And there it was again. Another religion turned against itself. Another edifice constructed by the human mind, decimated by human nature.

One of the reasons some people get so angry with me is because I have the space now that a lot of others who think like me don't.

Impelled by feelings that were primal yet paradoxically wholly impersonal. Feelings of contempt born of inchoate, unacknowledged fear--civilization's fear of nature, men's fear of women, power's fear of powerlessness. Man's subliminal urge to destroy what he could neither subdue nor deify.

And when we look in through the windows, all we see are shadows. And when we try and listen, all we hear is a whispering. And we cannot understand the whispering, because our minds have been invaded by a war. A war that we have both won and lost. The very worst sort of war. A war that captures dreams and re-dreams them. A war that has made us adore our conquerors and despise ourselves.

The NGO-ization of politics threatens to turn resistance into a well-mannered, reasonable, salaried, 9-to-5 job. With a few perks thrown in. Real resistance has real consequences. And no salary.

As I keep saying, fiction is truth. I think fiction is the truest thing there ever was.

When I'm outside the cities I do feel optimistic. There is such grandeur in India and so much beauty.