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The Writing Life: My Father, His Son, and Questions That Haunt

My father died in Mumbai on February 25, 1985. I think of him every day, sometimes several times each day, but especially on October 17 each year. Had he lived, he would have turned 108 today. I was not with Balkrishna Trimbak Gupte when he died after a long illness that, to this day, remains mysterious to me. Some physicians said it was cancer of the esophagus, others said it was complications from a botched surgery of the alimentary canal.
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