Sometimes when you finish a book, you don’t know quite what you’ve got.
Sometimes writing a novel is not unlike having a baby. You’d have to ask a female novelist to compare the pain.
If you’re offended, it’s your problem.
Sometimes you find your voice by trying to write like people, and sometimes you find it by trying to write unlike people.
I am clearly vulnerable to these more passionate and volatile unstable relationships. I am trying to not be so vulnerable.
I hate admitting that my enemies have a point.
I am on Facebook, but mainly as a way to spy on my children. I find out more about them from their Facebook pages than from what they tell me.
Chekhov is this poet of melancholy and isolation and of wishing you were somewhere else than where you are.
When I was growing up, everyone around me was fond of fooling around with words. It was certainly common in my family, but I think it is typical of Bombay, and maybe of India, that there is a sense of play in the way people use language.
Ideas are interesting to me, and religions are a place where ideas have been very subtly embodied for thousands of years. All literature started as sacred literature.
Hell is other people’s fantasies...
Home has become such a scattered, damaged, various concept in our present travails. There is so much to yearn for. There are so few rainbows any more.
When we stop believing in the gods we can start believing in their stories.
Freedom is not a tea party, India. Freedom is a war.
Sometimes we feel we straddle two cultures; at other times, that we fall between two stools.
I am gagged and imprisoned. I can’t even speak. I want to kick a football in a park with my son. Ordinary, banal life: my impossible dream.
I know that when people pull apart, they usually employ misunderstanding as a weapon, deliberately getting hold of the stick’s wrong end, impaling themselves on its point in order to prove the perfidy of the other.
I’m a novelist. Fortunately I don’t have to rule the world.
Too many people had spent too long demonizing or totemizing me to listen seriously to what I had to say.
In the cookie of life, friends are the chocolate chips.