I need fiction like you need to eat or exercise.

The way her body existed only where he touched her. The rest of her was smoke.

What came for them? Not death. Just the end of living.

The idea of "human rights," for example - sometimes it bothers me. Not in itself, but because the concept of human rights has replaced the much grander idea of justice.

Pointed in the wrong direction, trapped outside their own history and unable to retrace their steps because their footprints had been swept away.

As a woman who grew up in a village in India, I've spent my whole life fighting tradition. There's no way that I want to be a traditional Indian housewife.

To stay quiet is as political an act as speaking out.