25 Quotes by Amrita Mahale

First-rate people talked about ideas, only third-rate talked about people.

The third cup of coffee was a special weapon in her arsenal, like the brahmastra from the epics, to be wielded occasionally and against the most insidious of enemies, one’s own demons.

Stories are the flesh and blood, the link between past and present.

But middle-class in this country was a state of mind, as one of Kaiz’s unbearable friends had once declared. Not the filthy-rich of masala movies, not the dirt-poor of arthouse films, but everything in between. For some it was shorthand for middle-access, a separation from the corridors of power. For others it was middle-culture, a separation from the world of ideas.

You could put all the French or Italian you wanted in their names, but you couldn't take Mumbai out of the buildings: the clothes drying outside the windows would remain, and so would the mud streaks from flowerpots on windowsills.

There was plenty of anger on offer in Mumbai and it was easy to look away. But every once in a while, someone with imagination crafted their fury like origami into something delightful.

It will be okay, you will be okay. They call this the spirit of Bombay.

Learning its mythology was one of many paths to calling a city home.

It was a gentle assault that chiselled at your will, and chip by chip, your resistance fell away, sculpting a new you. When you acquiesced, you were left wondering why you had ever resisted. In some moments you were even convinced that it was your decision, that you were acting of your own free will – that mirage of a notion – because after all, any pressure on you had only been mild, albeit persistent.