I wish I could go home. I've been on the road since May. I wonder if my dogs still remember me.

I remember the mentoring experiences of some teachers that I had, like a second term home room teacher in public school that really was very helpful to me.

'Macbeth' was the first play I ever read. In fact, I remember my brother Tom, who is six years older than me, coming home from school and telling me about it. He was the one that really got me going.

I briefly flirted with the idea of more stable career choices but they never excited me. I know it's a bit of a cliche but I remember doing school plays in primary school and feeling at home on the stage.

I remember unbelievable tension in our home. There were lots of meetings, lots of worries. I remember my father told me I had to be careful of what I said on the phone because it was tapped. And I remember how his friends adored and revered him.

I remember, when I was working in Bengaluru, Rajinikanth's film 'Sivaji' was releasing, and I wanted to watch it the first day, first show. My manager did not want me to take the day off, and I made up excuses stating that there was an issue at home and I had to go.

I can still remember. I was ill, and I was seven, and my father didn't want me to just read children's books. He came with Conan Doyle. I tried, and I liked it. I think the first I read was 'The Sign of the Four'; 'Study in Scarlet' was the next one. Then I guess I stayed home a few extra days from school to read.

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