I haven’t copied anything directly from the book. I’ve just used the same plot. How can somebody determine that I have stolen the idea of another book?
She always felt that letters that were handwritten were a true reflection of one’s feelings. She also liked this medium of communication
Sakhi stood still, tongue-tied, when her teacher questioned her. Otherwise, she would have been the first to answer any question her teacher put
Me, the brainy North Indian as Sally called me, and she, the American beauty with brains, had met in a library in California.The initial spark of love..
The thing that I hated most while growing up was the summer holidays. It meant that I had to pack my suitcase and board the train
I banged the typewriter keys, harder each time. Making the monotonous noise to mask the one in my mind. The voices in my head,
I felt something sinking within me. Nothing felt similar. Nor the familiar faces, nor the shops, nor the kiosks and more over the paper print smell
I was furiously typing on; typing the rest of my last story. Words were cascading down through my finger tips and my imagination tinged with real life experience
Her long elegant fingers, marriage ring missing on them, stop fluttering over the keys as a pain bursts anew from the core of her heart and fat tears roll down her cheeks
She knew she can never see him again. She only wished she had the courage to talk with him when she had the chance. But now it was too late