Our whole stay in India has been overshadowed by Christopher Hitchens’s impending death. When I saw him last at the end of February in California I thought that he had weeks to live.  But he has hung on, writing away. Long before he got ill he told me that he didn’t want to live one day after he could no longer write and each week I check Slate to see if his column is there. I also ring his wife Carol every two or three weeks. My last e-mail exchange with Christopher had come in October when I’d read an article of his syndicated in a Hyderabadi paper:

Dear Christopher,

I hope Carol told you of my delight in picking up a local Hydrobadi

paper and finding your ruminations on Al Awlaki. Bloody good.

Very much hoping to see you in Washington in January to get your thoughts on

India. Mine in brief:

For: full of life, charm and beautiful women.

Against: can’t get a decent curry, filthy.

You are much in my thoughts and also Laura Antonia. Should she need help or

support, I will endeavour to provide.

Love

Colin

Christopher replied:

Well, the Awlaki insights came mainly from the son-and-heir. Glad that you liked them.

From far off share your impressions of India, which we must bind to us as a friend against the hellishness

of Pakistan.

Love to Flaves, and to you.

Always

Christopher

The signing off seemed valedictory and I have been waiting for a summons to a funeral ever since. When I ring Carol to check in it is obvious that Christopher is very ill indeed. But for the first time I entertain the faint chance that I will see him again when I get to the States in January.