So Many Indian Novels, Quite Unfairly, Do

I Recall Drinking Sherry In California And Dreaming Of England, Where I Ate Dalmoth And Dreamed Of Delhi. What Is The Purpose, I Wonder, Of All This Restlessness? I Sometimes Seem To Myself To Wander Around The World Merely Accumulating Material For Future Nostalgias.

In Spite Of All Temptations Of Belonging To Many Nations, I've Remained An Indian.

Why Do Writers, Say, Give Up A Job In Economics And Decide To Write Poetry? Or, Why Do They Give Up A Job In A Bank And Decide To Paint, Like Krishan Khanna? They Want To Convey Something.

Everyone Sort Of Sees His Own Life And Times As Being Ephemeral. One Thinks That Everything Good Or Important That Happened, Happened In The Past. But I Think That Seeing Scenes That You Are Used To, But With The Heightening Effects Of Poetry, Perhaps Makes You Value Your Life And Times More Than You Might Otherwise Do.

I Don't Think Anyone Should Be Banned. If You Don't Like A Book, Set It Aside.