intimate letters of correspondence written to him by his friends over the years, and hundreds of rare black-and-white and colour photographs of himself into the fire. In that overpowering silence of Yercaud, Chandrasekhar found his voice. The echo of that voice resonates in each and every page of this book. Every segment of this memoir is fuelled by the raw material of life. It is born out of Chandrasekhar's urge and need to testify and talk about the intense experiences, which he has shared over the years in his middle class home in Bangalore with this strange man called UG.