It's oddly reassuring to see the sheer quantity of good writing being done—in English, in India. Given what's happening to English in India, perhaps to language generally, this is a pleasant surprise. However, one cannot also help being overwhelmed by a sense of the larger irrelevance of the phenomenon: this nri literary boom. (Time to show those saffron shorts now! Or to come clean.)
One way of understanding this is by an analogy with economic policy. The Asian tigers are a bit mangled and motheaten today, but there was a time when it was seriously suggested that the way forward for India was to emulate Singapore et al by growing via exports. But it was plausibly argued that this was not really an option for 'continental' economies that were too big to be moved by such marginal, second-order activities. The often excellent, exportable literature of today's Anglo-Indians functions under a like disability. It will find a place on Western supermarket shelves, but it can't be more than a pleasant distraction from the process of cultural creation the rest of India will have to undertake for itself.