Profile: William Dalrymple, India scholar and gentleman

Last year, my book club read William Dalrymple's Nine Lives: In Search of the Sacred in Modern India and for once (possibly the only time) opinion was unanimous - we all loved it.

The book, released in 2009, comprises intimate portraits of nine people who represent India's diverse sacred traditions, encompassing mysticism, monasticism, music and dance. Through these biographies, Dalrymple examines how ancient faiths and rituals maintain their grip as India convulses with the rush to modernity.

The first story is the spellbinding tale of a nun, an adherent of the Digambara, or Sky-Clad Jains, thought to be the most severe of all India's ascetic sects. Dalrymple first encounters Prasannamati Mataji while ascending Vindyagiri, a hill topped by the largest monolithic statue in India, a place of pilgrimage. The slender woman, barefoot and wrapped in a white cotton sari, is climbing the stairs ahead of him. She gently wipes each step with a peacock fan before placing her foot, ensuring she does not inadvertently step on an insect. Jain strictures dictate that no harm can be caused to any living thing.

"She had large, wide-apart eyes, olive skin and an air of self-contained confidence that expressed itself in a vigour and ease in the way she held her body. But there was also something sad and wistful about her expression as she went about her devotions; and this, combined with her unexpected youth and beauty, left one wanting to know more."

This is how Dalrymple hooks the reader, conjuring a picture of a whole person with a few deft brushstrokes. We have a sense of the nun's spirit, we like her and we wonder what's behind her melancholy. He's very good at showing, not telling; stepping back to let the subject reveal their own story.

Mataji tells him that she was a pampered child, born to a wealthy merchant family. When she was 13 years old she met a Jain monk who impressed her and she decided she wanted to be like him.