In the elevator up to his suite at new delhi’s india habitat centre, where his mother lily is holding fort, answering a series of calls with uncommon patience, shashi tharoor whips off his dark glasses with a flourish. pauses for a moment. and lets the full impact of his grey eyes sink in. he’s just back from breakfast with us ambassador robert blackwill, who, it appears, has been saying excessively kind things to him about his last book, india: from midnight to millennium. tharoor is not one to let praise (especially about himself) go unrepeated. nor is he above posing with practised ease for a photographer or changing his kurta for the next one from a rival paper.

he’s in the capital for three short days and between a succession of tv appearances and print interviews, he’s been there, done that. and all exceptionally well. not that it’s unusual. every year, the capital sees at least one such visitation from the united nations’ interim head of the department of public information. every year, a horde of men and women stand up to be counted by their friend. this year, viking is carrying the tab: tharoor is in town to promote his new novel, an uncharacteristically intimate account of a very political event. it is called, riot: a novel. and it’s come at a very crucial time in tharoor’s life, which he hints at in the novel’s acknowledgements, and suggests we keep off the record. he has separated from his journalist wife tilottama and she now lives with their twin sons, 17-year-olds ishaan and kanishk, five minutes away from his home in manhattan.

now 45, tharoor has been out of india since he was 19, but it’s difficult to tell. the sonorous voice has nary a trace of an accent – perhaps because he’s spent time in singapore and geneva before moving to new york. the writing is always indian. and his concerns are ever more so – at a time when hindutva is out of the closet and in your face, he’s dared to write a novel that reveals the enemy is within and is wearing a saffron headband. it’s set in a dusty town called zalilgarh where riots break out between hindus and muslims over ram shila pujan. not for him the grand scale of the 1992 post-ram janmabhoomi riots: “i wanted a canvas that was more manageable.” if the novel’s hero echoes religious views similar to tharoor’s, he’s not apologetic: “i’ve nailed my colours to the mast. i don’t like to use the word secular but i do believe in pluralism.” an expat’s fond view of india? “i am an expat, not an emigré. i haven’t made that leap of faith.

i am an nri because of the circumstances of geography. but i don’t have a green card. india matters to me as much as i want to matter to india.” he’s always been this way. at the age of five-and-a-half, he was sent to montfort in salem, tamil nadu, a boarding school where he stayed for a year till the brothers there, told his mother that though he was doing well academically, he was miserable. he ended up in school in mumbai, where he had to repeat class iii. which is how he finished up at new delhi’s st stephen’s college. he would have happily gone on to the indian foreign service if Indira Gandhi hadn’t intervened with the emergency.

“i had no desire to serve an undemocratic government. it was a profoundly disillusioning experience.” so off he went to get a phd from the fletcher school of law and diplomacy at tufts university and at 22, was at the UN. he’s been writing since he can remember: “i’ve written even in the chandamama. i’ve written romantic fiction for eve’s weekly. i probably wrote in every english language publication in the late ’60s and early ’70s.” it’s a habit he’s kept up: though his reading, has declined. “now i read only when i’m flying and even then, movies compete for my attention. time,” he adds dramatically, “is my enemy”. that is when he’s not trying to convince the media of rich and tranquil nations that they should care for the work the united nations does in the poor and strife-torn parts of the world. and though he says he’s going to decelerate now and not write his next book until next christmas, we wouldn’t bet on it.