I love cooking, and I can make real good rajma chawal. It is a time consuming process and only for the consumption of a select few very special people. Also, I can make delicious mutton biryani, but I must confess I have stolen the recipe from my mother.
No one can sustain rage for long. I am still angry and always will be. My dear son was stolen from me and his family to never return. He was killed for profit and lies. How can I not be angry? Sometimes though, the rage comes back.
The hardest part about writing fiction is finding long stretches of time to do it: for me, this means writing mostly on Saturdays and Sundays. But I am always thinking about my characters, jotting down ideas in stolen moments and hoping I'll be able to make sense of them when the weekend rolls around.