Ekta Quotes

I think I like it here. Alone. I have no one to talk to, and nothing to say.

True love is rare, and it's the only thing that gives life real meaning.

There are stories only you have to tell, because there is no one who looks at the world in the way you do. There is no one else who listens to the whispers tucked in a soft breeze or understands the wilting petals whimpering. There is no one who feels the earth in the way you do. You are the one.

Why should I be afraid of a little blood, I bleed a little every month and never die.

I was a happy boy until one day my girlfriend became invisible!!!!! Yes, she really became invisible!!!!!!

You are never going to run out of books to read because there are always stories waiting to be told, and there are always going to be books you haven’t read yet that will change your life as they unfold.

This is not where I was meant to be. Born to the wrong house, by a stroke of misfortune. The girls here have it all. Men in whorehouses exist only to serve. We are their guards, tailors, cooks and their musicians. Forever in the shadows. If only I could be a woman. With soft hands, big breasts and long hair. To have men fawn all over me, to see them rise and fall. Alas, but all I have is small feet.

Things change. As they are meant to. Nothing remains the same. Not the flesh on my hands, nor the smile on his face.

The wall between the two worlds is thin. Spirits roam.

What is real, what is not. Who can tell. We inhabit different worlds.

What will he do?’ ‘Every man has different needs.’ ‘What should I do?’ Chumki shrugged, ‘Lie under him and count the stars.

If only I could be a woman. With soft hands, big breasts and long hair. To have men fawn all over me, to see them rise and fall. Alas, but all I have is small feet.

Days passed slowly and the hours took even longer.

So who will I get today?’ asked one eagerly, ‘The most beautiful of them all,’ chuckled the eunuch. ‘What is she called?’ ‘Phulwati, Mrignaini, Meethi, Champa...’ Hira began reciting the poetic list of names. Little did the boys know that the whores down below were bald, toothless hags, some marked with pox, others filled with pus. The warm blanket of darkness made them all beautiful.

Soft, creamy mud clings to my hands. It creeps into my skin and now flows with my blood. How can I ever be rid of it.

It is not really my son’s fault, after all what can he do. Gambling is an inherited disease, who is he to fight it. Generations before him have succumbed to the rush of excitement, the lure of teasing fate, the brief moment of uncertainty and the prospect of an easy win. It needs no skill, not much effort and certainly no talent - only a deep wallet and a strong heart.

Darkness is a form of light. Remember that, before you ignite.

But in the end, we are all picturesque paper dolls, holding hands and letting go as we fall down into the cacophonies of triturated dreams.