That dreams have power only over your own mind. But with money you can have power over the minds of others

I am neither a Bengali nor am I from Delhi's St Stephen's. I am an Allahabad boy.

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

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

Love doesn't happen in an instant. It creeps up on you and then it turns your life upside-down. It colours your waking moments and fills your dreams. You begin to walk on air and see life in brilliant new shades. But it also brings with it a sweet agony, a delicious torture.

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?