I am committed to writing appropriate books for the middle grades. This means no bad language, no gratuitous or explicit violence, and no sexual content beyond what you might find in a PG-rated movie – expressions of who likes whom, holding hands, and perhaps the occasional kiss. The idea that we should treat sexual orientation itself as an adults-only topic, however, is absurd. Non-heterosexual children exist. To pretend they do not, to fail to recognize that they have needs for support and validation like any child, would be bad teaching, bad writing, and bad citizenship.
Bes had indeed put on his ugly outfit. He climbed onto the roof of the limbo and stood there, legs planted, arms akimbo, like superman-exept with only the underwear. I wasn't sure what to say except: "Put some clothes on!" "These children are under my protection," Bes insisted. "I don't know you," I said, "I never met you before today." "Nonsense. You expressly asked for my attention." "I didn't ask for the Speedo Patrol!
I shopped at Harrods and Louis Vuitton, as they were top on my priority list. And that's when a friendly shopkeeper told me that I could get mugged as my luxury bags were screaming for attention. And he gave me garbage bags to cover them. So here I was walking around in London with garbage bags in my hand.
I was taking a connecting flight from Vijayawada to Hyderabad and Kajol was on the same flight. We were waiting for the lift and when I got in, the doors began closing. Kajol and her manager were all set to get in, but by then, the lift began moving up. I was so embarrassed that when I met her later, I apologized for the goof up.