Iqbal, that great poet, was so right. The moment you recognize what is beautiful in this world, you stop being a slave. To hell with the Naxals and their guns shipped from China. If you taught every poor boy how to paint, that would be the end of the rich in India.
Madame, all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you.
So far, about morals, I know only that what is moral is what you feel good after and what is immoral is what you feel bad after.
The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.
The real reason for not committing suicide is because you always know how swell life gets again after the hell is over.
The thing is to become a master and in your old age to acquire the courage to do what children did when they knew nothing.
There is no rule on how to write. Sometimes it comes easily and perfectly; sometimes it's like drilling rock and then blasting it out with charges.
There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.
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