Thursday, April 21, 2016

The Fine.

Dhanusha was sitting in the train .The train was moving at  medium speed .It was an Express train. The Sun had set.It was getting pleasant. The setting Sun had painted the sky in softer hues of orange,yellow & pink.It was getting cooler slowly & surely.Dhanusha was sitting near the window. Dhanusha 's hair was flying.She had short hair & so it fluttered ..Dhanusha felt great with short hair.And yet , her flying hair made it very rough & tangled.She sighed as she loved the wind in her hair, as the setting Sun disappeared on the horizon.

Dhanusha was returning from a family wedding. Dhanusha 's daughter was in college, Dhanusha decided , it was high time, she renewed her ties with her extended family. Dhanusha had been right.She met many aunts, uncles,cousins, nephews, nieces etc.And they all had a great time in the wedding. And now, she  was  returning home.

Dhanusha looked around & saw that it had become darker .Passengers on the side berths were men & they were talking & joking among themselves. They seemed to be  simple town people.One of them was smoking a beedi. The beedi was getting passed about between his friends who were chatting him up.Dhanusha failed to understand how people could light up just like that.All knew, that smoking caused cancer .And yet, so many continued to smoke. It was money going up in smoke followed by life going up in smoke as well.

And Dhansusha sighed. Men  are such damn fools .They drink, smoke & endure the aftereffects. Not only that, their families bore it more than them.Who would know it better, than her ? Her dad had been diagnosed with cancer five years back.And this, in spite of the fact, that he had smoked just for two  years when he was very young.And that too not daily.He would smoke when his friends would light up. And that had cost him dearly.She had been unable to see him suffer from cancer.Slowly ,life had ebbed away from her dad.She had been praying to Almighty to lessen her dad's suffering.And God had obliged.In one year, her dad was no more. Dhanusha was glad that he suffered no more. It was unbearable .In that one year, she had seen horrific cases in the hospital.And now ,these smokers had reminded her, all that was past.

Was it all past ? This was the present.It was happening right now.The smoking that is.Dhanusha saw , a railway guard walk up to the men who were chatting .He pulled up the person who was smoking.He asked , " You have to pay  fine as I have caught you smoking." All chatting.  stopped.The man who had been caught smoking ,dropped his beedi & tried to stamp it out. The gaurd said," I saw your beedi.You have to pay up. " The man pleaded," Saab, please let go.I will not smoke again." The guard said to others, " Please tell him to pay up..He has committed an offence.Can't you see, the sign which reads that smoking is prohibited in trains ? " The guard continued "I  am going on my rounds.When I return,I will collect the fine ." He left.

As soon as the guard was out of sight, there was loud laughter.Many men advised the culprit to pay some cash to the guard, to cover up the matter.Some recalled their brushes with the prohibition aspect.They  seemed to have committed similar offences. And none, seemed to be wiser after those episodes. The guard returned.He was pacified by some cash .He left.

And Dhanusha wondered if the cash offered would prevent cancer in the smoker who was caught smoking.That even the hefty fine could not prevent cancer after being paid, was a  foregone concluison.And yet, there was a belief ,that fines are only to make the public, law abiding.To make people civilised. And yet , civilised people try to cover up by bribing so that they can get away cheap.What they do not understand is that smoking kills.It hardly matters if fine is paid or bribe is paid.The effect is the same.Unless, it is understood that fine is to prevent smoking, smoking would continue with  its deadly spree.

Monday, April 18, 2016

Book Review : An Autograph for Anjali.

The spotlight on "An Autograph for Anjali " made me sign up for the review ! And I was delighted to read the book !

This is a romantic thriller by Sundari. Anjali is the lovely wife of millionaire Jayant Mathur.She is  always at his beck & call.Twenty years roll on .Their son Arjun has left for higher studies abroad. And Anjali has no clue what to do .She goes into depression as Jayant flaunts his mistress at a party. Anjali is advised to look up Nalini ,a shrink.Jayant is angry & yet goes along with his son's advice. Anjali needs a break is the doctor's advice. She starts part time job with Parth, a   self made man  & a  novelist.Arjun, her son books a Greece trip for parents. And Jayant has no time for that trip.Anjali feels rejuvenated by the trip. She is getting close to Parth or is it Parth getting closer ? Anjali has no idea & yet she feels positive.

She is  glowing as a result of her positivity or Parth or the trip or her new found confidence ?  .And as she emerges from her depression ,she confronts Jayant. Some days later, Jayant is found murdered.Police start suspecting Parth & Anjali .Parth hires a detective to set things right. is the detective able to solve the murder mystery ? Who has murdered Jayant ? Is it Anjali or Parth or a conspiracy by both of them ? And yet, would they both go the extent of killing somebody ? And why ? Or maybe there is another angle to this killing ? Who killed Jayant ? What happens to Anjali & Parth ? Are they able to keep away from the mutual attraction they feel for each other & go their separate ways ? Do they get hooked ? All this & more forms the rest of the story.

Sundari writes effortlessly.And the reader just flows with her narration. She describes the anguish , the dilemma  of the homemaker so empathetically.Needless to add, I am waiting for Sundari's next book !

Sundari Venkatraman


Jayant Mathur is found murdered in his bed, shot at point-blank range with his own revolver. Though she’s extremely disturbed by his death, Jayant’s wife Anjali is way more upset about something else. Who stands to gain by killing the multi-millionaire businessman?

Parth Bhardwaj is a friend and neighbour of the Mathurs. Parth is an author who goes by a pseudonym. He appears more than a friend to Anjali; while he’s also on good terms with her son Arjun who lives and studies in the UK. What role does he play in Anjali’s life? Jayant’s relatives are curious to know.

Jayant’s brother-in-law Rana is convinced that Parth and Anjali are the murderers. But Inspector Phadke has his own doubts about this theory. In comes Samrat, the private detective who appears as quiet as a mouse. Will he be able to find the murderer?

Will Anjali find happiness and peace?

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In 2014, Sundari self-published The Malhotra Bride (2nd Edition); Meghna; The Runaway Bridegroom; Flaming Sun Collection 1: Happily Ever Afters From India (Box Set) and Matches Made In Heaven (a collection of romantic short stories).

2015 brought yet another opportunity. Readomania came forward to traditionally publish this book - The Madras Affair - a mature romance set in Madras.

An Autograph for Anjali, a romance with a touch of suspense, is also a self-published novel. Going a step further, the author has published the paperback version through Notion Press.

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Saturday, April 16, 2016

Book Blitz : With You I Dance

Book Blitz

With You I Dance
Aarti V Raman


Meera Sagar had everything—the perfect job as a principal ballerina (for a prestigious New York ballet company) and a man who loved her as much as she loved him. But tragedy struck on the night
before her biggest performance, forcing her to do the one thing she never wanted to do—come back home. To Mumbai.

Now, a year later, Meera is still trying to pick up the pieces, while fending off marriage proposals from her well-meaning but traditional Gujarati family, and figure life out all over again. By starting a ballet school in Mumbai. But she has two problems. One, she doesn’t know anything about running a business. And two, she can’t dance. Not anymore.

Enter . . .
Abeer Goswami. Hotshot junior partner at a South Bombay law firm and a man nursing a broken heart. When he meets Meera again, the woman who left him, he tries his hardest to be her friend, to help her . . . and not let the past get in the way.

And then . . .
There is the sexy Zoya Sehgal. Meera’s only friend in the city and the woman Abeer is currently seeing. They say triangles have pointy edges, for a reason. Will Meera find a new dream in her ballet school? Can Abeer and Meera find their way back to each other again? And, most important, has Meera danced for the last time?

With you I dance is a warm, funny, at times heart-rending, love story of second chances, true love, and finding yourself when your dearest dream has vanished.

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About the Author

Aarti V Raman is an established novelist in the romantic thriller genre (White Knight, Kingdom Come) with her third book, a contemporary romance titled “With You I Dance” out soon with Fingerprint Publishing.

29 years old, she graduated from Mumbai University in 2007 with a degree in Mass Media focused on Journalism, which provided her the perfect background for conducting sound research on any project. She then went on to study Creative and Professional Writing at Deakin University in Melbourne for post-graduation in 2008. It was there that she learned to hone her craft and lifelong ambition of writing romances that had strong characters and stronger stories that remained etched in the reader's minds.

While waiting for her big break, Aarti pursued commercial writing and gained a vast amount of knowledge (from fishing tackle to soft toys) that she claims have helped her with molding better stories. Her first novel "White Knight" was published by Leadstart in 2012 and gave her the impetus to continue writing. In 2013, her work was excerpted in the Tamil Edition of Mills and Boon novels. And in 2014, her short story "Post-Coital Cigarette" was chosen to be part of the Rupa Romance Anthology "An Atlas of Love" curated by bestselling author Anuja Chauhan.

Her latest novel "Kingdom Come" (Harlequin MIRA) has enjoyed a brief stay at the bestseller lists in Amazon India. Her work is represented by Red Ink Literary Agency, Delhi. And very recently, she was a speaker and panellist at the Goa Arts and Literary Fest 2014, Vth Edition.

She is currently expanding her skill set to include copy editing, content marketing, and creative writing workshop that help her explore the wonderful world of words in various forms.

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Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Book Review : Dog Eats Dog.

Dog eats Dog is a hilarious take on marketing management. It is a short & interesting read at ninety five pages.

This is a tale of Spike who has no idea about what to do with his money which is enormous. His nephew Jerry is asked by Spike to look up some businesses so that Spike can use some of his money. Jerry chooses dog food .And Spike ends up making profits. Spike has tasted blood now & so hires an entire team to make more profits.Besides, he has to compete with Tom & his assistant Jasper who have ventured into cat foods. How Spike & Tom try to run ahead of the other, forms the rest of the story. And in all this rat race , both Jerry & Jasper are are getting breathless & yet cannot stop.They have to keep running in circles.Their goal seems near & yet so far.From Dog foods, springs an entire range of products like dog  shampoos,etal.Even surveys are done to understand if dogs liked dog food slightly, moderately, etc !  Ditto for cat foods & the battle spills over & how !

The author opines that this pseudo history of a tale invented jargon used generously in Marketing Management .This jargon masks valueless sentences as wise ones so that it is seldom understood by others.

It is overflowing with gems like  ..." How is it that all the people around you know more about the best way to lead  your life than you do yourself ? " This question is a perennial one & has bothered humanity since time immemorial ! And that is why, I would recommend this book as it makes us laugh  heartily !

A Dog Eat Dog-Food World 
C. Suresh
A Fablery Publications 


A hilarious pseudo-history of marketing management, which explicitly denies resemblance to any actual history, and which will be horrified if some semblance be found. ‘A dog eat dog-food world’ is the story of a man who discovered that the path of life is strewn with treadmills and, if you get on one by mistake, you could keep running all your life to stay in the same place. The story of how just minding your own business can lead to unexpected consequences, guided by the ‘invisible hand’ of long dead economists. Anything you learn from the book – be it the basics of marketing management or a satirical view of Society – you do at your own risk.

The tale only dogs the doings of Spike Fortune who only sought to feed dogs and Jerry Fortune who, being fortuneless, gets dragged helter-skelter by his uncle Spike’s careening pursuit of commercial success; Spike’s rival Tom Rich, who is unwillingly dragged into upstaging Spike and tries to do it by teasing the palates of cats, helped by the bumbling efforts of his nephew, Jasper Rich who would rather be chasing girls than chasing cats.

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Fiction has been an addiction but the need to make a living took Suresh through Chemical Engineering and a PGDM at IIM-Bangalore and, from thence, to a long 16 year stint in the area of finance with specific expertise in fertilizer subsidies and a further two years as consulting expert in the same area. That, in his words, about sums up the boring part of his life, except for the people he was privileged to meet.

Otherwise, he can be described as a mess of contradictions – a bookworm but avid trekker; alone but never lonely; enjoys solitude but loves company; lazy but a perfectionist, the litany is endless. Trekking, which side-tracked him from the writing for which he quit his job, is a major passion and he does, at least, one trek in the Himalayas every year in addition to numerous local treks.

He reignited his passion for writing with a fairly popular blog The blog has been rated among the Top 5 humour blogs in India, twice in succession - in 2014 and 2015 - by BlogAdda, and has also been listed third among the Top Humour Blogs by Baggout.

He also has a short story published in a collection “Uff Ye Emotions” and has edited and written a novelette in an ebook anthology “Sirens spell danger”

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Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Spotlight : A Thousand Upcoming Words

A Thousand Unspoken Words 
Paulami Duttagupta
A Readomania Publications 


A hero, a person who displays great courage for the greater good, can also fall. But what happens to a fallen hero? A Thousand Unspoken Words is the unique journey of a hero who falls.

The champion of the underdogs, the writer who uses the nom de plume Musafir is famous in Kolkata. His incisive criticism of the injustices around him earn him many enemies but he holds his ideals above all else. Scathing attacks at his books and a night of hide and seek from political goons leads Musafir unto a path he never liked, faraway from his ideals. He runs away and chooses the comforts of money over the travails of following one’s ideals. The hero falls.

But Tilottama, passionate fan’s hopes don’t. When he comes back after many years, emotions, love and lust take charge and an affair brews. Will she bring back her hero? Will he rise again? Or will the thousand untold words, the many stories of the ideal writer be lost forever?

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Paulami DuttaGupta is a novelist and screen writer. She shuttles between Kolkata and Shillong. She has worked as a radio artist, copy writer, journalist and a television analyst at various stages of her life, having been associated with AIR Shillong, The Times of India—Guwahati Shillong Plus, ETV Bangla, The Shillong Times, Akash Bangla and Sony Aath.As an author, her short stories have appeared in various anthologies and literary magazines. A Thousand Unspoken Words is her fourth book. Paulami also writes on politics, social issues and cinema. Her articles have appeared in Swarajya, The Forthright and NElive.

Paulami is associated with cinema and her first film, Ri-Homeland of Uncertainty received the National Award for the Best Khasi Film. Her second film Onaatah—Of the Earth is at post production stage and will release in 2016. She is currently working on her third screenplay. A short film tentatively titled ‘Patjhar’ is also in the pipeline.

Paulami is a complete foodie and is almost obsessed with watching one film every day. She also loves reading—political and social commentaries are her favourite genre. Literature classics and books on cricket are also a part of her library, apart from a huge collection of romances. Jane Austen’s fictional character Mr. Darcy is her lifelong companion. She is an ardent fan of Rahul Dravid and has been following all news about him for almost twenty years now.

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Friday, April 1, 2016

Book Review : Colour Me Rich

This is a story of Akash Saigal , a talented & prolific painter.It is also the  tale of a rich girl ,Zenobia. Zenobia & Akash meet & fall in love.It is love at first sight. Akash loves the luxurious lifestyle bequeathed to him courtesy marriage.Akash is in the spotlight always : sometimes for his work & at other times because he is being projected like the best painter of the decade. The honeymoon has begun.

 Akash has a good friend in Suma.Zenobia gets increasingly possessive about Akash & the fights begin.Akash feels fed up of the daily parties & social gatherings which leave him no time for his love of painting. Zenobia feels proud in exhibiting to the world at large,that Akash is her hubby.

Zenobia gets injured .One day, she is found dead. Akash is the prime suspect.Investigations begin.Akash is getting frustrated as he is just unable to paint. What is holding him back ? Is it guilt ? Has he killed Zenobia ? Or , his frustration has some other reason ? Is he innocent as he claims to be ? Then , why are his canvases being folded back blank ? The story ends in an emotive climax which stuns ! The story is narrated interestingly as it keeps going back & forth between yesterday & today.

Chapters are short & egg the reader to go on. A good read about the lives of painters ,their hardships & their struggles in todays' world.

Color Me Rich 
Mohan Deep 
A sensitive love story of a handsome and talented struggling painter Akash Saigal. What happens when he marries an extremely rich and beautiful artist and art investor Zenobia Taraporevala?


J J School of Art, Mumbai.

Taking a charcoal pencil, Akash Saigal started drawing the wood-and-stone structure, popularly known as ‘Kipling Bungalow’. He was sketching sitting on a bench on which, in another era, K K Hebbar, M F Husain, Syed Haider Raza, Sadanand Bakre, V S Gaitonde, even Dadasaheb Phalke had sat with their sketchbooks, sketching the house where the author of The Jungle Book was born.

Ganpat Gupte appeared along with two of his gang. Gupte was the nephew of a minister, or so he claimed, and had the arrogance that comes with power.

“Ae Akash, kae karto?”

Akash looked up at the trio and said, “Nothing much. Just a drawing.”

“Okay. What is the day today?”


“I should have known.Tere ko blue shirt hai na?”

Akash didn’t get the connection, but Gupte’s chamchas laughed knowingly.

“Didn’t you get it?”


The three boys sang in unison, “Monday, blue shirt. Tuesday, black shirt. Wednesday, blue shirt. Thursday black shirt. Friday, blue shirt. Saturday, black shirt. Sunday…laundry!”

If Akash was hurt, he didn’t show it. He laughed sheepishly and continued sketching the bungalow.

But he would never forget this.


The elevator zoomed up, taking Akash directly to the penthouse on the 60th floor of Apollo Towers, and stopped with stomach-curdling smoothness. The door slid open to reveal his luxuriously done-up lounge.

He came out of the lift, turned down the passage, and walked over the deep-pile rug to the lounge.

He had returned from the salon.

He felt cleaner and fresher after his bimonthly facial – only Tanveer could give him a satisfactory shave - and pedicure. He liked to have his moustaches- like John Lennon's - done like in the Sixties, and he liked sideburns.

His head was still heavy from drinking until the late hours, but he looked much better than he felt. His studio was to the right, almost hidden behind the lavish bar facing him as he entered.

Perched 550 feet above the city of Mumbai, he could see the Queen’s Necklace and the World Trade Centre. From Zenobia’s bedroom, the Gateway of India and the high dome of the Taj Mahal Hotel.

Pran smiled at him.

Akash returned the smile, picked up the bottle of Blue Label and poured himself a stiff drink.

“Isn't it a little early for a drink?”

Without saying anything, Akash smiled, and switched on the TV.

The TV screen flashed a story over a video shot of Zenobia with him in happier times, followed by a shot of the Mumbai Police Commissioner’s heritage Gothic-style building and a subtitle: 'Mumbai Police give clean chit to Akash Saigal.'

The newsreader said:

“Based on the findings of the forensic department and investigation, the Mumbai Police has declared the death of noted artist and socialite Zenobia Taraporevala suicide. It may be recalled that a year ago, Zenobia died from a fall from her 60th-floor penthouse. There were questions about her death. Was it a suicide, or an accident, or was she pushed to her death? Her husband, the famous artist Akash Saigal, was under a cloud all these months. It has now been established that tired of being confined to a wheel chair after a car accident, a depressed Zenobia committed suicide.”

Pran jumped out of his seat, still listening to the newsreader with open-mouthed amazement. He shouted: “Wow!”

Both the men hugged.

A shot of Prime Minister Narendra Modi now flashed on the screen, as the newsreader continued, “Prime Minister Narendra Modi will visit Singapore….”

Akash smiled tiredly at Pran.

“You already knew about it?”

Akash nodded and absent-mindedly picked up an envelope. He took out the card, glanced at it, and pushed it back. It was an invitation to his own function.

“Boss, when do we leave?” Pran asked.
“We have lots of time. The inauguration is after three hours, and the ministers never come on time. Agar aa bhi gaya toh hamari woh Fareeda baithi hai. Sambhal legi. Dad will take care of it. Chal baith, tu bhi le.”

“No, not me. I’m driving,” Pran said solemnly.

Akash knew that this was not the time to drink. He shouldn’t appear sloshed in front of the entire world and the prying media. He took another sip, and changed the news channel. 

And found himself staring at a picture of Zenobia on the screen. The still picture changed to a video shot of Zenobia and he at a party.

The newsreader was ranting:

“In India, the law mandates that the husband be questioned for cases involving the death of a woman within seven years of marriage. Akash and Zenobia had been married for barely two-and-a-half years. And Zenobia had died under mysterious circumstances, falling from the French window of her penthouse! The police always look for ‘the other woman’ in a case like this.”

The TV showed a shot of Suma, followed by a video shot of Suma and Akash emerging from the JW Marriott in Juhu. The newsreader went on: “And they found her in Suma. Suma Malkani, the beautiful ghazal singer.”

The State Minister for Cultural Affairs, Nanasaheb Palekar, was to launch the art school, named after Zenobia Taraporevala-Saigal, that evening at Powai. There had been several protests because of the controversy over her death, but the minister ignored them all.

A protest was planned for the same day by Kapila Khandelval's NGO. It was unclear whether the NGO would go ahead with the protest or cancel it in view of the clean chit given to Akash by the police.

This project had been his baby and Zenobia's dream. The government had given the land and the Taraporevalas had put in the money. Fareeda had inserted a business angle even in this dream project of Zenobia's. The Zenobia-Akash Saigal School of Art had become the Zenobia-Akash Saigal School of Art and Business Management. She also had plans for a Madame Tussauds Wax Museum in an annex. The minister had given the nod for that, too.

Akash’s mobile rang.

He looked at the screen and let it ring.

Taking a sip of his drink, he moved towards his den. He stepped into his room, and before he could shut the door, the phone near the bar table rang.

“Boss?” Pran said. “Fareeda is on the line.”

Fareeda would be having kittens without him. Akash’s association with the project had given it respectability and even a cultural cause, and got the plot at one-eighth its market value, and all the permissions.

"Fuck her!" Akash said, but he answered the phone anyway. 

Fareeda seemed frantic.

"The media will be here in three hours. And the minister, too."

Akash said, “Fuck the media!" and hung up.

The TV newsreader went on:

“Before Akash Saigal hit the big time, he lived in a small apartment in Adarsh Nagar, in the western suburbs. His paintings didn't earn him enough to buy a decent vehicle. He travelled by buses and cabs. While Zenobia almost took a sabbatical, Akash shot to fame with his mixed media and three-dimensional installations after marrying her.”

Leaning against the soft, cool leather of a luxurious sofa, Akash said, "Cigarettes?"

Pran was already sliding open the glass door of a cabinet. A carton of Marlboros had just one packet left. He gave the packet to Akash, grinned, and threw the carton in the trash box.

They might have been sharing the same flashback, the same past.

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Mohan Deep, is an Indian author, painter and Feng Shui Master. Mohan Deep is the author of ‘The Mystery and Mystique of Madhubala’ (1996), ‘It’s My Life’ (Novel) (1997), ‘Simply Scandalous: Meena Kumari’ (1998), ‘Eurekha!’ – an unauthorized biography of Rekha. (1999), ‘Four Options’ (2000), ‘Feng Shui for the Bold & Beautiful, the Rich and Famous’ (2001) and ‘Nehru and the Tantrik Woman’ (2002). After a sabbatical of a decade, during which he touched upon the lives of people as a Feng Shui Master, he was back with The Five Foolish Virgins( 2013). Mohan Deep is arguably the only Indian author to write what is often described as controversial, unauthorized star biographies in India. Columnist-journalist and former editor of 'Illustrated Weekly of India', Khushwant Singh called him 'a truly gifted gossip writer'. “The maverick writer”, like columnist-reviewer-poetess.

Tara Patel described him has also been called William Goldman of Bollywood’s stars (By Behram Contractor, the Editor of Afternoon Despatch & Courier) (Source) Kitty Kelly of India (By R K Bajaj, the Editor of ‘The Daily’). Interestingly, almost every book he has wrote/penned has invited controversies for its bold content.

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