Novelists From India

"Wipe out the paints, unmould the clay, Let nothing remain of that yesterday."

"I am fed up with the Congress. I am beginning to prefer the BJP to the Congress, because the Congress is now more communal than the BJP, despite Ram Janmabhoomi. It is the Congress which evolved the Muslim votebank. ... In comparison, I prefer the BJP as an alternative, because it is less corrupt. The BJP at least loves the country. But I wish the BJP does not stress redundant issues like the Ram Janmabhoomi or other places of worship."

"I don’t know where I am, what am I doing, where will life take me, how will things go, whom to talk to, what to share, what to cook, how to eat, when to sleep, what to wear, what to do and how to live. All of my known are busy making their CVs look professional and substantial. And I am figuring out the way to make my life normal and less bumpy. Forget about building strong resume. Rest assured, I am okay…I will be alright. Cheers to my life!"

"Gaurav is a man, man is a social being and Gaurav is not social at all. From statements one two and three we get ‘Gaurav is just a being.’ Hence proved, he mere exists."

"I too had some of the ‘Indian’ things in my bags. A pressure cooker, Parle-G, Maggi, desi ghee, underwear (a lot of them), some more Maggi, shirts, pants, socks, thermal wear, jackets, chappals, soap, some more Parle-G and the list goes on and on."

"I mean did we take the law, the ‘LAW’ in our hands by playing in college? What were they going to do, put a charge on us under Indian Penal Code?!"

"We middle class people are all same from inside. First things first, I logged into my Facebook account and checked-in there as well. You know what, it is more important to check-in on Facebook than it is to check-in for real at the airport. Let the world which gives zero fucks to what you are doing with your life, know you can afford a plane ticket for economy class. Right?"

"Grandma asked me to confirm if I had landed in Canada and not any other country. I just pointed my camera towards the different direction where grandma could see some Sardar roaming here and there. ‘Aa ta Kanedda hi lagda hai.’ (it is Canada, indeed) grandma said in joy. We all laughed like anything."

"‘Be in line and then see what’s going on!’ a fat lady shouted at me. ‘Hell yeah! you greasy piece of flesh.’ I cursed her in my mind. But ‘Yes I am going back in line!’ I shouted at her."

"Stealing is really an art, a dangerous, risky art, though."

"If Bihari version of ‘Harry Potter’ would have been shot in Sitamarhi, I am sure that school (St. Joseph) would have been pictured as Hogwarts."

"The moment I stood there I saw people from houses to my right, left and front were already on their balcony’s and they stared at me all at once as if I was from Jupiter. Their interrogative expression was asking me ‘who the hell are you?’ repeatedly. I did not give a damn, though."

"I dedicate this book to all my readers, irrespective of whether they purchased my book, illegally obtained a copy, downloaded it or borrowed it from someone else. Some went ahead and directly asked me to send them a soft-copy of my book. Special salute to them as well."

"It (reading) not only opens up one’s mind to a wider array of things as well, but is also a welcome relief from the monotony of the mundane world."

"Excuse me pal! This is IELTS; you understand? This is International English Language Testing System…not a Bihar Board exam where candidates are accompanied by their friends, neighbours and relatives until they finish writing the test."

"Either I had to get my admission in grade ninth again or else I had to do some work-around to seek for a ‘jugaad’ (hack). I chose the latter."

"Sincere thanks to all the publishers who rejected my manuscripts. Rejection is the reason behind the creation of this book."

"Dedicated to all non-award winning, non-bestselling and self-published authors."

"I think reading is an effective way of introspecting how you perceive reality and imagination. As an author, you get to know what other authors have done better and it helps hone skills."

"As I continued to walk step by step, the lie of life freed me from its clutches, and the universal truth of death swept over breath by breath."

"Vyas was no less than a Purushottam. A Purushottam of the dark epoch, an era where sinners judge and punish sinners for sinning differently."

"Books give us the ability to see things from different perspectives. They educate us, entertain us, force us to think upon certain issues. And reading a book or reading, in general, is an excuse for those who are less sociable like me for not socialising much. And guess what, it works most of the times."

"Whoever said, he/she is a proud non-reader of books is living in oblivion."

"The only thing appeared to be fine in most of the rooms was blackboard. It seemed black; and fine too."

"The ocean of love, though vast and magnanimous in its beauty, is a treacherous place. It is riddled with strong currents pulling you towards them as you helplessly give in to their force. Drowning under them was my destiny, but floating around to admire the mesmerizing beauty of the corals underwater was my choice, for those depths felt like home—the depths of unrequited love."

"I picked the stardust you left behind and made phantoms of you in my head. I ran after the echoes of your soul—too swift for my feeble legs to catch up to. Even my shadow yearns for your lips to say my name. You steady me like an anchor in the vastness of my dark waters, yet you crumble me like a delicate flower under a roaring cloudburst. I close my eyes and dance with the memory of you. And for that moment, I am home."

"As they say in Hindi ‘Chalti ka naam zindagi.’ Anybody who is just sitting (even on the right track) will be run over (by the train) at some point in life."

"I tried my hand at a novel around college romance, but soon figured out I was no good at it."

"He (night-guard) was wearing an underwear and a torn vest which said ‘yeh aram ka maamla hai.’ He implemented that statement literally in his life, I could see that."

"Nobody tells me what to do in my book. I can do whatever I wish and to whomever I want. It is fun for me. It calms the chaos inside my mind. That is why I write."

"Get along with me as I don't wait for anybody. I am time , and I welcome you to the world of Kali where nothing is as it seems."

"They [Muslims] were not satisfied merely with looting, they destroyed temples, they demolished idols, they raped women.... ‘All that we [the passive Hindu] do is compile lists of all instances of their cruelty, oppressiveness and hostility towards us and all we ever say is this: “You have killed us, you have broken our idols and kidnapped our women. In this you have been very unjust, and have caused us great pain. We cannot continue to live like this.” Do we ever say more than this, or do more than this?’ .... ‘I ask you this – can our country be freed by fraud?"

"Sri Seshadri has cited the advice which Sarat Chandra Chatterjee had tendered to his people. He had written as follows in October, 1926: “Hindustan is the land of the Hindus. It is, therefore, the duty of the Hindus alone to liberate it from the shackles of foreign domination. Muslims are sitting with their faces turned towards Arabia or Turkey. Their heart is not in the land of Hindustan. But when it is not there, it is no use lamenting over it. We need not be unnerved by counting the heads of Muslims. Numbers are not the supreme truth in the world… In freedom’s battle in any country, do all the people of that country take part? When the Americans fought for their freedom, more than half the people of that country were with the British. In the Irish freedom struggle, how many were actually involved in it?… Right or wrong is not decided by the counting of heads. It is decided by the intensity of tapasya or the single-minded devotion to the cause. The problem before the Hindus is not to devise ways and means of bringing about an artificial unity. The problem before them in how to organise themselves.”"

"Love that is not madness is not love."

"If we go by the lessons of history we have to accept that the goal of Hindu-Muslim unity is a mirage. When Muslims first entered India, they looted the country, destroyed the temples, broke the idols, raped the women and heaped innumberable indignities on the people of this country. Today it appears that such noxious behaviour has entered the bone-marrow of Muslims. Unity can be achieved among equals. In view of the big gap between the cultural level of Hindus and Muslims which can hardly be bridged, I am of the view that Hindu-Muslim unity which could not be achieved during the last thousand years will not materialise during the ensuing thousand years. If we are to drive away the English people depending upon this elusive capital of Hindu-Muslim unity, I would rather advise its postponement."

"Love knows everything."

"It's a very strange middle class…Full of operators and people on the move. It really doesn't value disruptions in that activeness. It doesn't have time for any privileging of daydreaming."

"It does like writers, but it's also Calcutta now, not the Calcutta of 25 or 30 or 100 years ago. They maybe haven't got over the idea of it, but the reality, the context that produced that, has disappeared."

"People are much more aware of one another in England, super-aware. They are focused on others in a seemingly detached and abstract way. This was very different from India. In India you could do anything and people would see you but not see you, hear you but not hear you."

"... the floor was a stone slab of coolness, an expanse of warm ice that would not melt."

"There has been writing for 10 days now"

"It seemed there was no democracy among children – always an aristocracy based on strength, intellect and seniority. But seniority counted most, because a boy of ten is bound to be stronger and cleverer than a boy of nine, having spent an extra year in the world, at a time when each year is like a precious deposit in a newly opened bank account. Among boys of the same age, there would be a silent tussle, a clean, honourable contest. Once a leader emerged, however, no elections were held."

"The gutters in the lane overflowed with an odd, languid grace. Water filled the lane; rose from ankle-deep to knee-deep. Insects swam in circles. Urchins splashed about haphazardly, while Saraswati returned from market with a shopping-bag in her hands; insects swam away to avoid this clumsy giant. Her wet footprints printing the floor of the house were as rich with possibility as the first footprint Crusoe found on his island."

"She would sweep the floor – unending expanses, acres and acres of floor – with a short broom called the jhadu, swiping away the dust in an arc with its long tail, which reminded one of the drooping tail of some nameless, exotic bird."

"Abhi, Babla and Sandeep slept like primeval creatures huddled on the island of the bed, close to the horizon, outwaiting the dawn that would bring the first thought to their heads. Their bodies slept with a pure detached love for every moment of sleep."

"‘... this refined language of Indian modernity – an Indian language that was actually first used as a first language by a home-grown cosmopolitan elite – enough to say, with or without humour, ‘Ami tomake bhalobashi’ (‘I love you’) or ‘Apni kothai thhaken?’ (‘Where do you live?). These stray statements performed an incantatory ‘open sesame’ – into the bounded, charmed, small-scale world of ‘Bengaliness’. The ‘honorary’ Bengali might be myopic; might be an aficionado of art-house cinema; might be politically left wing; might have taste for lyric poetry; a tendency towards the autobiographical; an appetite for fish; or display none of these traits.’"

"Trenches and mounds of dust everywhere give the city a strange bombed-out look."

"The grown-ups snapped the chillies (each made a sound terse as a satirical retort), and scattered the tiny, deadly seeds in their food."

"Calcutta is like a work of modern art that neither makes sense nor has utility, but exists for some esoteric aesthetic reason."

"Years ago, my mother and I fell in love with Busybee’s voice, its calm, even tone, and a smile which was always audible in the language. My father, meanwhile, is clipping his nails fastidiously, letting them fall on to an old, spread-out copy of the Times of India, till he sneezes explosively, as he customarily does, sending the crescent-shaped nail-clippings flying into the universe."