They say that [I am icy, hard] because I'm sincere. Even too sincere. And because I don't waste time in flowery small talk, as people do in India, where the first half hour is spent in compliments: »How are you, how are your children, how are your grandchildren, and so forth.« I refuse to indulge in small talk. And compliments, if at all, I save for after the job is done. But in India people can't stomach this attitude of mine, and when I say, »Hurry up, let's get to the point,« they feel hurt. And think I'm cold, indeed icy, hard. Then there's another reason, one that goes with my frankness: I don't put on an act. I don't know how to put on an act; I always show myself for what I am, in whatever mood I'm in. If I'm happy, I look happy; if I'm angry, I show it. Without worrying about how others may react. When one has had a life as difficult as mine, one doesn't worry about how others will react. And now go ahead. You can ask anything you like.