The writer's is an interior world, a world of the mind.

I am not into the unrealistic realm of magic realism where birds talk.

...a rainy day ceases to have meaning for a person who has lived in the open under a monsoon cloud most of his life.

The slums are not a place of despair. Its inhabitants are all working towards a better life.

I did not go to any creative writing workshop; I did not major in literature. If I can write, anyone can write. All it needs is imagination.

I wonder what it feels like to have no desires left because you have satisfied them all, smothered them with money even before they are born. Is an existence without desire very desirable? And is the poverty of desire better than rank poverty itself?

I became completely addicted to 'Angry Birds' for a while.