Quotes by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

I am buoyant and expansive and uncontainable--but I always was so, only I never knew it!

Once I heard my mother say that each of us lives in a separate universe, one we have dreamed into being. We love pople when their dream coincides with ours, the way two cutout designs laid one on top of the other might match. But dream worlds are not static like cutouts; sooner or later they change shape, leading to misunderstanding, loneliness and loss of love.

The dream is not a drug but a way. Listen to where it can take you.

For men, the softer emotions are always intertwined with power and pride. That was why Karna waited for me to plead with him though he could have stopped my suffering with a single world. That was why he turned on me when I refused to ask for his pity. That was why he incited Dussasan to an action that was against the code of honor by which he lived his life. He knew he would regret it—in his fierce smile there had already been a glint of pain.But was a womans heart any purer, in the end?That was the final truth I learned. All this time Id thought myself better than my father, better than all those men who inflicted harm on a thousand innocents in order to punish the one man who had wronged them. Id thought myself above the cravings that drove him. But I, too, was tainted with them, vengeance encoded into my blood. When the moment came I couldnt resist it, no more than a dog can resist chewing a bone that, splintering, makes his mouth bleed.Already I was storing these lessons inside me. I would use them over the long years of exile to gain what I wanted, no matter what its price.But Krishna, the slippery one, the one who had offered me a different solace, Krishna with his disappointed eyes—what was the lesson hed tried to teach?

What did I learn that day in the sabha?All this time Id believed in my power over my husbands. Id believed that because they loved me they would do anything for me. But now I saw that though they did love me—as much perhaps as any man can love—there were other things they loved more. Their notions of honor, of loyalty toward each other, of reputation were more important to them than my suffering. They would avenge me later, yes, but only when they felt the circumstances would bring them heroic fame. A woman doesnt think that way. I would have thrown myself forward to save them if it had been in my power that day. I wouldnt have cared what anyone thought. The choice they made in the moment of my need changed something in our relationship. I no longer depended on them so completely in the future. And when I took care to guard myself from hurt, it was as much from them as from our enemies

Fennel, which is the spice for Wednesdays, the day of averages, of middle-aged people. . . . Fennel . . . smelling of changes to come.

She lifts a bowl of kheer and her thoughts, flittering like dusty sparrows in a brown back alley, turn a sudden kingfisher blue.

May your heart be mine, may my heart be yours. May your sorrows be mine, may my joys be yours.

Because it is the lot of mothers to remember what no one else cares to, Mrs. Dutta thinks. To tell them over and over until they are lodged, perforce, in family lore. We are the keepers of the hearts dusty corners.

The power of a man is like a bull’s charge, while the power of a woman moves aslant, like a serpent seeking its prey. Know the particular properties of your power. Unless you use it correctly, it won’t get you what you want.” His words perplexed me. Wasn’t power singular and simple? In the world that I knew, men just happened to have more of it. (I hoped to change this.)

Push away the past, that vessel in which all emotions curdle to regret.

I dont put much stock in remembering things. Being able to forget is a superior skill.

What is the nature of life?Life is lines of dominoes falling.One thing leads to another, and then another, just like youd planned. But suddenly a Domino gets skewed, events change direction, people dig in their heels, and youre faced with a situation that you didnt see coming, you who thought you were so clever.

Ebb and flow, ebb and flow, our lives. Is that why were fascinated by the steadfastness of stars? The water reaches my calves. I begin the story of the Pleiades, women transformed into birds so Swift and bright that no man could snare them.

She lifts her eyes, and there is Death in the corner, but not like a king with his iron crown, as the epics claimed. Why, it is a giant brush loaded with white paint. It descends upon her with gentle suddenness, obliterating the shape of the world.

But inside loss there can be gain, too,like the small silver spider Bela had discovered one dewy morning, curled asleep at the center of a rose.

Would you like to come in? I said. My hands were sweaty. Inside my chest an ocean heaved and crashed and heaved again.I would, he said. I saw his Adams apple jerk as he swallowed. Thank you.I was distracted by that thank you. We had moved past the language of formality long ago. It was strange to relearn it with each other.

I want to weep too, not for me but for us all--for rich or poor, educated or illiterate, here we are finally reduced to a sameness in this sisterhood of deprivation.

How can I forgive if you are not ready to give up that which caused you to stumble?

In the temple, I sit on the cool floor next to Grandfather, beneath the stern benevolence of the goddesss glance. Grandfather is clad in only a traditional silk dhoti--no fancy modern clothes for him. Thats one of the things I admire about him, how he is always unapologetically, uncompromisingly himself. His spine is erect and impatient; white hairs blaze across his chest.