Cornelia Funke tells us why fairytales are a time machine

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For long-time regulars of the Jaipur Literature Festival, Monday, which also happens to be the fest's last day, seems reminiscent of how it used to be. The crowd has visibly thinned. For the first time in days I have seen the grass on the Front Lawns. It is easy to sit back on a chair and listen.

Every morning as I walk into the Diggi Palace I see a group of policemen either sitting on the sidewalk soaking in the sun, or standing under the shade, reading newspapers. It somehow captures what Atwood said at the start of the fest, of how we are all "narrative creatures". We need stories to live, breathe and dream.

(Even if they are news stories.)

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