The author of The House at Adampur tells here, in a quietly moving manner, of a man in search of himself. Rai Gyan Chand was educated, of good family, a landowner, he had married and raised two sons, his friends sought his counsel, yet a rhythm of life had eluded him. This story, told by a friend in the first person recalls Gyan's early life -- his law studies in England, his return to the small village of Amritsar in India, his conviction on several occasions that he had found love and fulfillment and the subsequent shattering of his illusions. After his sons became grown men, Gyan left Amritsar, abandoned his possessions and lived, for seven years, the life of a hermit. When he returns to the world of his past he has cultivated a remoteness seemingly sufficient for his life-long-objective: to love without self-interest. But it is apparent that even here he has fallen short -- his fastidiousness of commitment which will not allow him to be significantly or lastingly moved has resulted in almost an ennui of detachment, an absence and a failure of values. A softly rendered tale, graceful, pitched in low register, which never rises above its theme.