The more languages you know, the less likely you are to become a terrorist.
We are men without ambition, and all we want is to be left alone, in peace so that we can try and be happy. So few people will understand this simplicity.
I need to have some depth in my characters. That’s why they are all Bengalis. I can’t imagine writing a book with someone called Saxena as the hero.
Amidst one’s daily clutter, one doesn’t usually reflect on the splendour of being free because – naturally – one has to get on with the business of living.
Advances don’t fundamentally interest me. It sounds terribly naive, but money doesn’t really mean anything to me. If a lot of money came my way, I’m certainly not going to say no. But it hasn’t come my way as yet, and I’m not heartbroken.
Well, life is dark, isn’t it? Mostly, it’s dreadful. At the same time, death is funny too. I mean, look at the fuss we make of it.
So much better to write pen on paper; you can do it anywhere, say, while stuck at the airport.
People should have literary and cultural taste and should not bomb hotels.
It’s a huge headache – the more money you have, the more hassles. I find money very uncomfortable.
I feel completely at home in the absurdities of India.
I don’t think I would do better books if I wrote full time. I write for amateurish reasons.
For me, comedy is richer and larger than anything else.
Anyone who has grown up in Delhi knows it’s horrible.
Governance is complex, difficult, and on the whole, thankless – why ever should the Bright Young Things leave the management of their hotels, newspapers, banks, TV channels and corporations to join, like fleas on a behemoth, the government? Wherein lies the difference between the two worlds?