Any good society survives on a circulation of favours.
Neither. I am just one who has woken up while the rest of you are still sleeping.
The book of your revolution sits in the pit of your belly, young Indian. Crap it out, and read. Instead of which, they're all sitting in front of color TVs and watching cricket and shampoo advertisements.
A White Tiger keeps no friends. It's too dangerous.
A man's past keeps growing, even when his future has come to a full stop.
Too much of Indian writing in English, it seemed to me, consisted of middle-class people writing about other middle-class people - and a small slice of life being passed off as an authentic portrait of the country.