Gayathri Jayakumar's Blog

About The Book

Surge On Like a River is the English translation of the Tamil book titled ‘Nee Nadhi Pola Odikondiru’, originally written by Bharathy Bhaskar, a Chemical Engineer and an MBA, who is a banker by profession. She is also a popular columnist and speaker, and a household name in Tamil homes, thanks to the debates and shows she has spoken in.

The essays are written in a simple, engaging style, and filled with profound insights. These nuggets of wisdom primarily draw from the author’s life experiences and her empathetic observations of the people and situations around her.

This English translation by V. Shyamala captures the lively nature of the original, bringing it to a wider audience with the idea that the readers who do not know Tamil should not miss out on the wonderful collection.

Book Review :

Author (Tamil): Bharathy Bhaskar

Translation (English) : V. Shyamala

Publisher : Suzhi Publications (20 December 2020)

Language : English

Pages : 119 pages

Bharathy Bhaskar, noted for her thought provoking insights and observations on the world around us that is plain to see, yet often ignored, have struck another cord with this book that so efficiently deals with the every day topics that we either turn a cold shoulder against or those that are conveniently ignored. Each chapter in the book is a recollection or rumination on a particular incident or a dialogue that has enabled her to dive into the 'way of the world' and give it an unbiased third person's point of view. 

Quoting Jorge Gonzalez Moore, “The translator is the author’s accomplice.”, V Shyamala has categorically repainted the book into a paint that even the blind can see! Borrowing from Jose Saramago, "Writers make national literature, while translators make universal literature", V.Shyamala had taken upon herself the Herculean task of translating something, not just in essence, but also in meaning and character with an unfailing resolve that has evidently panned into the clarity and precision of this Translation. It retains those Tamil quips and quibbles or words that cannot translate its depth in English, which somehow finds a place in the reader's heart where it seems more authentic and the character of the author feels preserved as if the author herself is directly in discourse with the reader. 
Bharathy Bhaskar in the book says :       

Have you ever taken a pebble from the depths of a river and pressed it against your cheek with eyes closed, enjoying its cool smoothness? Wasn’t that pebble also once a sharp stone with jagged edges? It smoothened its rough, tearing edges under the torrential flow of the river. Entrusting ourselves to the great river called life, and gaining serenity and coolness alone will make our journey towards old age a pleasure, would it not?

There was so much meaning and thought in this line where we are, by all means shaped and smoothened by our life like how a river shapes a jagged, rough stone into a soft smooth pebble that everyone would want to grip in their palms. The book is resplendent with such thought-provoking epigrams and aphorisms. The line which goes "...​we have the itching compulsion to mentally touch the parts of our heart that pain, the tears that we shed years ago, the hatred we carried towards someone, rejections we faced; that we have kept safe say, ‘ssssss, that pains’, and get a jolt of heated gratification from it.", so vividly portrays a trait that is common to all mankind, with no exceptions.
 The outlook of the world and the gender bias and the unnecessary turmoil people cook up in the name of success and achievements falls under scrutiny in the book and  she rightly says , "​‘Go to work at the cracker company and fill my cup of alcohol,’ say the uneducated parents. Educated parents dictate, ‘Win in the television competitions and fill my goblet of pride’". The innocent verbose childhood that happens to be a girl, who is constantly scolded for being too talkative asks, ​“Aunty, what does ‘vayadi’ mean?” “A girl who speaks a lot.” “Then what is a boy who speaks a lot called?” I had no reply. Nor did Tamil. What could Tamil do? It is not the language that forms words. It is only humans who do that" . Such profound  is the thought that comes in reply to the little girl's words that prompts to question the very source of language and how these common phrases took shape. 
On the very hyped up issue of colour complex, Bharathy directs our attention to the more common and prominent ideologies that still percolate our concepts :        ​

When the Olympic Games were held in China, the theme song was actually sung by a young girl. But on stage, it was another ‘beautiful’ child who lip-synced to her honeyed voice. The girl who had sung it probably stayed at home, crying.

...Are we as a society so completely brainwashed to think that fair skin is the only definition of beauty? Since the beginning of human civilization, taking care of our faces, bodies, and hair, and taking efforts to reduce the faults in them has been a continuing practice. There’s nothing wrong in this. It is natural to strive for a pleasant appearance...


...We cannot underestimate the boost of self-confidence given by a presentable look. But when it crosses a particular limit, it ends up draining one’s time, money, even saps the strength of the soul; and leads to a parched dreariness without any constructive thought; and when the idea that ‘we need to look beautiful’ becomes an all-consuming desire to portray oneself as seductive, this issue changes direction.

Another cliche concept is of woman as that all bearing, ever stoical pillars of the household who should be the slave, the servant, the slut, the strength, the face and the shield of the family. If there's an argument, she should solve it, if there is a fight with the neighbour she should fight like a queen, the unending demands and expectations laid down on the one in the kitchen, the cleaner, the cook, the washer, the mediator, the massager, the tutor, the connector and the whatnot! Even the books and the films and soaps portray such stereotypes that they set out to be the touchstone for a perfect woman. And like Bharathy lays it down plain :

​“I have to do it myself. Seeing me exhaust myself, everyone around me should melt, praising me, ‘you burn yourself for others like a candle’” is a secret thirst that never leaves women. 
  

The women simply are forced into accepting this thought.
Apart from these, the book is also an insightful read into effective and successful parenting, and also helps as a boost to those self-doubting women out there who are griding under the pressure of expectations and misconceptions. We are, after all, human beings just like anyone else. 
I wouldn't strictly classify this book as a feminist propaganda or a discourse to side with a marginalised portrayal of womanhood. That would be wrong, as the author herself is an empowered figure who is both a working, thinking woman and a caring , loving family-person. The aim is to not forward an ideology or perspective but to open our eyes wide at all that we prefer to close it against and to nudge us to those observations and understandings that we are, like I stated earlier, conveniently indifferent to. 


Author : 

Bharathi Baskar is a Tamil Orator who is popular for her humorous debate talk shows called Pattimandram.com, telecasted on Sun TV. She is also an anchor for the daily talk show called Vaanga Peasalam at 7.15 a.m from Monday to Wednesday on Sun TV. Bharathi Baskar is also a Senior Vice President at Citi Bank, Chennai.

Translator :

V.Shyamala is a cost accountant, a homemaker, and a writer. She loves to weave stories and is on a continuous quest to seek new and creative ways to teach children. When not writing, reading, or thinking up stories, Shyamala mentors CIMA students, strives to workout, loves tweaking South Indian heritage recipes, and translates Tamil words to English. She is also a member of AWIC (Association of Writers and Illustrators for Children) and volunteers at a local library twice a week.

Catch with Up V. Shyamala on Social Media

 

Email | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

 

 

 

Surge On Like a River

About The Book
Surge On Like a River is the English translation of the Tamil book titled ‘Nee Nadhi Pola Odikondiru’, originally written by Bharathy Bhaskar, a Chemical Engineer and an MBA, who is a banker by profession. She is also a popular columnist and speaker, and a household name in Tamil homes, thanks to the debates and shows she has spoken in.
The essays are written in a simple, engaging style, and filled with profound insights. These nuggets of wisdom primarily draw from the author’s life experiences and her empathetic observations of the people and situations around her.
This English translation by V. Shyamala captures the lively nature of the original, bringing it to a wider audience with the idea that the readers who do not know Tamil should not miss out on the wonderful collection.
Purchase Links
Amazon India | Amazon USA

Guest Post by  V. Shyamala
When I read out aloud ‘I am Malala’ to my 8-year-old daughter
‘I Am Malala: The Girl Who Stood Up for Education and was Shot by the Taliban’ was the first full-length autobiography that I read out loud to my daughter when she was eight. Till then, I had only read out picture books and short stories to her.
Why I choose this book – you might wonder. Well, it just happened that in school, at a fancy-dress competition held for older children, a child dressed as Malala was awarded the first prize. My
daughter wanted to know about the girl who had inspired that dress. I just gave her a two-line explanation – ‘Girls were not allowed to go to school in the part of the world where she lived, but she went ahead anyway, and so was shot at for going to school. But, don’t worry, she recovered and now lives in London.’
My daughter was not satisfied.
I had the e-book (the detailed version co-authored by Christina Lamb) on my Kindle and started reading out parts of it to her. But she was not satisfied with that either and wanted me to read the whole book. Though initially, I felt this book was not appropriate for her age, when I started reading it aloud to her (I would read a chapter a day), I realized she was mature enough not only to understand it but also to ask me insightful questions. We had many conversations on religion, gender bias, the role of education, freedom… all weighty topics indeed! I tried to be as honest and balanced as I could. I too learned a lot in the process!
Malala said -“One child, one teacher, one pen and one book can change the world.”
This book changed the world for my daughter. Malala’s story made her think on a deeper level and try to understand issues from different perspectives. Though I kept myself from sermonizing, she realized how lucky she was to have been born in a part of the world where she was relatively safe and had the right to education. How lucky she was to whine about homework and projects when many children – especially girls – around the world were attacked if they so much as wanted to go to school!
After this, she started reading children’s novels. Now my daughter is 10, and she has already read the book twice by herself!
This is the power of books, the power of stories. They open up new worlds, offer new perspectives, and elicit new insights. They help us understand the ‘other’.
This incident opened my eyes to stories around me – stories told by my grandmother and mother – about Avvaiyar, Goddess Meenakshi, Dr. Muthulakshmi Reddy, Rani Velu Nachiyar, her commander-in-chief Kuyili… the list is really long. There are innumerable stories in Indian languages that are not known outside a particular geographical area or beyond a community that speaks the language. My first translation project of Smt. Bharathy Bhaskar is my first small effort to bring a good literary work in Tamil to a wider audience.
Glossary Terms:
Avvaiyar: Poetess of ancient Tamil Nadu, her name means ‘a woman of respect’. Here, the reference is the first Avvaiyar who lived during the Sangam period (c. 3rd century BCE).
Goddess Meenakshi: A Hindu Goddess whose temple dominates the city of Madurai in Tamil Nadu. A warrior queen, she is believed to have conducted a military campaign in the north till she reached Kailash, where she met and married Lord Shiva.
Padma Bhushan Dr. Muthulakshmi Reddy – one of the first women doctors in India, the first female student to be admitted into a men's college, the first woman House Surgeon in the Government Maternity and Ophthalmic Hospital, the first woman Legislator in British India.
Rani Velu Nachiyar - Known as Veeramangai (brave woman), she was the first Indian queen to fight and triumph against the (British) East India Company. She ruled Sivagangai for 10 years from C.1780 to 1790. Kuyili was her army commander-in-chief and considered to be the first suicide bomber in history who destroyed the British armory.
About the Author

Bharathi Baskar is a Tamil Orator who is popular for her humorous debate talk shows called Pattimandram.com, telecasted on Sun TV. She is also an anchor for the daily talk show called Vaanga Peasalam at 7.15 a.m from Monday to Wednesday on Sun TV. Bharathi Baskar is also a Senior Vice President at Citi Bank, Chenna




About the Translator

V.Shyamala is a cost accountant, a homemaker, and a writer. She loves to weave stories and is on a continuous quest to seek new and creative ways to teach children. When not writing, reading, or thinking up stories, Shyamala mentors CIMA students, strives to workout, loves tweaking South Indian heritage recipes, and translates Tamil words to English. She is also a member of AWIC (Association of Writers and Illustrators for Children) and volunteers at a local library twice a week.
Catch with Up V.Shyamala on Social Media
Email | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

 

About the Book:

At 17, Samira Joshi has only one dream in life.
She wants to be a spy. And why not?
Spying runs in the Joshi genes. Her great-grandmother was famous for sticking her nose in everyone’s business. Her grandmother had a flourishing side-business of tracking down errant husbands and missing servants. Her parents are elite intelligence agents for RAW. Yet, they want their only daughter to become a doctor. When she sees a college friend being trapped by a pimp, Samira does some spying of her own, and discovers the existence of a secret sisterhood of teen spies — The Spyders. And, she wants in!
The question is, do they want her?


Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon
Read an Excerpt from Along Came a Spyder
I was being followed. I just didn’t know it. You couldn’t blame me, really. I was only sixteen at the time. For the past year, my parents had rarely been in the same place at the same time, for more than a month. So, when they whisked me off to Dubai for a family holiday, I was so excited that I forgot the basic counter-surveillance measures drilled into me by said parents. Like I said, I was only sixteen.Yet, I was being followed, and I hadn’t realised it yet. Though I did realise that I needed to pee. I came out of the stall, washed my hands, and decided to fix my unruly hair. As I was pulling all of it up into a high ponytail, a woman came and stood next to me.“I have something important to tell your parents.”At first, I thought she was talking on the phone because she was speaking in Arabic, so, I didn’t respond.“Samira Joshi, I have to talk to your parents, now.”I turned to the woman, shocked.“How do you know my name?” I mindlessly responded in Arabic.“Shh! Keep your voice down, and turn back to the mirror.”“Who are you and how do you know my name?” I asked softly, facing the mirror.“That’s not the point. Will you do as I asked?” “I won’t do a thing until you tell me your name!” I said, belligerently.“My name doesn’t mean anything to you. Just do as I ask,” she insisted.“Take off your veil, then. I want to see your face.”The woman was heavily veiled, in a niqab that concealed her face.“No! Just tell your parents that I want to speak to them,” snapped the woman.“Why should I do that? My parents are not fools, to meet a total stranger. You could be leading them into some sort of trap,” I argued.The woman leaned towards me, and hissed, “You will do as I say, otherwise your country will be reduced to a pile of rubble! Is that what you want?”I slowly backed away from her and rushed out of the loo. As I walked to the cafe where I was supposed to meet my parents, I kept looking back, half expecting that woman to follow. I spotted them waiting at a table. Ma was reading a book or pretending to. You could never tell with her.Baba was people-watching, his watchful eyes taking everything in, down to the last detail. This was his favourite hobby. When I was a kid, dining out was just another lesson in spycraft. I had to observe and memorise everything about the room, from the number of waitstaff to the exits and cameras, as well as the details of all the other diners — how many people at each table, what they were wearing, and their expressions. When I got older, Baba would pick a table and I had to place a listening device at that table without being caught. That’s not as difficult as it sounds. You’d be surprised at what all you can do with a timely twist of the ankle.I knew that the moment I opened my mouth, that blank, expectant expression would turn into disapproval and disappointment, and my holiday would be ruined. I was not wrong.“Ma.”That’s all I needed to say. Ma’s eyes narrowed.“Samira, you’re breathing hard and your pupils are dilated,” she announced, leaning forward to peer into my eyes, in full spy radar mode.“What have you been up to?”There it was, the implication that I was responsible for whatever had happened, like they were used to me messing up all the time. Normally, this was where I would get defensive and I’d lose the argument even before I spoke. Not this time. I took a deep breath and spoke as dispassionately as I could.

About the Author: Apeksha Rao is a multi genre author from Bangalore.
She is the author of Along Came A Spyder, which is the story of a seventeen year old girl who wants to be spy.
Apeksha has written many short stories based on the same series, The Spyders, which are available on this blog.She is a voracious reader, and a foodie.
Apeksha's current works in progress: A middle grade book, a chick lit featuring a detective, and a horror novel (the writing of which is giving her sleepless nights).
Apeksha on the Web: Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram

 

About the Book:

At 17, Samira Joshi has only one dream in life.
She wants to be a spy. And why not?
Spying runs in the Joshi genes. Her great-grandmother was famous for sticking her nose in everyone’s business. Her grandmother had a flourishing side-business of tracking down errant husbands and missing servants. Her parents are elite intelligence agents for RAW. Yet, they want their only daughter to become a doctor. When she sees a college friend being trapped by a pimp, Samira does some spying of her own, and discovers the existence of a secret sisterhood of teen spies — The Spyders. And, she wants in!
The question is, do they want her?


Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon
Read an Excerpt from Along Came a Spyder
I was being followed. I just didn’t know it. You couldn’t blame me, really. I was only sixteen at the time. For the past year, my parents had rarely been in the same place at the same time, for more than a month. So, when they whisked me off to Dubai for a family holiday, I was so excited that I forgot the basic counter-surveillance measures drilled into me by said parents. Like I said, I was only sixteen.Yet, I was being followed, and I hadn’t realised it yet. Though I did realise that I needed to pee. I came out of the stall, washed my hands, and decided to fix my unruly hair. As I was pulling all of it up into a high ponytail, a woman came and stood next to me.“I have something important to tell your parents.”At first, I thought she was talking on the phone because she was speaking in Arabic, so, I didn’t respond.“Samira Joshi, I have to talk to your parents, now.”I turned to the woman, shocked.“How do you know my name?” I mindlessly responded in Arabic.“Shh! Keep your voice down, and turn back to the mirror.”“Who are you and how do you know my name?” I asked softly, facing the mirror.“That’s not the point. Will you do as I asked?” “I won’t do a thing until you tell me your name!” I said, belligerently.“My name doesn’t mean anything to you. Just do as I ask,” she insisted.“Take off your veil, then. I want to see your face.”The woman was heavily veiled, in a niqab that concealed her face.“No! Just tell your parents that I want to speak to them,” snapped the woman.“Why should I do that? My parents are not fools, to meet a total stranger. You could be leading them into some sort of trap,” I argued.The woman leaned towards me, and hissed, “You will do as I say, otherwise your country will be reduced to a pile of rubble! Is that what you want?”I slowly backed away from her and rushed out of the loo. As I walked to the cafe where I was supposed to meet my parents, I kept looking back, half expecting that woman to follow. I spotted them waiting at a table. Ma was reading a book or pretending to. You could never tell with her.Baba was people-watching, his watchful eyes taking everything in, down to the last detail. This was his favourite hobby. When I was a kid, dining out was just another lesson in spycraft. I had to observe and memorise everything about the room, from the number of waitstaff to the exits and cameras, as well as the details of all the other diners — how many people at each table, what they were wearing, and their expressions. When I got older, Baba would pick a table and I had to place a listening device at that table without being caught. That’s not as difficult as it sounds. You’d be surprised at what all you can do with a timely twist of the ankle.I knew that the moment I opened my mouth, that blank, expectant expression would turn into disapproval and disappointment, and my holiday would be ruined. I was not wrong.“Ma.”That’s all I needed to say. Ma’s eyes narrowed.“Samira, you’re breathing hard and your pupils are dilated,” she announced, leaning forward to peer into my eyes, in full spy radar mode.“What have you been up to?”There it was, the implication that I was responsible for whatever had happened, like they were used to me messing up all the time. Normally, this was where I would get defensive and I’d lose the argument even before I spoke. Not this time. I took a deep breath and spoke as dispassionately as I could.

About the Author: Apeksha Rao is a multi genre author from Bangalore.
She is the author of Along Came A Spyder, which is the story of a seventeen year old girl who wants to be spy.
Apeksha has written many short stories based on the same series, The Spyders, which are available on this blog.She is a voracious reader, and a foodie.
Apeksha's current works in progress: A middle grade book, a chick lit featuring a detective, and a horror novel (the writing of which is giving her sleepless nights).
Apeksha on the Web: Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram

 

About the Book:
Samaira Reddy, the girl in the big house, the Bade Sahib's daughter, only wants one thing and one person...a life with her childhood sweetheart, her Rags.
Raghav Cherukuri has always been known as the driver's son. And has also always loved his Sam, the girl he can never have and never forget. And so, he leaves her and his life in Hyderabad behind.But now, Raghav is back. A Chief Officer in the Merchant Navy, he is the success he’s always wanted to be. And yet, he has failed.Samaira is meeting the ‘perfect groom’ her family approves of…A man whom Raghav can never be.
Can it finally be their time to be together? Or has their happy-ever-after passed them by?
This novella was previously part of the anthology Something Old Something New.

Book Links: Goodreads * Amazon


Read an Excerpt from My Heart's Regret:

“Why did you leave?” The question shot out of her taking them both by surprise. They stared at each other, a wealth of memories flooding the space between them. Years of hurt, months of pain and a million unspoken words crowded around them.“Don’t.” He turned away from her, shaking his head. “Don’t do this.”“Why not? You don’t think I deserve any kind of explanation?” He opened the rear door of the car in response. “Are you ready to go home?” “Home?” She laughed, a bitter sound that floated in the air. “Is that still home to you?”“Are you ready to go back to your home?” The slight emphasis felt like a slap across her face.“And that’s the truth of it, isn’t it?” She watched his face for a clue to his feelings. She found none. He was as stone-faced as ever.“You don’t think of it as home anymore. When you left, you didn’t just leave to study and start your career. You left everything behind. Your home. Your past. Your…”“Yes.” His acceptance cut her off mid-rant. “I left it all behind. The poverty. The insults. The humiliation. I left my life here behind.”“Is that all you left behind?” The words sliced through the night like a knife.Raghav just stared at her, his eyes a cauldron of bottomless emotion. On a growl of frustration, she slid down from the car and stomped towards the door he still held open. Yanking it from his hand, she slammed it shut. Then she walked around the front of the car to the passenger door and got in.A storm was coming. A loud rumble of thunder could be heard and the wind was picking up outside the car. It blew a lock of his unruly hair into his eyes. He didn’t notice but she did. Even through the tears stinging her eyes, she noticed everything about him. Raghav continued to stand, motionless by the rear door, his tightly clenched fists the only evidence of the emotion raging inside him. The first drops of rain started to pelt down drenching him in seconds.Finally, he moved towards where she was sitting. Leaning down, he rapped on the window to get her to put it down.Samaira obliged, arching an eyebrow in challenge. “Get out.” The words were gritted out through clenched teeth.“No,” she snapped the word out.“Go sit in the back seat.”“No,” she said again as she settled more comfortably into the seat. “Sam, if someone sees…”“Let them.” She couldn’t care less.“Sam, please.” The plea was quiet, but it sliced through. “For my father’s sake.”Her heart broke at the words. She swiped at the tear that escaped and rolled down her cheek. Without looking at him, she stepped out of the car and got into the rear seat. Raghav slid into the driver’s seat and put the car in gear.They drove home in silence, each lost in their own tortured thoughts. It wasn’t long before her house loomed in front of them. They were almost at the gate when she spoke, “Are you happy?”His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Are you?”She laughed. The mirthless sound echoed between them as Ahmed Chacha waved them through the gates. “You’re not going to answer any of my questions, are you?”Raghav sighed. “What’s the point of this conversation? Discussing the past is going to bring us nothing but more pain.”“Alright. Let’s talk about the present. Why did you come back?”Raghav brought the car to a halt outside her front door. “I came back for my parents.”“Never for me,” she murmured. “You left me without a second thought.”Raghav, who was holding her door open, froze at the soft words. She stepped out of the car and around his still form. She wasn’t going to beg him for answers anymore.“The thing is, Sam,” the whisper reached her through the violent noises of the stormy night, “You left me first.”
About the Author:


Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.

An avid reader with an overactive imagination, Shilpa has weaved stories in her head since she was a child. Her previous stints at Google, in an ad agency and as an entrepreneur provide colour to her present day stories, both fiction and non-fiction. Contact the Author:
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Newsletter

 

About the Book:
Samaira Reddy, the girl in the big house, the Bade Sahib's daughter, only wants one thing and one person...a life with her childhood sweetheart, her Rags.
Raghav Cherukuri has always been known as the driver's son. And has also always loved his Sam, the girl he can never have and never forget. And so, he leaves her and his life in Hyderabad behind.But now, Raghav is back. A Chief Officer in the Merchant Navy, he is the success he’s always wanted to be. And yet, he has failed.Samaira is meeting the ‘perfect groom’ her family approves of…A man whom Raghav can never be.
Can it finally be their time to be together? Or has their happy-ever-after passed them by?
This novella was previously part of the anthology Something Old Something New.

Book Links: Goodreads * Amazon


Read an Excerpt from My Heart's Regret:

“Why did you leave?” The question shot out of her taking them both by surprise. They stared at each other, a wealth of memories flooding the space between them. Years of hurt, months of pain and a million unspoken words crowded around them.“Don’t.” He turned away from her, shaking his head. “Don’t do this.”“Why not? You don’t think I deserve any kind of explanation?” He opened the rear door of the car in response. “Are you ready to go home?” “Home?” She laughed, a bitter sound that floated in the air. “Is that still home to you?”“Are you ready to go back to your home?” The slight emphasis felt like a slap across her face.“And that’s the truth of it, isn’t it?” She watched his face for a clue to his feelings. She found none. He was as stone-faced as ever.“You don’t think of it as home anymore. When you left, you didn’t just leave to study and start your career. You left everything behind. Your home. Your past. Your…”“Yes.” His acceptance cut her off mid-rant. “I left it all behind. The poverty. The insults. The humiliation. I left my life here behind.”“Is that all you left behind?” The words sliced through the night like a knife.Raghav just stared at her, his eyes a cauldron of bottomless emotion. On a growl of frustration, she slid down from the car and stomped towards the door he still held open. Yanking it from his hand, she slammed it shut. Then she walked around the front of the car to the passenger door and got in.A storm was coming. A loud rumble of thunder could be heard and the wind was picking up outside the car. It blew a lock of his unruly hair into his eyes. He didn’t notice but she did. Even through the tears stinging her eyes, she noticed everything about him. Raghav continued to stand, motionless by the rear door, his tightly clenched fists the only evidence of the emotion raging inside him. The first drops of rain started to pelt down drenching him in seconds.Finally, he moved towards where she was sitting. Leaning down, he rapped on the window to get her to put it down.Samaira obliged, arching an eyebrow in challenge. “Get out.” The words were gritted out through clenched teeth.“No,” she snapped the word out.“Go sit in the back seat.”“No,” she said again as she settled more comfortably into the seat. “Sam, if someone sees…”“Let them.” She couldn’t care less.“Sam, please.” The plea was quiet, but it sliced through. “For my father’s sake.”Her heart broke at the words. She swiped at the tear that escaped and rolled down her cheek. Without looking at him, she stepped out of the car and got into the rear seat. Raghav slid into the driver’s seat and put the car in gear.They drove home in silence, each lost in their own tortured thoughts. It wasn’t long before her house loomed in front of them. They were almost at the gate when she spoke, “Are you happy?”His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Are you?”She laughed. The mirthless sound echoed between them as Ahmed Chacha waved them through the gates. “You’re not going to answer any of my questions, are you?”Raghav sighed. “What’s the point of this conversation? Discussing the past is going to bring us nothing but more pain.”“Alright. Let’s talk about the present. Why did you come back?”Raghav brought the car to a halt outside her front door. “I came back for my parents.”“Never for me,” she murmured. “You left me without a second thought.”Raghav, who was holding her door open, froze at the soft words. She stepped out of the car and around his still form. She wasn’t going to beg him for answers anymore.“The thing is, Sam,” the whisper reached her through the violent noises of the stormy night, “You left me first.”
About the Author:


Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.

An avid reader with an overactive imagination, Shilpa has weaved stories in her head since she was a child. Her previous stints at Google, in an ad agency and as an entrepreneur provide colour to her present day stories, both fiction and non-fiction. Contact the Author:
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Newsletter

 

Book: The Backyard Tales                                                                                               Publisher: Buzz ePub; 1st Edition (August 6, 2020)Publication Date:  August 6, 2020Language: EnglishPages : 162 pages


Aniesha Brahma

 

Young Adult and Children’s novelist, Aniesha Brahma, studied Comparative Literature. She started her career has as a social media manager in a publishing house. Currently works as a senior content writer in a digital media agency. When she is not working, she is dreaming up stories, conducting sessions for her popular YouTube Series, Chai & Chill, or planning how to get even more books and bookish content to readers via BUZZ Magazine. You can read more of her work at Aniesha’s Musings and drop a line at: aniesha.brahma@gmail.com

The Backyard Tales is the story of the bond shared between 17-year-old Mia Basu Roy and her beloved cat, Pippo. She seems to understand him far too well for a human. And he seems have another life that Mia begins to suspect. She follows her cat to their backyard and down a very dangerous road which leads her to witches, talking animals, and a story that’s much bigger than what she initially suspected. 

  Cats don't ask for the moon; they're already stars. - Odin Wilde

My entire childhood was spent reading all the Enid Blyton and Harry Books I could get my hands on, watching all the Barbie movie series, and always wondering why such mystical lands and stories did not exist in India. If at all there existed any stories of magic, they were strongly based on occult superstitions and horrifying black magic related stuff, and that too only in movies, not in books that were in English. All these long years of waiting, and finally this book delivers me from that plaguing thought that no Indian has tried to place those mesmerizing magical elements on Indian soil to spin a yarn that is at the same time mystical and intriguing. As Mia Basu finds her connection with her cat strengthening day by day, the connection between the natural world and human innocence itself seems to find an unfathomable interlinking through their ever blossoming kinship. Most of us might have pets who are closer to us, whom we consider our little siblings and those little creatures who always seem to find that sweet spot with our mothers who initially objected from bringing them home at all and finally end up having our furry friends tailing them like a shadow wherever she goes! Pippo is no different and as intelligent and cunning as cats can get, he also takes up the mantle of a fierce warrior, first fighting to win his freedom from the tight confines of home,  fighting to prove that he is not a spoiled house cat, fighting to save his fellow friends and even putting his life on the line to save his "mini owner", the cat never fails to prove his mettle! The meticulous details in the musings and exchanges of the animals and the well-structured plot seamlessly weaves together mystery enshrouds the incidents that unfold within the story.  The characters themselves are familiar, yet unfamiliar in a way that it is easy to picturize them, but impossible to predict their actions or feelings. The sudden courage that Shekhar finds when facing his father, the odd way in which Ricky deals with his perpetually quarreling parents and the instinctively unpredictable actions Mia adopts to come to the aid of her furry friends are all relatable but unassuming. Something alluring is to me the realization on the predictive nature of humans to readily revamp any unused, abandoned building or plot to replace it with something profitable without much thought on what would it do to the stray animals who seek shelter in such places. An old big tree when facing the threat of being chopped down swiftly attracts the attention of nature lovers who categorically argue left and right on the importance of the tree sustaining a healthy ecosystem within and around it. But an old building facing the threat of demolition is never thought of as anything other than an eyesore to anyone without considering how even a building of such could be a shelter for the stray. Security reasons apart, we have been forcefully claiming land and shelter of the living creatures in vast areas and are reluctant to maintain any sort of wild patches in our vicinity, afraid of the wild dogs or cats or even snakes it could possibly shelter. The Backyard Tales emphatically gives voice and purpose to those stray animals who are threatened by the imminent loss of their shelter and refuge. We are immediately threatened by the sight of a stray dog around our place and like Mia are afraid of the safety of our own pets and lock up all possible entrances and clear up all overgrowth or abandoned buildings or sheds without to thought to the animals around who might need a shelter somewhere from the cold of the nights, the heat of the sun and the wet rains.  Delving into this exchange between Pippo and Brown we see how they don't even know if and where they could find a place to even sleep:""Well", the street cat said, slowly, "you have a home to go to at 2am. Do you know where I am going to sleep at 2 am?"     Pippo shrugged his furry shoulders. Brown let out a sigh and said, "Even I don't know. Which is sad Pippo. Those who live on the streets have to find a different home every single day".

 The book is more than a fantasy novel that traces the relationship between a girl and her cat or the adventures they share or narrating how two worlds (animal and human, mortals and magicians, the domesticated and the stray) collide on many different planes, but also tentatively makes us think of the insecurity and vagueness of the next moment the animals in the wild face.    

Read this story to discover all of Mia and Pippo’s secrets, be enchanted by magic, and get the answer to a question that has haunted us for ages: does a cat truly love their owner? 

Book Purchase Links

Amazon India | Amazon.com

Catch Up with Aniesha Brahma on Social Media

Instagram | Twitter | Facebook | Website| Email

 

The Backyard Tales relates the story of 17-year-old Mia Basu Roy and her beloved cat, Pippo. She seems to understand him far too well for a human. And he seems to have another life that Mia begins to suspect. She follows her cat to their backyard and down a very dangerous road which leads her to witches, talking animals, and a story that’s much bigger than what she initially suspected. 

 

Read this story to discover all of Mia and Pippo’s secrets, be enchanted by magic, and get the answer to a question that has haunted us for ages: does a cat truly love their owner? 

Book Purchase Link

Amazon India | Amazon.com

Author Guest Post

How Does One Find the Inspiration to Write Stories? 

" I sincerely believe that inspiration can be found anywhere, if you are brave enough for it. As writers we are constantly writing stories in our head. Whether the other person realizes it or not. To me personally, sometimes inspiration walks on four paws, has a tail and says ‘meow’.

Jack London once said, “You cannot wait for inspiration to strike. Sometimes you need to go after it with a club.”

In this article today, I thought I would about how I was inspired by the most unlikely of things to write either a full-fledged novel or a short story. 

Let’s start at the very beginning. The novel that has proved to have a life its own. And despite being published back in 2012 is one of the most beloved of my stories till date – my debut novel, The Secret Proposal. 

I remember talking to one of my best friends from college about crazy, childhood crushes and the effect it had on us. While hers was intense mine was seasonal. I got over it with time…but a part of me couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if things had been different. It would have been fun, right? Maybe the person would help me dodge idiotic parties too. I remember being at a party bored out of my mind when the story of Jasmine and Veer took root in my brain. I wrote it like an episodic novel, sharing it little by little, with my readership on FictionPress. It was fun. When I tried to publish the next year – it found a home with General Press. 

A lot of the short stories I wrote on my blog in the subsequent years were also born for this little whispers of ‘what if’ and what follows has been me telling the story to myself first. My short story, Written in the Stars, was inspired by the thought of people being friends in the virtual world and having no idea who they were in the real world. But the story, The Walk, was inspired by an actual walk I had taken, via the actual routes mentioned in the story, with a friend of mine. 

Sometimes, inspiration comes from dark places. And that’s why my story, Something Wicked This Way Comes is a shade darker than my usual purple-pink skies, roses and sunshine, stories. I was annoyed. I wanted to kill someone. So I did. In a story, of course.

It was in a similar vein, that I wrote The Strangest Thing as well. I had a few emotions I needed to process and writing through them is how I know how to work through things. 

Earlier this year, I wrote the short story, How to Say I Love You Out Loud. A short story set in the When Our Worlds Collide/Meet Again universe. That was inspired from my desire to revisit where my characters could be right now, and the subtle desire to write something cutesy and romantic. 

Finally, it was the love for my cat, Pippo, that made me dream up the world of The Backyard Tales. I fictionalized a lot of what happened during the initial years of adopting him and our journey forwards in this novel. It honestly is a piece of my heart. My last gift in memory of a cat snatched from this world too soon. If you read it, I hope you are transported into the world that Mia and Pippo have inhabited in and made their own. "
Author Bio

Young Adult and Chidren’s novelist, Aniesha Brahma, studied Comparative Literature. She started her career has as a social media manager in a publishing house. Currently works as a senior content writer in a digital media agency. When she is not working, she is dreaming up stories, conducting sessions for her popular YouTube Series, Chai & Chill, or planning how to get even more books and bookish content to readers via BUZZ Magazine. You can read more of her work at Aniesha’s Musings and drop a line at: aniesha.brahma@gmail.com

Catch Up with Aniesha Brahma on Social Media

 

Instagram | Twitter | Facebook | Website| Email

 

The Backyard Tales relates the story of 17-year-old Mia Basu Roy and her beloved cat, Pippo. She seems to understand him far too well for a human. And he seems to have another life that Mia begins to suspect. She follows her cat to their backyard and down a very dangerous road which leads her to witches, talking animals, and a story that’s much bigger than what she initially suspected. 

 

Read this story to discover all of Mia and Pippo’s secrets, be enchanted by magic, and get the answer to a question that has haunted us for ages: does a cat truly love their owner? 

Book Purchase Link

Amazon India | Amazon.com

Author Guest Post

How Does One Find the Inspiration to Write Stories? 

" I sincerely believe that inspiration can be found anywhere, if you are brave enough for it. As writers we are constantly writing stories in our head. Whether the other person realizes it or not. To me personally, sometimes inspiration walks on four paws, has a tail and says ‘meow’.

Jack London once said, “You cannot wait for inspiration to strike. Sometimes you need to go after it with a club.”

In this article today, I thought I would about how I was inspired by the most unlikely of things to write either a full-fledged novel or a short story. 

Let’s start at the very beginning. The novel that has proved to have a life its own. And despite being published back in 2012 is one of the most beloved of my stories till date – my debut novel, The Secret Proposal. 

I remember talking to one of my best friends from college about crazy, childhood crushes and the effect it had on us. While hers was intense mine was seasonal. I got over it with time…but a part of me couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if things had been different. It would have been fun, right? Maybe the person would help me dodge idiotic parties too. I remember being at a party bored out of my mind when the story of Jasmine and Veer took root in my brain. I wrote it like an episodic novel, sharing it little by little, with my readership on FictionPress. It was fun. When I tried to publish the next year – it found a home with General Press. 

A lot of the short stories I wrote on my blog in the subsequent years were also born for this little whispers of ‘what if’ and what follows has been me telling the story to myself first. My short story, Written in the Stars, was inspired by the thought of people being friends in the virtual world and having no idea who they were in the real world. But the story, The Walk, was inspired by an actual walk I had taken, via the actual routes mentioned in the story, with a friend of mine. 

Sometimes, inspiration comes from dark places. And that’s why my story, Something Wicked This Way Comes is a shade darker than my usual purple-pink skies, roses and sunshine, stories. I was annoyed. I wanted to kill someone. So I did. In a story, of course.

It was in a similar vein, that I wrote The Strangest Thing as well. I had a few emotions I needed to process and writing through them is how I know how to work through things. 

Earlier this year, I wrote the short story, How to Say I Love You Out Loud. A short story set in the When Our Worlds Collide/Meet Again universe. That was inspired from my desire to revisit where my characters could be right now, and the subtle desire to write something cutesy and romantic. 

Finally, it was the love for my cat, Pippo, that made me dream up the world of The Backyard Tales. I fictionalized a lot of what happened during the initial years of adopting him and our journey forwards in this novel. It honestly is a piece of my heart. My last gift in memory of a cat snatched from this world too soon. If you read it, I hope you are transported into the world that Mia and Pippo have inhabited in and made their own. "
Author Bio

Young Adult and Chidren’s novelist, Aniesha Brahma, studied Comparative Literature. She started her career has as a social media manager in a publishing house. Currently works as a senior content writer in a digital media agency. When she is not working, she is dreaming up stories, conducting sessions for her popular YouTube Series, Chai & Chill, or planning how to get even more books and bookish content to readers via BUZZ Magazine. You can read more of her work at Aniesha’s Musings and drop a line at: aniesha.brahma@gmail.com

Catch Up with Aniesha Brahma on Social Media

 

Instagram | Twitter | Facebook | Website| Email

The Backyard Tales speaks of the bond between 17-year-old Mia Basu Roy and her beloved cat, Pippo. She seems to understand him far too well for a human. And he seems to have another life that Mia begins to suspect. She follows her cat to their backyard and down a very dangerous road that sweeps her away to the realm of witches, talking animals, and something that’s much bigger than what she initially suspected. 

 

Read the story to discover all of Mia and Pippo’s secrets, be enchanted by magic, and get the answer to a question that has haunted us for ages: does a cat truly love their owner?                  

Book Purchase Link

Amazon India | Amazon USA

Book Excerpt

 

Cats are inquisitive, but hate to admit it. - Mason Cooley

Chapter Five: The Witch

Pippo had often heard his mini owner recall old times when she and her friend, Shekhar, had dared each other to go to their house’s backyard. She had laughed about the idea that it was probably haunted, because she knew for a fact it couldn’t be. He knew otherwise now. Only, it wasn’t haunted by spooky spirits. It was haunted instead by a witch. The Witch all the animals seemed to be scared of.

“So the backyard, is haunted?” Pippo said in a breath, “Only by…her?”

“Has Brown and White finally answered my summons?” asked the Witch, now coming into focus.

She looked exactly like Pippo had seen in the television shows Mia would watch. She was clad from head to foot in black. Even her nails had been painted in black. Only, she was exceptionally pretty, almost as though her beauty was bewitching. And on her shoulder was perched, Mr.Crow.

“She means you, fluffy head,” said Brown, swatting Pippo lightly on the head.

“My name is PippoBasu Roy,” growled Pippo, angrily at Brown. He licked his left paw, and rubbed the same against his ears.

“Oh, he’s a keeper,” hooted Brown, “Since when do cats have surnames?” “Enough!” thundered the Witch, “I will not have any of that in my courtroom.”

“Courtroom,” whispered Pippo in shock. Recovering a little he spat, “Who are you kidding, lady? This is my mini owner’s backyard.”

“Mini owner!” thundered the Witch, narrowing her eyes at the new member of her little animal kingdom, “Do you not know you belong to me now?”

“I belong to no one,” Pippo snarled at her, “If anything – mini owner belongs to me!”

“Indeed she does,” laughed the Witch, “Tell me, if I were to kill you now in cold blood, would she come and stop me?”

She inched nearer to Pippo, who stood his ground. He growled, baring his teeth, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

“Do you really think biting me is going to get you anywhere, you obnoxious ball of fur?” asked the Witch, “I am a witch, damn it.”

“Now,” said Pippo, not taking his eyes off her for a second, “Do you have a name, Miss Witch? Or should I just keep calling you Witch?”

“Oh, now he’s done it,” said Brown, hooting with laughter.

He got smacked on the head by White Little almost immediately, “Don’t laugh. Don’t you see how serious this could get?”

Author Bio

Young Adult and Children’s novelist, Aniesha Brahma, studied Comparative Literature. She started her career has as a social media manager in a publishing house. Currently works as a senior content writer in a digital media agency. When she is not working, she is dreaming up stories, conducting sessions for her popular YouTube Series, Chai & Chill, or planning how to get even more books and bookish content to readers via BUZZ Magazine. You can read more of her work at Aniesha’s Musings and drop a line at: aniesha.brahma@gmail.com

Catch Up with Aniesha Brahma on Social Media

 

Instagram | Twitter | Facebook | Website| Email