The Present Changes The Past.

Writing, For Me, Means Humility. It’s A Process That Involves Fear And Doubt, Especially If You’re Writing Honestly.

Saeed Quickly Found Employment At A Banana Republic, Where He Would Sell To Urban Sophisticates The Black Turtleneck Of The Season, In A Shop Whose Name Was Synonymous With Colonial Exploitation And The Rapacious Ruin Of The Third World.

New York Is A Lovely City. It Is An Easy City To Go Back To And An Easy City To Leave. Every Time I Go There I Immediately Make Travel Plans.

The Indian Diaspora Is A Wonderful Place To Write From And I Am Lucky To Be Part Of It.

When He Died, I Went About Like A Ragged Crow Telling Strangers, "my Father Died, My Father Died." My Indiscretion Embarrassed Me, But I Could Not Help It. Without My Father On His Delhi Rooftop, Why Was I Here? Without Him There, Why Should I Go Back? Without That Ache Between Us, What Was I Made Of?