Why couldn't she be part of that family? rent a room in someone else's life.

Jemu watched his father disappear. He didn't throw the coconut and he didn't cry. Never again would he know love for another human being that wasn't adulterated by another, contradictory emotion.

When I was growing up the publishing world seemed so far away. When my mother wrote a book, she would look up the address of publishers on the backs of the books she owned and send off her manuscript.

Could fulfillment ever be felt as deeply as loss?

The Indian diaspora is a wonderful place to write from and I am lucky to be part of it.

New York is a lovely city. It is an easy city to go back to and an easy city to leave. Every time I go there I immediately make travel plans.

We think of immigration as a Western issue but, of course, it isn't.