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About Amit Varma

Amit Varma is a writer based in Mumbai. He worked in journalism for over a decade, and won the Bastiat Prize for Journalism in 2007. His bestselling novel, My Friend Sancho, was published in 2009. He is best known for his blog, India Uncut. These days, he makes his living playing poker as he works on his second novel.




My Friend Sancho

My first book, My Friend Sancho, was published in May 2009, and went on to become the biggest selling debut novel released that year in India. It is a contemporary love story set in Mumbai, and had earlier been longlisted for the Man Asian Literary Prize 2008. To learn more about the book, click here.


If you're interested, do join the Facebook group for My Friend Sancho


Click here for more about my publisher, Hachette India.


My posts on India Uncut about My Friend Sancho can be found here.


Bastiat Prize 2007 Winner

Recent entries

The Second Game of Dice

This is the 25th installment of my weekly poker column in the Economic Times, Range Rover. The Mahabharata is an…

The Interpreter

This is the 24th installment of my weekly poker column in the Economic Times, Range Rover. If there is one…

Magnus Carlsen’s Weakness

This is the 23rd installment of my weekly poker column in the Economic Times, Range Rover. Last week was an…

The Stranger at the Next Table

This is the 8th installment of Lighthouse, my monthly column for BLink, a supplement of the Hindu Business Line. I…

Keep Calm and Carry On

This is the 22nd installment of my weekly poker column in the Economic Times, Range Rover. Writers like watching other…

24 December, 2009

The Difference Between ‘IMO’ and ‘IMHO’...

... is that ‘imho’ inevitably carries far more arrogance with it. When humility has to be claimed it is generally absent.

In a similar vein, there is ‘I don’t mean to interrupt but…’. Like, duh, if you don’t mean to interrupt—don’t.

Also, ‘With all due respect…’. That’s like a slap.

And, in the course of a TV discussion, calling another panelist an ‘azeez dost’. Dude, he may be ‘azeez’ if his name is Aziz, but there’s no fricking way that guy is a dost. You want him to die. You want to personally torture him using an iron maiden while blasting Himesh music into his eardrums.

A list of such casual semantic hypocrisies could no doubt fill an encyclopedia. And it’s apparent, even as we say what we do not mean, that we do not mean it. Then why say it?

Posted by Amit Varma in Small thoughts

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