Quotes from Geetanjali Shree

Once you've got women and a border, a story can write itself. Even women on their own are enough. Women are stories in themselves, full of stirrings and whisperings that float on the wind, that bend with each blade of grass.

Anything worth doing transcends borders.

don't you think youth comes at the wrong time? When we haven't lived at all. It comes and then it's gone, and we don't even notice.

Man worships the idols he himself creates. But not those that God has made.

Daughter. You love her. You fear her. Now you see her. Now you don't. All women, don't forget, are daughters.

Life exists because there's death, and joy because there's sorrow.

That which is torn develops an increased capacity for insight and forbearance. A capacity to experience sensations that escape the notice of others.

You could say, Oh, what a horrible time this is! and then it will go ahead and make things even more horrible. And no one will say, but these are good days, acche din! Except for the government, that is.

but the sum total of the thing is this: life is life and death is death, and what is dead is dead, and gone is gone, and busy is busy. The gist being that if great beings and treasures and memories depart, never to return, what happens to ordinary everyday items? Nothing.

Koi zid thee ki kya kaha aur likha, kara gaya, usse zyada zaroori lagne laga ki kisne kaha aur kisne likha ya kiya. sabke naam bhari matlab rakne lage the. A willfulness (in me), that more important than what was said and written or done was who said it and who wrote or who did. All our names came to be loaded with meaning.

Kahani bewaqoof ghatna ke byore mein nahin hoti. Usse upajne wali nayi aur alag duniya mein hoti hai. Wah nahi gadhi, to kuch nahin. The story lies not in reportage of a stupid incident. But in the new and different world it gives rise to. If that is not constructed, it's nothing.

Nandu kyon bol kar bura bane? Unke nire dost baithe hain na, unke man kee bolne ko. Why should Nandu speak and become bad? His friends are sitting there to speak what his heart wants.

naamon mein itna matlab bharnewali pravritti ke khilaaf bolte-bolte hum khud usi pravritti ke hote jaa rahe the. Aise baat karne lage the ki jaise sach mein do hee pehchaanein rah gayee thee aur sab-kuch ho gaya tha—Hindu ya Musalman. "..the strain of going on speaking against the tendency to imbue names with such connotations was turning us into people with that tendency. We would talk as if there were only two identities left and everything was either Hindu or Musalman.

Saamne jo stengundhaari khada tha, uski sangeen se phootee shaan, uske seene ko gubbare kee trah phulaa gayee thee. Aur uske maathe par chandan ka tilak tha. The stengunner in front of us, the one with majesty bursting out of his muzzle, whose chest was puffed up like a balloon. And he wore a sandalwood tilak on his forehead.