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“Yash had carried a lantern when he'd brought her here the night before Nisha's wedding. A camping lantern with the kind of white light that mirrored the moonlight and picked out the glitter in their clothes. It had turned the sequins on her ghaghra into a million stars that merged seamlessly with the silver threaded through his kurta, the endless universe of possibility inside them reflected around them.”

RomanticIndia And YashUnder The Stars
Book:Incense and Sensibility
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“With the kind of laugh that India had never expected to hear from him again, Yash reached for the bundle of skin folds. "And who do we have here?" Every bit of deliberate enunciation was gone from his voice. Instead his pitch jumped to that strange voice people reserved for babies. "Hey, there, beautiful baby!" And, damn it, the sun chose that moment to shoot a bright ray through a tree at his face. "This is Chutney," Ashna said in a matching high pitch, presenting Yash with the pug as though she were a particularly delicious ice-cream sundae. Chutney paused in her mouth-breathing to start lapping at Yash's face. India and China gasped. India reached out to take her away, but Yash was smiling into Chutney's face. Not his politician smile, not even his you've-amused-me, peasant smile. This smile yanked her back through the years, eyes disappearing into slits, too much teeth and gums. An explosion of unadulterated joy. Tremors rippled low in her belly, high in her heart.”

SmilePugYash Raje
Book:Incense and Sensibility
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“How were you naive enough to think you and Yash had a chance?" Naina said. "Because truth has to..." "... count for something," Yash and India said together. India spun toward him. And there it was, the endless peace of her gaze. Breath whooshed out of him, weight lifted off his shoulders. "Because love has to count for something." He took a step closer, and her body sagged, mirroring all the relief he was feeling. "I breathe differently when she's around. I feel... I feel alive in ways I never have.”

True LoveConfessionIndia And Yash
Book:Incense and Sensibility
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“What was wrong with people? Ashna didn't understand this obsession with other people's lives. Jonah pulled up Twitter and Instagram on his tablet and waved it about, parroting all the hashtags she and Rico now were: #knifegate #churrosolimp, and the one that made Jonah the giddiest: #Ashico, which when said out loud sounded far too much like the Hindi word ashiquo which, disastrously enough, meant "lovers.”

Social MediaCouplesHashtagsAshna And Rico
Book:Recipe for Persuasion
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“Hey, Abdul. How's the baby?" Nisha asked. The burly giant, who could snap your neck with his bare hands and shoot you dead from five hundred feet, went as soft and fuzzy as the teddy bear Yash had brought Abdul's newborn daughter yesterday. After seeing him hold the tiny pink bundle, Yash could not for the life of him stop thinking of the man as cuddly. "She's amazing. Has quite the lungs, just like her ammi." Abdul winked.”

FatherBodyguardGentle Giant
Book:Incense and Sensibility
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“You found me a female bodyguard? And you thought that would somehow make the job of bullying me into it easier?" She had the gall to grin. "Bingo. Wait here while I text her. We've made her wait long enough." He sank into a couch off in a private corner of the hospital waiting area. "I really pity poor Neel, you know that?" he said with all the spitefulness of a sibling who'd lost an argument. Her grin widened, a damn whoop of victory if he'd ever seen one. "You're so easy." He narrowed his eyes at her, deploying one of her own favorite strategies for getting her way. "You know Ma loves me more than you, right?" "Sorry, buddy, I'm the favorite by miles. Substantiate your claim by getting her to admit it, or shut up.”

BodyguardSibling RivalryFeminine Power
Book:Incense and Sensibility
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“As always, the dosas were perfect, crisp and lacy, and the unusual chef's addition of the habanero chutney made Naina's mouth burn in the best way. She'd inherited her ability to tolerate spice from her mother. Dr. Kohli was something of a wimp in this department, and so naturally Naina and her mother only ever ate the truly hot stuff when he wasn't around. "Never make people feel bad when you're better at something than they are," her mother had said with an unfamiliar amount of glee one night at dinner when her husband had been on call and she'd made the potato bhujia with enough red chili powder to make even Naina and her break into a sweat.”

Daddy IssuesSpicy FoodIndian CuisineMother Daughter Bond
Book:The Emma Project
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“Turning to the canvas bag, she pulled out a foil package. The smoky, buttery smell of naan made the different types of hunger coursing inside him mix together. "Does your mom actually make naan at home?" She opened the packet and held it in front of his nose, and he picked one up and shoved it in his mouth and almost died on the spot from the chewy, yeasty deliciousness. "Mummy's made it since before homemade naan was a trend. My parents have always had an old-fashioned tandoor oven in the house. Because Dr. Kohli needs his naan and kababs." The brightness sparkling in her eyes dimmed.”

HomemadeDaddy IssuesNaan Bread
Book:The Emma Project
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“I thought the only way I could erase the shame I brought on the family was by finding a man." The laugh he gave was precise and cruel, Dr. Kohli in a nutshell. "You didn't find a man. You found a child." Naina refused to wrap her arms around herself. She refused to let him see what his words did. "The only thing women like you want is someone to control." "No, that's what men like you want. All I want is a relationship that is not about control." He spat out another one of those laughs, lighter on the precision this time and heavier on the cruelty. "Doesn't the fact that you can only have that with a man who is twelve years younger than you tell you something?" Naina's arms went around her. "Doesn't it tell you that you're fighting nature? All the things you want, how you want to live. It's against nature, against God, against our culture, against any civilized culture. Even though people like you keep trying to bastardize it under the guise of progress." His voice was filled with righteous indignation. The voice of a man who knew everything. She looked him square in the eye. "Is it not against nature to hate your own child?”

Daddy IssuesVerbal Abuse
Book:The Emma Project
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“DJ, let Trisha look. She's really good at this doctor thing," Ashna said and Trisha Raje grinned at her as though she had just dropped the deepest curtsy in front of her. DJ picked up the colander filled with okra and moved to the fryer. "As I've already mentioned, my hands are fine. I hope yours are still worth as much as they were last evening." Definitely a petty bastard. That made her tilt her head in confusion again. Apparently, you needed no memory at all to get through medical school. Or maybe it was he who needed to have his head examined for remembering every word that had come out of her mouth like some fragile, egotistical half-wit.”

PaybackBastardPridefulDj CaineTrisha And Dj
Book:Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors
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“So you think someone is going to shoot at me twice in one campaign cycle?" Sticking out her hand, she started counting off on her fingers. "Reagan, Johnson, Nixon, Carter. They've all had over fifty assassination attempts. Some over a hundred!" His sisters were the earth's most annoying creatures. "Those are all presidents. And they all survived the attempts." "William Goebel, gubernatorial candidate. George Wallace, gubernatorial candidate." "You're in the wrong century." "And you're underestimating the power of racial hatred," she snapped. "Bill Richardson, Deval Patrick, Bobby Jindal, David Paterson, Susana Martinez, Michelle Grisham-" "And listing all the minority governors from this century proves what?" she snapped again. "It proves that we can run for elections without ending up dead.”

GovernorsPresidentsBickeringSibling RivalryPolitical CandidatesAssassination Attempts
Book:Incense and Sensibility
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“Well, don't you look all pleased with yourself, Baby Prince," Naina Kohli said. She had known Vansh his whole life and had the only voice on earth that had this particular impact on him. A potent combination of reprimand and amusement that made Vansh want to wipe his face like a toddler caught eating dirt, while also making him feel like no one else ate dirt quite as impressively as he did. "And don't you look resplendent, Knightlina," he said, raising his glass of celebratory bubbly at her. A flash of anger slipped past her guarded brown eyes. She hated her given name---enough to have legally changed it at eighteen. Vansh was the only person on earth who got away with using it anymore. And he only used it when that tone of hers made the otherwise nonexistent orneriness bubble up inside him. Then she smiled and did a quick half turn showcasing her charcoal-gray silk pantsuit. "Not bad for the spurned ex, ha?" she offered. "Not at all bad for the spurned fake ex," he countered.”

Childhood FriendsNicknameCalled OutGiven Name
Book:The Emma Project
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“Leaning over the tray he inhaled deeply, letting the steam-laden aroma flood all the way through him. The soft green clouds with the most delicate golden crusts smelled as perfect as they looked. Pistachio with a hint of saffron. was there even such a thing as a hint of saffron? It was the loudest understated spice, like a soft-spoken person you couldn't stop listening to. Like the hidden lilts inside a well-held aria. Like the beauty within making what someone looked like on the outside meaningless, slowly, one encounter at a time. No matter how subtle you tried to make it, saffron always shone through, it became the soul of your preparation. He nodded at Rajesh, who stood at the ready with the cashews DJ had candied to perfection with butter and brown sugar. He started to arrange three at the center of each ramekin in a clover of paisleys, then tucked a sugarwork swirl next to it to top things off just so.”

BakingSaffronSpiceAromasConfectionery
Book:Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors
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“Don't you think something about her is different? More responsive, more open than she's ever been?" "Ashna has always had too vulnerable a heart, Shobi. That's been the problem. She feels everyone's pain and internalizes it, and wants to take it away. I think the reason she's had such a hard time with you is that she didn't know what to do with yours. She finds your rage at the world too daunting. She blames herself for it.”

Reasonable DoubtAshna RajeMother IssuesRepressed Feelings
Book:Recipe for Persuasion
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“You'll be fine," she said to Rico when they got back, because he was still studying her and trying to make sense of her bizarre swings. "Cooking eggs is a standard test of basic cooking skill." "I know I'll be fine," he said, the full blast of his focus mapping her relief. The emeralds in his eyes were too bright. The way they had been that first time they'd met under the bleachers. The need to see what no one else cared to see inside her, intense and naked. It had disarmed her then. Today, it infuriated her. Made her brain forget the camera. Made her hands fly. She broke the eggs in a clean one-handed crack, whipped them ruthlessly into a thick froth, chopped the onions, cilantro, and green chilies in an unrelentingly brutal rhythm. All without breaking a sweat or sparing him a glance. With minutes to spare from the mere twenty they were given, she turned out a fluffy and perfectly moist omelet with garlic-infused oil rolled into a crisp, flaky paratha. Until they stood in front of the judges, she had forgotten where she was, who she was with. The only place the livid energy inside her seemed to have manifested itself was in what the judges declared "abject underseasoning." This made Ashna smile. When she looked at Rico, he was having the same reaction. For one quick meeting of their eyes, the ridiculously overdramatic statement joined them together with shared humor. His lips tilted up on one side. For the first time since they'd lined up to hear the challenge, she took a full breath.”

CookingAshna RajeAshna And RicoOmeletChallenging People
Book:Recipe for Persuasion
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“War is a violent thing but its purpose is often to protect your own, and to ultimately bring peace. Sometimes you have to go to war to move forward and past suffering, to get closer to our natural state as humans. That of equilibrium and well-being." Trisha simply nodded. The only time Esha ever lectured was when she'd seen something and she was trying to tell you what she'd seen. "When it's time to fight, it's okay to fight," Esha said. "Even if sometimes your biggest enemies may be hiding inside you. Not everyone who fights you is your enemy.”

Friends And EnemiesEnduring Hardships
Book:Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors
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“You know there's a history of unbalanced power, lack of safety and consent, that makes it different when it happens to a woman, right?" "I do know that, even though it's not that simple. I hope you're not planning to accuse me of encouraging them and asking for it." "You were, as a matter of fact, encouraging it greatly." Before he could argue, she raised a hand to stop him. "It was still inappropriate, the way my team behaved. I apologize and will reprimand them." "There's no need for that." "I know. But I will anyway. But the next time you pretend to know what it feels like to be violated by the unwelcome attention of the opposite sex, I want you to know that if as a result of it there was any chance that you could get hurt in any way, you should absolutely feel free to put an end to it by letting them know that you aren't interested and that it makes you uncomfortable.”

InjusticeSexual HarassmentUnwanted Advances
Book:The Emma Project
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“You think fighting for things is what makes you you, but that's only half of it. You can't make decisions that center only on your wants. You care about what everyone else wants. You care. That's what sets you apart. That's what makes you a public servant and not a politician. You want to change things for everyone. A person who puts his own gains ahead of others can never do that.”

SelflessnessPublic ServantYash Raje
Book:Incense and Sensibility
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“Time stilled. The constant need to spin stilled. Yash watched the scene before him, the power of what he was witnessing overtook his body. Every bit of helplessness that had been dragging at him stilled. He'd been obsessively practicing the pranayama India had taught him every morning and meditating through the surya namaskar. He'd become addicted to the escape of centering his mind and body as one. That's how this felt, this letting go, this being fully immersed in something out of his control. It felt good. Like someone had sliced the ropes tying him up with the sharpest blade. One flick, the cut clean and quick. He was unbound.”

ReleaseMeditativeAnxiety RecoveryYash RajeBreathing ExerciseRelieve Stress
Book:Incense and Sensibility
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