Nobody is at home. This is the quintessential, as it casts its shadowy mould on my fribbling grey and red, theme omnilurking through the pages of contemporary Indian literature in English. I’m not comfortable, to confess, with the word ‘theme’; I would rather call it ‘something’, because ‘something’ has possibility of ‘everything’ and an aura of ‘nothing’. And, this is what lurks from the jungle of words spread over (in) different ‘pageal’ territories. From loss of inheritance in Kiran Desai to Upamanu Chatterjee’s Augusts (English, though) through difficult daughters of Manju Kapur and Anita Desai’s turmoil in custody, we can feel someone, at least, heaving one’s heart out to ingress few drops of familial elixir. But, alas!