Quietly they moved down the calm and sacred river that had come down to earth so that its waters might flow over the ashes of those long dead, and that would continue to flow long after the human race had, through hatred and knowledge, burned itself out.

What is the difference between my life and my love? One gets me low, the other lets me go.

And the process of reading is such a private one. I once came into a room where a friend of mine was reading one of my books, and he clicked his tongue impatiently and shooed me off.

Is it not love that knows how to make smooth things rough and rough things smooth?

I think it's possible to be multi-rooted, rather like a banyan tree, without being deracinated.

I don't think people give Indian society enough credit. We may not like to talk much about things but we do, basically, want to live and let live.

There are plenty of good Indian writers in English, and none of us feel we are carrying the burden of being a poster boy.