Sadness Was So Claustrophobic.

A Journey Once Begun, Has No End

The Present Changes The Past. Looking Back You Do Not Find What You Left Behind.

But Then, How Could You Have Any Self-respect Knowing That You Didn't Believe In Anything Exactly? How Did You Embrace What Was Yours If You Didn't Leave Something For It? How Did You Create A Life Of Meaning And Pride?

This Way Of Leaving Your Family For Work Had Condemned Them Over Several Generations To Have Their Hearts Always In Other Places, Their Minds Thinking About People Elsewhere; They Could Never Be In A Single Existence At One Time. How Wonderful It Was Going To Be To Have Things Otherwise.

I Do Think That The Modern India Does Belong To Writers Who Are Living In India.