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Quote by Sonali Dev

“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.”

Quote by Sonali Dev

Book:The Emma Project
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The Emma Project

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Sonali Dev

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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.”

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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?”

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“Carl discreetly turned his head to the left and then the right to make sure Mom wasn’t within hearing range. “I tried to stick it in er ass once and she didn’t speak to me for a week,” he nearly whispered before belting out a slur of loose chuckles. “And gettin’ ‘er to do ya on top? Forget about it!” In ways, I morphed into Carl’s description of the ideal woman. Like Mom, physical beauty was my ultimate priority. I spent hours on end stripped naked, posing in front of my full length bedroom mirror at every angle so that each wrinkle, roll, and pinch of fat could receive sharp scrutiny before I strived for complete self annihilation. I made it a habit of studying every Teen magazine model and the skinniest cheerleaders in my middle school yearbook. I observed their arms, legs, and hips. I held their images against mine with a goal for my bones to protrude further and calves spread further apart when standing straight. However, I saw the way Carl bent his head down and lowered his voice when he spoke about Mom, as if it was our job to keep a feisty, barking puppy believing that it was our guard dog. “Ure mom can’t help she got half ure I-Q,” Carl would chuckle.”

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