And you an ot e a witness to the unfolding of a spectacle without awe.Approach this homage to the spirit of th time and place with joined palms, head dipping mildly in reverence.
But above all, approach this plenitude of tales within tales within tales with love.
Without love for the shared fantasy of 'unity in diversity', his nove ould not have existed at all.
Nation of dubious ancestry, born of imperialism and revolution, of three hundred and thirty million gods and goddesses, prophets and saviours and enlightened ones, fortune-tellers and clairvoyants, fantasies and dreams and nightmares, of self contradictions galore, this is a love letter to you from a besotted son if there ever was one.
O people of fractured selves, you who have been scarred by the vicissitudes of history, traumatized by partitioned fates, absorbed by the currents of dynastic politics, afflicted by the optimism disease, gather up and listen to the saga of midnight 's children, your very own: one a child of hardwon freedom, other a child of flesh and blood.
Love of people and places beyond borders.
I had to ge into exile to learn that the hildren of midnight were more varied than I- even I- had dreamed.
'Midnight 's Children' might be an overblown, unsubtle metaphor for India but it is lso a celebration of multiplicity in a universal context.
I choose to remember and cherish it as an act of love, as an act of faith.