When Our Worlds Collide by Aniesha Brahma

About the Book:

Akriti has led a pretty much sheltered life. 
Zayn has been shuttled from city to city when he was growing up. 
She is comfortable watching her life from the sidelines. 
He wants to feel rooted to a place he can call ‘home’. 
They meet each other quite by chance. 
And both seize the chance to be someone they both need in their lives: 
For Zayn, it’s a 'Partner-In-Crime'. 
For Akriti, someone who just knows how to be there for her… 
When their worlds collide, 
It is not what either of them expected it to be. 
Zayn has a steady girlfriend. And Akriti has a crush on him. 
What happens when these two become friends? 
The biggest adventure of their lives? Or the road to heartbreak? 
What happens when two completely different people collide? 
Do they become friends? Or, is their friendship doomed from the start? 
'When Our Worlds Collide' is the story of two twenty-three-year olds, Who are finally growing up and finding their feet in the world. 
A tale of friendship and love, crushes and betrayals, messes and second chances, Marriage and divorce… and the elusive happily ever after! 

Book Links:
Goodreads I Amazon

Meet (Most of) the Characters of When Our Worlds Collide

- Akriti – The 23-year-old protagonist who runs her mother’s little café. She lives a lonely existence because she is too afraid of letting people get close to her, for she fears they would leave her and cause unbearable pain.

- Zayn – He is Akriti’s ex-classmate, Nimmi’s boyfriend, who comes into her life pretty much by accident. He forces Akriti to come out of her shell, and is pretty much one of her only friends.

- Ayoub – He is a 21-year-old, who helps Akriti run the café. He likes her but knows that he shouldn’t act on those feelings…yet.

- Akriti’s Mother – In order to save Akriti from a very bitter truth, her mother alienates her from her life.

- Akriti’s Father – He had left his family for another woman when Akriti was 13 years old.

- Gia – Ayoub’s cousin, who happens to come into Akriti’s café a lot.

- Esha – Gia’s best friend. She also harbors a crazy crush on Ayoub.

- Ryan – Gia and Esha’s friend and classmate.

- Nancy – Akriti’s father’s fiancée.

- Riley – Nancy’s son from her previous marriage.

About the Author:

Aniesha Brahma knew she wanted to be a writer since she was six years old. She was schooled in Dolna Day School and went on to pursue B.A., M.A., and M.Phil in Comparative Literature from Jadavpur Univeristy. She currently lives in Kolkata, with her family and five pet cats. The Secret Proposal was her debut novel, followed by The Guitar Girl. She was a contributing author with her story The Difference, in the anthology: Voices, Old & New. When Our Worlds Collide is her third work of fiction, and first novella.

Stalk Links:

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Interview with Author Sachin Dev

~ Book Blast ~

About the Book:

The Third Yuga is slowly drawing to a close. Nam – the greatest Empire on Janani – is going to face some fierce winds of change. Seers foresee omens of death and destruction in the return of the Banished One – A God who will claim the ashes of this world as revenge. While out in the streets, rumours abound - of older forgotten powers stirring.

Caught in this maelstrom of a power struggle between Gods are three ordinary lives: General Fateh, the most celebrated soldier in Nam who starts to question his faith, Ishan – a gifted orphan who struggles to comprehend his destiny and Abhaya – a young monk in search of truths about this world. Their choices and actions will shape the destiny of this scarred world that becomes the playground for vindictive Gods.

In a world where Rakshasas arise out of left-over traces of Maaya and twilight forms the portal to countless worlds around us for Daityas and Yakshis to dance through, a God is only as powerful as those who believe.And when Gods rise, faith of men will be tested…And broken.

Buy Links:
Paperback: Flipkart * LandmarkOntheNet * Infibeam * Pustak Mandi 
eBook: Newshunt * Google Play

Interview with the Author:

When did you decide to become a writer?
Well, there was no clear “The penny dropped and realization dawned” moment that told me I had to follow my heart and be a storyteller. My love for reading gradually transformed into one for the writing along the way. I have always been a big bibliophile. From the time I got gifted the storybook of “Noddy and his friends” when I was five – and then somewhere in pre-teen years, I thought I should write my own version of a story that is perhaps more exciting than the Secret Seven and Famous Five series. Must have been eight or nine when I penned my first story that I called the Famous Trio series#1. A bad mash up of some Tintin adventures and my over worked imagination set in Florida and the Amazon jungles.  

What are your ambitions for your writing career?
Well, the outer space is the limit when it comes to my writing career ambitions! While I have always wanted my first book to be an epic fantasy ( that’s the genre that I love the most!) I want to try and experiment across genres. So for starters, I would like to wrap up my first trilogy – Wheels of Janani, onto book-2 and 3. I am sitting on an incomplete manuscript for a contemporary boy-meets-girl falls-in-love Cinderella story set in modern day India – as well ideas bubbling up for countless other sub-genre stories. Like a zombie apocalypse set in Kochi, a space opera that I’ve started writing, a historical fiction about the port city of Muziris in Kerala. So, as Calvin tells Hobbes, the days are just packed! 

Give us an insight into your main character. What does he/she do that is so special?
So there are three main protagonists in this story – each of them unique in their own manner. 
There’s Ishan – a gifted eleven year old boy studying as an acolyte within the Palace whose curiosity knows no bounds.  But this trait of his leads him to trouble all the time – and this one time, stumbling upon secrets that will unravel everything that he has been taught so far about himself and his world – might just prove too costly. 
Abhaya is part of this monastic sect banned within the Empire for being unbelievers to the true faith – a resolute young man born and bred of the desert. However one drunken mistake with his friends sets him fleeing from the wrath of the Empire – and the only thing that can save him are hidden truths about this world and its rulers. 
General Fateh is a living legend – a man even whom Graaki, the ancient God of death fears. But he is sick of the war and bloodshed in the name of the Empire and only wants to retire in peace to the Capital. But the shadowed hallways within the Capital may be far bloodier than he bargained for. And soon enough, he starts to question his own faith and loyalty. 

Do you have a special time to write or how is your day structured?
Morning person all the way! So I get most of my writing done before my hectic work-day starts. I try and put away a thousand words per day – but there are periods of lull when I sit and stare at the blue sky without putting down much. 

Where do the ideas come from?
While I’m heavily influenced by a lot of the stuff that I read – I keep myself updated on the latest in speculative fiction as I get sent books for review all the time, so a lot of my writing style is inspired by the authors I love. 
The Ideas – well, they come fast and furious all the time. For every novel I have an “idea” file where I collate all those cool little nifty ideas that strikes me whenever (you could try Evernote app to tag such!) and I always do a “story outline” – and “character” outline – then divide stories into chapters filled with side notes what characters POV is featured and which major plotline would I write about. 
It has helped me so far! Books on Indian mythology (For example, the legend of the Andhakan killed by Shakti – was a demon who could re-generate from every drop of his blood spilled on the ground. This caused me to start thinking about ‘rakshasas’ – as demonic creatures born of the union of the left over traces of Maaya that originated from the seeping wounds of a Goddess punished to sleep buried deep inside the Earth and spirits from the netherworld. Different forms arise depending on contact of the blood with different substances!) Different folklore and world mythology stories from books and the internet - they all help form different parts of my own world building. 

Do you work to an outline or plot or do you prefer just see where an idea takes you?
Frankly while I would like to be more organized in terms of plotting, I usually let the story write itself as I go along. More of a pantser as opposed to a plotter.

Any tips on how to get through the dreaded writer’s block?
I frankly don’t think I am qualified enough to answer that question. What with just one book published (wink!) 
I myself have gone through blue phases where I’ve sat and doodled staring at my empty laptop screen. Being methodical in terms of plotting probably helps. You can always utilize that time to do research for the book! If you are the type who gets fired up by deadlines, then by all means set some for yourself. Have daily goals if it motivates and pushes you. One thing about writing – like any other craft, it only gets better with practice. And it definitely requires a lot of discipline to keep at it. You wont get it right the first time but the important thing is to get it done. You can always edit and spit shine polish up your manuscript a hundred times over. But getting that first draft out is very important where you don’t self-check yourself. It’s tough but very doable. My first draft of the novel was around one-hundred thirty thousand words. The final edited version stood at less than hundred thousand. 

What can we expect from the series?
First book, Faith of the Nine introduces us to this world, Janani – on the brink of an impending apocalypse at the end of the third yuga. We get acquainted with some of the major players whose deeds and action can rewrite the last chapter of this crumbling world.  Pawns are being moved around and set in place for a showdown later in the series. The bugles of war are beginning to sound in the distance. 
Wheels of Janani is a three-part series– So the second book, Rise of the Nine will chronicle the struggles of the group tasked with saving the world – exploring their ill-fated journeys. The battle-lines are being drawn. Conspiracies come to light, truths are shattered and a desert-city becomes the central point of a massive battle for survival as drones of shadowy assassins and armies of the undead converge during the night of the blood moon. 
Third book (tentatively called Triumph of the Nine) – which I am still plotting out – will finally see the shadows of war converge and the explosive showdown between the two opposing forces – gods and human alike - as the fate of the world, Janani hangs in balance.

About the Author:

Sachin discovered Tolkien in his teens, alternative rock as a new adult and digital marketing in pretty much his late twenties. These still form a large wedge in his circle of life. Travel, radio and theatre have also figured in that ever-expanding and diminishing circle.

On perhaps a more prosaic note, he is an engineer from BITS Pilani and holds an MBA from Indian School of Business. Attribute the love for numbers and pie-charts to this. He is currently based in Bangalore and happily married to Harini. He spends an inordinately large amount of time chasing after his two dogs (who love the free life a bit too much) when he is not busy dreaming up fantasy worlds full of monsters. And beautiful Yakshis, of course.

He can usually be found ranting on twitter under the handle @xenosach, devouring books and talking about them on his blog. You can always stalk him online at his official website

Soul Warrior by Falguni Kothari

About the Book:

Twisted myths. Discretion advised. 

Fight fate, or succumb to destiny?

In the dark Age of Kali, the Soul Warrior alone stands guard over the Human Realm, protecting its denizens from evil-willed asuras or demons. When a trick of fate appoints him guru to a motley crew of godlings, he agrees to train them as demon hunters against his better judgment. Suddenly, Lord Karna is not only battling the usual asuras with sinister agendas, but also rebellious students and a fault-ridden past.

Spanning the cosmic realms of mythic India, here is a tale of a band of supernatural warriors who come together over a singular purpose: the salvation of Karna’s secret child.



Book Links:
Kobo * iBooks * Amazon US * Amazon UK * Amazon Canada


Read an Excerpt:

CHAPTER ZERO

DWANDA-YUDDHA: THE DUEL

The Himalayan Mountains.
Five thousand years ago.


Absolute darkness shrouded the Human Realm, and had for three days and three nights. Some believed the occurrence was prophetic, like the prolonged amavasya or new moon night that had heralded the Great Kuru War two thousand years ago. The war had given birth to the dark Age of Kali, the age of asura. In contrast, hope was ripe that this event would trigger the Age of Light. But the Bard wasn’t here to succumb to superstition. 

The first day without the sun’s light had spread confusion and chaos across the realm. The second day had brought desperation in the breasts of humans and fear in the belly of Celestials. The third day—today—was a feast for the asuras. Death lay everywhere. 

The human world burned without its sun. How soon before the Heavens went up in flames?

The Bard’s troubled eyes reread the last line. Then he deliberately scratched it off, lifting his long, pointed talon from the parchment made of dry palm leaf. With a sigh, he rested his aching hand on his trembling thigh. He would spare a moment to ease his body, and his mind from the strain of observation and due recordkeeping. If he didn’t, he’d forget his duty as Witness of the Cosmos, and begin to question fate. 

Despite the fire that crackled close to his right knee, and the feathered form of his upper body, he was cold. An icy wind had settled around the Pinnacle of Pinnacles, where he sat cross-legged on a seat made of rock and snow. He’d chosen this perch because it gave him an impartial view of the events happening in the world. He was the Bard, entrusted with keeping the Canons of the Age of Kali, just as the Soul Warrior was entrusted with keeping the Human Realm safe from asuras. Would they both fail in their duty today?

The Bard shook off the heavy despair the darkness had brought into the world. He mustn’t judge. He shouldn’t question. He would sharpen the talon on his forefinger, dip it into the vessel of ink kept warm by the fire, and write this tale. That was all he could do. Be the witness to history.

So he raised his feathered hand and began to write again while his eyes, sparked with power, knowledge and magic, saw clearly events unfolding from great distances. A thousand kilometers to his right, Indra, the God of War and Thunder, fought the Dragon. Indra did not fare well. But that didn’t concern the Bard as much as the clash between the Soul Warrior and the Stone Demon. Over and over, his eagle eyes were drawn to the duel taking place in the heart of the world, not only because it was a magnificent battle to behold, for it was, but because its outcome would decide mankind’s destiny.

The Soul Warrior was more than a great warrior. Karna was a great soul. Fair, honorable, brave and resilient, he was the perfect protector of the Human Realm. Of course, there were other reasons he’d been chosen to fill the office of Soul Warrior—there always were when Gods and demons were involved. But Karna’s existence was a testament to righteous action and if anyone could bring back the day, it would be him. 

But how did one vanquish stone, the Bard wondered?

Avarice and cruelty, two nefarious desires, had made Vrtra and Vala attack the Human Realm. Three days ago the Dragon had swallowed the Seven Rivers in the north, and the Stone Demon had imprisoned the Sun God, his daughter, and all the cattle of the region in his cave.

The Bard paused his writing as a thin vein of lightning winked across the skies, but without the accompanying roar. Indra’s strength waned. His thunderbolt hadn’t left Vrtra screaming in pain this time. The Bard spared a moment’s attention on the duel, just enough to note that the Maruts, the Celestial Storm-gods, waited in the clouds to rescue their god-king in case of a calamity. Indra would survive even in defeat. Of that, the Bard was sure.

But Karna had no one at his back. His might and god-powers had depleted without the sun’s healing warmth and light. His divine astras, weapons, had not slowed the Stone Demon down, at all. Only the conviction that he could not fail his godsire, his sister, and the innocents under his protection drove him now. His birth family had once abandoned him to his fate, but he would not abandon them to theirs—such was the greatness of Karna.

The Bard crossed out the last observation. No questions. No judgment. No praise, either. The canons would be free of all emotion. He wasn’t here to embellish history or glorify the history-makers, as some bards were wont to do. 

It wasn’t embellishment to write that the foothills of Cedi were drenched in the Soul Warrior’s blood. Or observe the gushing wounds on his body, despite his armor, that would make the hardiest of warriors bellow in agony, but not him. It wasn’t embellishment to write that the Heavens were empty for the Celestials had come to Earth to watch the battle, firelight cupped in their palms to light the warrior’s way. 

The Naga, the Serpent People, also looked on, hissing from the mouth of the portal that led to their underground realm beneath the hills. The Serpent King will not choose a side. Vrtra and Vala were half Naga, after all. All across the Human Realm, demons roamed free, taking advantage of the darkness and preying on human flesh and human souls. It was a terrible moment in history. The asuras had the upper hand in the eponymous age of Demon Kali.

Vala did not have arms and half a leg, but still he came at Karna. He had an ace up his sleeve. There were plenty of creatures about, an entire mountain close at hand. He began to chant the spell of soul transference. It was the darkest of all magic, the possession of another’s soul. Soon, he would be whole again and stronger than before.

Battered and bleeding, the Soul Warrior veered away from the Stone Demon. He leapt over boulders and charred vegetation. The onlookers called him a coward. Had he forfeit the duel? Has he forsaken mankind? 

Karna dove for Manav-astra, the spear of mankind, he’d thrown aside yesterday after his bow, Vijaya, had shattered under repeated use. In one smooth motion, he rolled, picked up the astra, coming up in the spear-thrower’s stretch. His tattered lower garment billowed about him as a gust of wind shot through the air. His muscled torso glistened with blood and sweat, tightened as he pulled the arm holding the spear back. 

He meant to throw Manav-astra at Vala. A futile attempt, to be sure? As long as Vala was made of stone, broken or not, his body was impregnable. Karna should have waited for Vala to transfer his soul to an onlooker. Then Karna should have vanquished the possessed creature. 

Taunting laughter reverberated through the foothills of Cedi. Vala had reached the same conclusion. The Celestials looked at each other in angry silence, unable to interfere. A dwanda-yuddha duel was fought between two opponents of equal size and strength alone. The humans hadn’t stopped screaming in three days, the din simply background noise now. 

The Bard scribbled the observations onto the parchment in no particular order. He wished he was a painter, for surely this was a picture worth a thousand words.

The demon hobbled toward the warrior, who stood still as stone with his arm drawn taught behind him. Then finally, with a roaring chant the Soul Warrior shifted his weight from his back leg to his front and let fly Manav-astra at the Stone Demon with all his remaining might. 

Karna didn’t wait to see the ramifications of his action. And there were plenty to come. He ran into the mountain cave to free Vala’s hostages. Within moments the rock face rent in half, and bright streams of light speared through the terrible darkness. A new day had dawned on the Human Realm after three days of perpetual night.

The sun’s power was too bright, too full of hope. Yet, the Bard looked on pensively, wondering if the Soul Warrior knew this wasn’t a victory. It was merely a reprieve.

About the Author:

Falguni Kothari is a New York-based South Asian author and an amateur Latin and Ballroom dance silver medalist with a semi-professional background in Indian Classical dance. She’s published in India in contemporary romance with global e-book availability; Bootie and the Beast (Harlequin Mills and Boon) and It’s Your Move, Wordfreak! (Rupa & Co.), and launches a mythic fantasy series with Soul Warrior (The Age of Kali, #1)



I’m embarrassed to admit how many social media accounts I own :



Website * Blog * Twitter * Facebook * Goodreads * Pinterest

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Faith of the Nine by Sachin Dev

~ Cover Reveal ~

About the Book:

The Third Yuga is slowly drawing to a close. Nam – the greatest Empire on Janani – is going to face some fierce winds of change. Seers foresee omens of death and destruction in the return of the Banished One – A God who will claim the ashes of this world as revenge. While out in the streets, rumours abound - of older forgotten powers stirring.
Caught in this maelstrom of a power struggle between Gods are three ordinary lives: General Fateh, the most celebrated soldier in Nam who starts to question his faith, Ishan – a gifted orphan who struggles to comprehend his destiny and Abhaya – a young monk in search of truths about this world. Their choices and actions will shape the destiny of this scarred world that becomes the playground for vindictive Gods.
In a world where Rakshasas arise out of left-over traces of Maaya and twilight forms the portal to countless worlds around us for Daityas and Yakshis to dance through, a God is only as powerful as those who believe.And when Gods rise, faith of men will be tested…And broken.


About the Author:

Sachin discovered Tolkien in his teens, alternative rock as a new adult and digital marketing in pretty much his late twenties. These still form a large wedge in his circle of life. Travel, radio and theatre have also figured in that ever-expanding and diminishing circle.
On perhaps a more prosaic note, he is an engineer from BITS Pilani and holds an MBA from Indian School of Business. Attribute the love for numbers and pie-charts to this. He is currently based in Bangalore and happily married to Harini. He spends an inordinately large amount of time chasing after his two dogs (who love the free life a bit too much) when he is not busy dreaming up fantasy worlds full of monsters. And beautiful Yakshis, of course.
He can usually be found ranting on twitter under the handle @xenosach, devouring books and talking about them on his blog. You can always stalk him online at his official website

Guest Post - Music was my first love by Biddu

Music was my first love

Music was my first love….Then came girls. Okay, seriously, I got into music as a kid aged 13, when most parent wanted their children to study and become engineers, doctors, a salaried job in the government with a pension on retirement or whatever. I was lucky. My mother was cool and broadminded. I was into music professionally from the age of 15. Remember this was the 60’s. I mean 1960, when India was only known for its poverty and annual famine. Today things are a bit different. It’s now known for its poverty and corrupt politicians !!! Okay I digress a bit… So sue me!

What I’m saying is I took up music as a career when it was so left field, it was off the pitch. Nobody in their right mind would allow their son or daughter to become singers. It was considered a lowly trade. Even a funeral director received more respect. But you cannot live your life by the whims of  others or society in general. As Bob Dylan sang ‘The times they are a changin’. At that time India was a very conservative country. (In many ways it still is with its religious straight jacket, but in music and films the progress has been phenomenal.) So by taking up music as a career I was going against the norm, like a salmon I was swimming upstream. Following a dream. What good is a dream if you can’t make it come true? It’s just wishful thinking. 

But following one’s dream is fine, if you have the talent and by that I mean truck loads plus some luck to go with the talent. Now your favourite uncle or aunty saying you have a lovely voice doesn’t mean you decide to throw away the degree you’re studying and resolve hell bent it’s music or death! Also, just because you wrote a nice ‘thank you’ letter to grandma for her present and she said ‘you write so beautiful beta’, doesn’t you’re going to be the next JK Rowling. In the world of music, less than five percent make a living from it and if you want to be an author because of what granny said the chances are even less. So ask yourself truly, can you make the sacrifice? Do you have the talent? Are you going to swim in the pool of the 5percent or drown in the ocean of 95 percent?  The choice my friend… is yours.

About the Book

As a child, Biddu dreamt of going west and making it big as a composer. At the age of sixteen, he formed a band and started playing in a cafe in Bangalore, his home town, At eighteen, he was part of a popular act at Trinca's, a nightclub in Calcutta devoted to food, wine and music, At nineteen, he had college students in Bombay dancing to his music.

In his early twenties, he left the country and ended up hitchhiking across the Middle East before arriving in London with only the clothes on his back and his trusty guitar. What followed were years of hardship and struggle but also great music and gathering fame. From the nine million selling "Kung Fu Fighting" to the iconic youth anthem of "Made in India" and the numerous hits in between. Biddu's music made him a household name in India and elsewhere.
In this first public account of all that came his way: the people, the events, the music tours and companies Biddu writes with a gripping sense of humor about his remarkable journey with its fairy tale ending. Charming, witty, and entirely likable, Biddu is a man you are going to enjoy getting to know.

Book Links

Goodreads I Amazon I Flipkart

An Excerpt from Made In India

I was greeted by an army in White: almost 400 men draped in white robes and with shaven heads; some had beads in their hands, mouthing silent prayers, parading on the deck like holy warriors awaiting god or his nemesis. They were pilgrims on their way to Hajj. I looked at them, stunned into a momentary silence. The visual was dramatic and surreal, like egg-white stalagmites against an endless blue sky on a bobbing ocean. They, in return, observed me with subtle confusion. A cowboy hat, boots, a guitar and hair like a woman’s. What kind of apparition was this? The devil incarnate? I felt as welcome as swine flu.

I walked nervously through the multitude as they peacefully parted to receive this newcomer, and made my way to the sleeping quarters below deck. I thought it best to pick out my cabin and unpack my meagre belongings and set my territory; hang up my guitar and hat on a hook, close the door behind me, kick off my boots and relax. I walked down the stairs and came across a miniature stadium of row upon row of wooden slatted slabs. Most of them had bedrolls unfurled over them. I looked around. There were no cabins in sight. It dawned on me these were my sleeping quarters. It was another jaw-dropping moment.

‘Okay,’ I thought, ‘I can handle this. But first, the bathrooms.’

I must tell you I have a thing about bathrooms. Call it a fetish, but they must be pristine, clean and modern. So I strolled towards the toilet zone and peeked through the swing doors. There were six Indian-style squat-on-your-haunches-type toilets. I shuddered at the sight of these unseemly hole-in-the-ground jobs. I noticed six sinks for washing and shaving. Four hundred of us were to share these facilities. My heart sank into my ankles. I would fight them in the trenches, I would fight them on the shore, but I could not fight them in the rush to an Indian-style kazi.

I sat on a wooden slab for a while, thinking up Plan B. Suddenly I felt a jolt as the boat came to life. I could hear the drone of an engine and the ungainly movement as the vessel lurched forward clumsily and we were on our way. This I could not miss. So I scrambled back up, onto the deck and looked at the city I was leaving behind. It was nearing sunset and against a blood-red sky, the Gateway of India and the Taj Mahal Hotel steadily decreased in size as our boat cut through the frothy dark-emerald waters of the open sea. I stood there clutching my rucksack, that little suitcase full of dreams, till the shoreline disappeared.

About the Author

Biddu was born in India, where he started his career playing in a pop band whose influences lay in the classic repertoire of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. Following his early success, he decided to hear West and move into the international music arena. He struck gold, signing the unknown Carl Douglas and producing "Kung Fu Fighting?" which went on to become a hit all over the world. He also wrote and produced hits for Tina Charles and soul legend Jimmy James.

Around this time, Biddu became involved in Indian music: he composed the cult "Aap Jaise Koi" for the film Qurbani which set a new landmark for sales in India He followed this up with a pop album, Disco Deewane, with Nazia Hassan, which became the largest selling pop album in Asian history, and was the first Indian album to hit the charts in fourteen countries. In 1995, Biddu wrote and produced the three-million-selling album Made in India with the singer Alisha Chinai. To date, Biddu has sold over thirty-eight million records worldwide.

For more details on Biddu, Visit the Wikipedia Page 

Tour Stops So Far

15th September - Spotlight @ All Bookish Things
                             - Spotlight @ Crazy Bibliophile

16th September - Spotlight @ Fantastic Feathers
                             - Review @ The Tales Pensieve

17th September - Spotlight @ Butterfly on a Broomstick

18th September - Spotlight @ Love Bites & Silk

21st September - Interview @ Eclectic Moods

22nd September - Review @ I am Stri

28th September - Review @ Scattered Thoughts

29th September - Author Interview @ Metro Reader

30th September - Review @ So Many Books, So Little Time
                             - Spotlight @ My Writing Workshop

1st October - Review @ W.R. Watkins
                   - Interview @ Random Musings of a Constant Quiller

2nd October - Review @ Bibliotheque
                    - Interview @ Privy Trifles

5th October - Spotlight @ The Readdicts

7th October - Interview @ Klishmaklaver
                   - Review @ Passey.info

8th October - Review @ I Luv Fiction

9th October - Spotlight @ Reading... Dreaming...

10th October - Spotlight @ Andrea Buginsky

15th October - Review @ Words' Worth
                     - Review @ Just Another Bookaholic

17th October - Review @ Fabric of Life

18th October - Review @ Errors & Kaushal

19th October - Interview @ Rachelle's Window

Stay updated on the book tour by visiting the BOOK TOUR PAGE

Normal Days #61

All I Want

No, this isn't a wish list. This is a song title from a band Kodaline, and if you've not seen the video, pls do. Till date I've dedicated songs for all of my post, but this time this post is about the song. It made me think. It made me wish, it made me to long for you, to dream you and to wish if things were different.

If there was a way to reach out to you and to make you dream with me, trust me I would. I would come and trace you like I do when I whisper your name to universe. There are so many emotions this video brought up. It made me think do ppl actually love unconditionally? Is there in reality the kind of love which is surfaces beyond the physical aspects of a person? I know, I know, you'd say that YES! Definitely and give me examples how you loved someone who was not perfect and all that stuff. But by this point if you've seen the video you'd understand what I mean by this.

But that doesn't matter or does it? Can you be comfortable in a social event where everyone would look at you and whisper? Can you stand that? If yes, then till when? Will there be a time when you'd wish if things were different? I know this coz I've been asked this question. The answer given to me was this,

"OK, you won't show the discomfort. But when you'd see your friends and their wives, you'd feel wistful. May be you won't show resentment but you'll not be comfortable either. You'll always feel like you've done some great sacrifice and would want ppl to acknowledge that how selfless you're, how bigger of a person you're. You'd start taking advantage of that situation, emotionally too. And there will come a time when you'll start resenting your choice."

I'm not sure what I'd do. I've always said that love is love for me. The skin, the age, the face is all superficial. Till the time I'm questioned let me wear this veil of being a great person. Let the curtain not rise.

What will you do?

(To be Contd..)

Cover Reveal - Seeking Redemption by Madhu Vajpayee

Book Blurb:

Story of a girl Meera, who is unwittingly drawn into a conflict from where she finds it difficult to emerge unscathed. It's her journey from being a simple, medical graduate belonging to a middle class family to the uncharted territories of corruption and caste based politics. Her path is crossed by the two men, both compelling yet completely contrasting characters, who are forever going to change her life. If it is Aman who can challenge her ideals and defy her resolves, and makes her the person she finally becomes, it is Abhay's sublime love which enables her to go through the vicissitudes of life. It's also the story of her loss as well as triumph against her own demons to find her true self.

Pre-order from Amazon

About the Author:

Dr.Madhu Vajpayee- the writer was born somewhere in those hospital corridors where she has spent the last two decades of her life. Witnessing life at such close quarters pushed her to capture its enigma in her words and slowly it became her passion. After writing several scientific papers and chapters in books, this book is her first step in literary world.  

Having done her graduation, MBBS from King Georges Medical University (KGMU), Lucknow she went ahead to pursue her post-graduation, MD from AIIMS, New Delhi. She was a consultant at All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS), New Delhi having been associated with management of patients living with HIV/AIDS. She is now settled in Melbourne, Australia with her family, where she is devoting most of her time to writing, the passion that she couldn’t pursue earlier because of the demands of medical profession and commitment it requires.

When not creating stories, Madhu enjoys reading and travelling.

Contact the Author:

Blog * Facebook Page * Twitter * Goodreads 

Release Day Blitz - Coke by Barun Chanda

About the Book:

“Can you help me, please?”

Pradipta wheeled around.

Standing behind was an unusually attractive lady. She wore a dark blue, chiffon saree which set off her fair complexion even more. Other than a thin gold chain with a tear-drop pearl pendant on her neck, she wore no jewelery. Her lips were pale pink, with no lipstick. Only the dark make-up on her eyes made her look even more unfathomable.

 “You’re talking to me?”

Thus begins Coke, with this chance encounter at Kathmandu airport. But the plot thickens when the lady requests him to include her suitcase as part of his checked in baggage and then does a vanishing act, once the aircraft lands in Calcutta. What follows is a riveting page-turner, replete with unexpected twists as you encounter gangs warring over narcotics, policemen, functionaries, and a sinister master-mind who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. The furiously paced narrative takes you from the sleepy airport of Kathmandu to the packed streets of Calcutta, a mysterious mansion on the outskirts of town and an unforgettable chase-sequence through New Market.

From the author of the acclaimed Bengali novels ‘Kidnap’, ‘Shaaper Jhaanpi’ and ‘Robibar’ comes a high-octane thriller that’s seriously addictive and keeps you hooked till the end.

Read an Excerpt:


At the first ring, Rustam picked up his mobile. It showed Bob’s number on the screen. He put the mobile to his ear and listened.

“I’m speaking from the loo…there’s news for you.”

“Why from the toilet?”

“Because no other place in the house is safe to talk to you,” Bob whispered back.

“When can we meet, then?”

“In the evening, after my duty’s over.”

“Didn’t you say you have day-night duties from now on?”

“They are letting me go for now in the evenings. But not at your place. It’s too risky.”

“Okay. So, where and when?”

“Hello, someone seems to be knocking at the door.”

The phone call ended with the roar of the flushing toilet.


At eight-thirty sharp, Rustam met Bob at Girish Park.

“Why didn’t you get in touch with me the last three days?”

Rustam looked sharply at Bob.

“There were problems.” Bob let out a thick cloud of cigarette smoke.

“It’s getting increasingly risky to come out and meet you like this.”

Though they stood in close proximity, their faces looked away in diametrically opposite directions. Unless you looked carefully, it was difficult to make out they were actually talking to each other.

Rustam idly looked at the snarling evening traffic, his hands on the railing of the park.

“So, what’s the news?”

On a bench inside the park, a young couple took advantage of the darkness to get cozy with each other. Bob simply couldn’t take his eyes off them.

“The red suitcase…” 

Bob’s voice trailed off as his eyes were riveted on the frenetic activities of the couple on the bench, their bodies wrapped under a shawl. 

“Yes, what about the red suitcase?”

Rustam cast one sharp glance at Bob, before looking away.

“I know where it is.”

Bob’s face got hidden in a cloud of smoke.

“Good.” Rustam’s voice sounded relieved. “In which room?”

“Upstairs, in boss’s bed room.”

“What makes you so sure?” Rustam’s eyes narrowed as he watched Bob’s face intently. For some inexplicable reason, he had never been able to fully trust Bob right from the beginning.

“One of the middle rooms on the first floor…was kept under lock and key all this while.”

Bob’s eyes were still very much on the couple on the bench.

“Bob…why aren’t you saying anything?”

Rustam’s voice sounded impatient.

The couple’s bodies were locked in a tight clinch under the shawl.

“Bob?”

“I saw one of the sentries take the suitcase away from the middle room to boss’s bedroom.”

Rustam kept his eyes on the Central Avenue. A traffic jam was forming near the crossing, adjacent to the park. An eccentric man, with a wooden stick in his hand, was trying to regulate the traffic, in the process, making things much worse for everyone.

“Did you get to see where he hid it inside the bed room?”

“No.”

Bob watched fascinated what the couple was doing on the bench, underneath the shawl.

“Niyogi shut the door after entering boss’s bed room.”

For a while both stood facing away from each other, in silence.

At long last, a cop appeared on the road and was seen trying to control the traffic. Inside the park, the couple was still locked in a tight embrace. Bob puffed at his cigarette and blew another cloud of smoke from his mouth. Rustam fanned with his hand irritably, trying hard to keep the smoke away from his face.

“Anything else?”

“Yes, there is.”

Bob looked directly at Rustam for the first time in the evening.

“I think Harry is going out of town very shortly.”

“Outside Calcutta, or outside India?”

“How should I know that?” Bob answered irritably.

“Somebody came from a travel agency with a sealed envelope. I signed and received it.”

The traffic at the crossing had eased by now. The couple on the bench sat still, exhausted.

Rustam noticed Bob smiling at them. 

“What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing.”

 Bob took one last puff from the cigarette, flicked the butt end casually towards the footpath and walked away. After a while Rustam came and sat at the bench in the park.   The couple got up from the bench and walked away, each in a different direction. Rustam watched them leave, took out the mobile from his pocket and started speaking into it in a low voice.

About the Author:

In so far as the pursuit of any true vocation is a life in itself, Barun Chanda – advertising guru, actor and writer, may be said to have had three. Born in Dhaka, he did his Masters in English at Jadavpur University. Following a brief stint as a lecturer in English, he embarked upon a career in the creative department of advertising that spanned more than 30 years, won him numerous awards and culminated in his tenure as Creative Director at Clarion McCann.

Acting occupies the second of his three worlds. In 1971, he scorched the big screen as a high-flying executive, playing the protagonist in Satyajit Ray’s ‘Seemabaddha’, and winning a special President of India Award for his performance. After a hiatus that lasted over two decades, he returned to the screen during the 90’s, and has since then acted in numerous TV series and more than 35 movies. Tackling Bollywood and Tollywood roles with equal aplomb, he has distinguished himself in films such as Lootera, Roy, Chotushkone, Aborto, MIshor Rohoshyo, Nayanchampa-r Dinraatri , Bela Sheshe and Jogajog. Chorabaali, where where once again he plays the protagonist, is his latest venture.

Barun’s third passion is writing. A regular film reviewer and contributor of articles to major dailies, in the last eight years he has published four highly acclaimed and successful novels in Bengali. His work has played a major role in establishing the adult thriller genre in Bengali literature.

Coke is his first novel in English.

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Normal Days #60

A Brand New World

Did you get it?! Pls tell me you did. Pls tell me you get from the song dedicated for this post what it will be about. And yes it is for that damned person you are thinking about. Are you smiling? Are you thinking about the time we discussed about him and how you were not so enthusiastic about his discovery of "New World?"

But when I learnt y'day that today is one who will not be named day I smiled and thought of you. I thought how we talked and you laughed and how I loved the sound of your laugh. I still listen to it, you know. I mean your laugh not the songs about him by which they torture the poor kids.

I do pity 'em. Poor kids. What about the future of nation? No one cares about that the day which should be a normal day they turned it into a holiday. Damned government.

And you know we have our own brand new universe, our own galaxy, our own world, which we've to populate. So you see, we have lots and lots of work to do. Just arriving at some place stupidly and naming it on our own isn't enough. We won't make the same mistake what one who will not be named did.

Though we've already named our galaxy, like I said, there is still a lot which needs to be done. We still need to dream, we still need to believe, we still need to hope and may be one day they will come true. May be one day we will succeed in pursuit of our dreams, may be we won't but all I know is I won't give upon what we can have or what we can dream we can have. Dreams are always better than reality and when there is no fear of 'em breaking we should dream big and bigger. I hope you're dreaming now, all the smile and happiness. Coz tonight I'll dream of sailing toy our land and name you me.

Damn you the one who will not be named!

(To be Contd..)

Normal Days #59

It Must Have Been Love

For a heartbreak kid like me, this should be an anthem. I love Roxette. They have this soulful music. The other band which soothes me like they do is Radiohead.

Be warned today the self depreciating humor and self loathing is right there, where I feel this hole in my chest, letting the fear cloud my senses. The fear of beginning of an end, fear of never be able to have love. Trust me , after scrutinizing myself through the lowest of standards has made me realize that there is no one to blame but me. I'm selfish, hypocrite, self-righteous asshole who always had his head up his ass. I could've done that without profanities but then it is for me. To come back here to read the declaration of my foolishness for my older self. I had been shown mirror a plenty of times. I've been ashamed, disgusted, horrified because of all my actions. I know I do this after every 1 or 2 posts, acting like I'm the sorriest person alive on this earth and pls go ahead judge me. I want you to coz I've come to realize that I deserve that.

One of the reason I'm like this, I was just told a couple of days ago. I'm like the way I'm coz I'd no family of my own. I don't understand the value of family. I've always been alone and I'll always be alone. There will be no one with me coz I do not want reality. I want to live in the world of lies, deceits, a world where there is nothing but the mirage of love. I'm forsaking the real love for imaginary one. I want and want but I never give anything in return. I've expectations but when it is my turn I've every lame excuse in the book. Life has so much to give to me and yet there is such hollowness in me.

 I want you to consume me, devour me so that there is nothing left, no doubt, no hurt, no fear. I'm scared. I'm scared that whatever we had is just withering away, we are losing each other or may be one day we'd be strangers under the skies. Love me, no matter what. I'll be whispering your name to skies. Save me.

Love Me Like You Do

(To be Contd..)

Cover Reveal - Coke by Barun Chanda

“Can you help me, please?”

Pradipta wheeled around.

Standing behind was an unusually attractive lady. She wore a dark blue, chiffon saree which set off her fair complexion even more. Other than a thin gold chain with a tear-drop pearl pendant on her neck, she wore no jewelery. Her lips were pale pink, with no lipstick. Only the dark make-up on her eyes made her look even more unfathomable.

 “You’re talking to me?”

Thus begins Coke, with this chance encounter at Kathmandu airport. But the plot thickens when the lady requests him to include her suitcase as part of his checked in baggage and then does a vanishing act, once the aircraft lands in Calcutta. What follows is a riveting page-turner, replete with unexpected twists as you encounter gangs warring over narcotics, policemen, functionaries, and a sinister master-mind who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. The furiously paced narrative takes you from the sleepy airport of Kathmandu to the packed streets of Calcutta, a mysterious mansion on the outskirts of town and an unforgettable chase-sequence through New Market.

From the author of the acclaimed Bengali novels ‘Kidnap’, ‘Shaaper Jhaanpi’ and ‘Robibar’ comes a high-octane thriller that’s seriously addictive and keeps you hooked till the end.

About the Author:

In so far as the pursuit of any true vocation is a life in itself, Barun Chanda – advertising guru, actor and writer, may be said to have had three. Born in Dhaka, he did his Masters in English at Jadavpur University. Following a brief stint as a lecturer in English, he embarked upon a career in the creative department of advertising that spanned more than 30 years, won him numerous awards and culminated in his tenure as Creative Director at Clarion McCann.

Acting occupies the second of his three worlds. In 1971, he scorched the big screen as a high-flying executive, playing the protagonist in Satyajit Ray’s ‘Seemabaddha’, and winning a special President of India Award for his performance. After a hiatus that lasted over two decades, he returned to the screen during the 90’s, and has since then acted in numerous TV series and more than 35 movies. Tackling Bollywood and Tollywood roles with equal aplomb, he has distinguished himself in films such as Lootera, Roy, Chotushkone, Aborto, MIshor Rohoshyo, Nayanchampa-r Dinraatri , Bela Sheshe and Jogajog. Chorabaali, where where once again he plays the protagonist, is his latest venture.

Barun’s third passion is writing. A regular film reviewer and contributor of articles to major dailies, in the last eight years he has published four highly acclaimed and successful novels in Bengali. His work has played a major role in establishing the adult thriller genre in Bengali literature.

Coke is his first novel in English.

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