Preethi Venugopala's Blog

 

 

 

July 23, Wayanad, 2019

 

One month. One month to relive old memories and make new ones.

When Ammamma, our dear grandmother had asked if we could plan for a month-long get-together for the Sreepuram family, it hadn’t seemed like something we could pull off.

Our gang of cousins shared a strong bond right from childhood thanks to the many summer holidays we had spent together at Sreepuram. Time, however, had put a dampener on the fun times we desperately craved. We met when someone among us got married or if there was some other important family function. But the time we spent together hardly felt enough. So, after months of planning, we finally succeeded in carving out a month for ourselves. A month to be with the ones we loved the most.

What worked in our favour was that, of late, the majority of our Sreepuram gang had become entrepreneurs. We were our own bosses now. Even Kishore, who preferred working for reputed companies, had started a construction management company in the UAE and was raking in millions.

For me, it had taken a lot of effort to plan this month as my app development company, Quarks Info Solutions was a hugely successful multinational corporation. I couldn’t take a month off but planned to work remotely. My business partner Rohit Varma, who was also my classmate and a close friend, helped me plan my monthly schedule to carve out enough family time each day.

Once we arrived at Sree Nilayam, Ammamma’s home in Sreepuram, she had been the happiest. She played along with all our requests and promised to accompany us on the small trips we planned around the countryside. She spent time pampering us the way she always did. After all, we were her favourite humans on earth, though the new generation, the kids of her grandchildren, were slowly climbing the ranks.

Ammamma was to turn 75 in September but her enthusiasm outranked ours at any moment.

A blissful week passed in a jiffy. During the first week, we spent the days at Sreepuram, recreating carefree times and soaking in Ammamma’s love. In the second week, we moved to a picturesque resort nestled amidst the green, misty mountains of Wayanad.

 The decision to move to the resort was taken unanimously because we wanted to give a break to all the ladies in the family who insisted on taking over the burden of feeding and clothing us. Even with extra hired help, it had become exhausting for them at Sreepuram. Here at the resort, they weren’t in charge of food, laundry or any of the other mundane stuff. The glow on their faces was proof enough that the decision had been a wise one.  

We planned to stay there for a week before returning to Sreepuram and then proceed to Bangalore from where we would say our goodbyes.

If this reunion was proving one thing to me, it was that nothing could beat family love.

 Over the years, the Sreepuram family had grown. Except for me, all my cousins were now married. Kishore, Ananya and Vishal were already parents. Kishore was the father of sixteen-year-old Aditya. Ananya had two very active primary schoolers Aryan and Ankit. Vishal had become a father recently to a cute, chubby little girl called Varada.

Compared to the others, I didn’t even have a social life. Becoming the newest tech billionaire in India had come with its set of responsibilities. I didn’t even have the energy to date anyone these days. I envied the kind of love my cousins shared with their spouses. Their love was endearing and hence watching them reminded me at times that something valuable was missing from my life.

“Do you think they found their soul-mates?” I asked Ammamma, gesturing at the happy faces of my cousins as we sat watching an impromptu hip-hop dance performance by Aditya in the common meeting area of the resort.

“Yes, of course,” said Ammamma, as she massaged my hair with warm, herb-scented coconut oil.

I sighed with pleasure, as my scalp relaxed under the ministrations of her gentle fingers. Sitting in front of her like this brought back so many memories. Getting a head massage from Ammamma used to be one of the highlights of every summer vacation in my childhood. There was something inexplicably sweet about the experience. Our conversations during the activity would always be filled with bulb-on moments as my grandmother was a very wise woman. She always had answers to our many questions. Even now, in this age of technology, her words made total sense.

  “Do you think I will find mine too?” I asked, just to keep the conversation going.

“Of course. I have a feeling that you will find your special someone soon,” she said, continuing to massage my scalp in circles.

“How will I know if that someone is my soulmate?”

“You will just know. Trust me, the moment you realize that the person in front of you is your soulmate, the emotions you feel will be inexplicable, incomparable and even overwhelming. No one will be able to erase or replicate the feelings your soulmate will evoke in you. You will find solace only in her,” said Ammamma.

Intrigued enough to read the rest?

Buy the book from Amazon:

Link: The Girl from the Hills

 

 

ARYA

 

May 10, 2007

 

“Go.” The word echoed repeatedly in my ears as I dashed through the darkness. I swiped at the tears that were tumbling out one after the other.

 How could a mere two-letter word pierce my heart and make it bleed? It hadn’t been the word. The person who had uttered it had infused it with that much power. And I had allowed it to impale right through.

 His words used to colour my universe. Today, a single word from him had rendered my world irredeemable.

“Enough,” I chided myself even as my naïve heart urged me to look back.

This couldn’t be real. He wouldn’t leave me. Not today. Not like this.

The visual of Naveen banging the car door with a cold look on his face and uttering that final stinging word played in my mind again.

“Go.”

I hadn’t waited for him to say anything more. I’d heard enough.

As the envelope of sadness choked me, I paused and hunkered down on the ground. I struggled to breathe.

I’d loved him with all the purity of first love. He had been my first dose of addiction. My soul had surrendered to him on the day we met.

Had it all been a game for him? My heart shot down that train of thought instantly. He had loved me. No one could convince me otherwise.

The person who had walked away from me minutes earlier hadn’t been the one I had fallen in love with.

It made little sense. What we had shared over the past year had been pure love. At least in my case. I couldn’t believe those loving whispers, the tender caresses and stolen moments of passion were all an illusion, a mirage. It couldn’t be. Yet, nothing explained his strange coldness.

Hadn’t he told me a month ago that he was rejecting the overseas job offer because he couldn’t bear to leave me?

And then he had gone missing for a whole month. No calls or messages. No answer to my texts or calls.

And today, as he’d declared he was leaving, his voice had been devoid of any emotion. His eyes had taken on a vacant, distant look. There hadn’t been even a shred of love in those deep, mesmerising brown eyes. If anyone had seen our interaction today, they would have thought of us as two strangers who had accidentally met in an awkward situation. 

Tears stung my eyes as I heard the receding sound of his car’s engine. He was really gone. I raised my eyes to the heavens, seeking an explanation. A million stars twinkled above without a care about what was happening in my world.

I dragged myself up, turned the bend in the village road, and entered our compound. In front of me, my house lay drenched in darkness. In all the years since we had moved here, I had never seen it this way. It always sparkled brightly with light, laughter, and love. Today it resembled me—abandoned.

I sat on the porch, trying to understand what had transpired in the past half an hour.

Where had it gone wrong? With my heart brimming with joy , I’d texted him my exam results right in the morning.. Then I’d patiently waited for his congratulatory call.

He would be proud, wouldn’t he? After all, he was the reason I aced all my papers. Then he had messaged that he was on his way to Sreepuram. I had rejoiced. I’d thought he was coming to congratulate me in person. How wrong I had been!

We had met at our usual rendezvous point.

After the bend in the road between Sreenilayam, Naveen’s ancestral home, and my house lay a sarpa kavu, a conserved sacred forest reserved for the worship of nagas or snakes. We loved the serene, cool ambience inside the kavu. It was our little heaven. We used to there secretly to avoid running into any acquaintances. The kavu was a place frequented by none.

He’d been waiting at the entrance to the kavu, leaning back on his car, his arms crossed, impatience writ large on his face.

“I passed. I am so happy,” I’d declared as I approached him with a huge grin on my face.

His face had remained blank.

“Congratulations. You deserved it,” he’d said in a stilted voice.

I’d stared at him, taken aback by the lack of warmth in his greeting. Usually, the moment we met he would pull me into his arms and kiss me till my legs buckled underneath me.

“What happened, Naveen? Is something wrong?” I’d asked, approaching him.

“This,” he said, waving his hand in the space between us. “This is wrong. And I am putting an end to it.”

Wrong?

“What do you mean?” I asked, refusing to believe what I’d just heard. “How can you say that about us?”

“There is no us and should never be. It was a mistake from the beginning and I am determined to correct it. That is the only reason I came to meet you today.”

“A mistake? I never considered what we had as a mistake. How can you say that?” I said, my heart shattering with each passing second.

“You might think differently now. But trust me, you’ll forget me. You might even laugh at the silly dreams we shared,” he said, his eyes refusing to meet mine.

Forget him? I couldn’t even contemplate that. Not a second passed by without me remembering him. And he was asking me to forget him?

“I can’t.”

“You can, and you will,” he said. After giving me one last look, which was still devoid of any warmth, he got into his car.

“Naveen, don’t leave me like this. At least tell me what is wrong. What did I do to make you angry?” I asked, holding on to the car handle, trying to prevent him from leaving.

He looked straight ahead and refused to face me.

“Nothing you say or do is going to change anything. There cannot be an ‘us’. Ever. Do you understand?”

“Naveen…”

“Go,” he’d said and closed the car door with a bang. Then, without a second glance, he’d driven away.

 Go. The word resonated inside me again and I sobbed.

“Let it all out. Crying is good,” my mother would have said.

I couldn’t wait to cry on her shoulders. She was my cheerleader, the one who taught me to believe in the messages of my heart. She had imbued in me the courage to follow the path of love. 

My parents should have returned by now. I stepped onto the veranda and retrieved the key hidden under the flowerpot near the steps. The temple was at a distance of just thirty minutes. An unease crept up my heart. What was delaying them?

I pulled out my phone and called my mother. I waited nervously as it rang.

“Amma, where are you? Why are you late?” I asked as soon as the call connected.

There were a few seconds of silence before a strange male voice answered.

“Are you related to the owner of this phone?”

Taken aback, I asked, “Yes, I am. Who is this and where is my mother?”

Silence. I heard the person at the other end of the line take a deep breath, as if he was composing himself. Then he spoke in halting words, “Don’t panic, okay? There has been an accident. Your parent’s car was hit by a truck that had jumped the signal. Both the occupants of the car are critical. Please come to the city hospital as soon as possible.”

As a silent scream escaped me, I asked the man to repeat what he had just said, all the while hoping I’d heard him wrong. Seconds later, I cut the call with trembling fingers.

For a long minute, I stood frozen, my mind blank. An owl hooted from somewhere near, snapping me out of my trance.

Shaking my head, I tried to think. I had to get to the town as soon as possible. Emotional stress was blocking out all logical thoughts. The last bus to the town had left a long ago and there wasn’t any taxi service available in our tiny village. What should I do?

As if answering my question, the light at the gate of our neighbour’s house turned on and I could see their ambassador parked right in front of the house. I dashed across the darkness that was slowly engulfing me and rang their bell repeatedly.

My whole body trembled as I repeated to Arundhati Ammamma what the stranger had told me. She grabbed my hands in hers and shouted to her driver, Gopu, to take the car out.

“They will be alright. Don’t worry. I will come with you right now,” she reassured me.

Arundhati Ammamma wasn’t my grandmother. We weren’t even related. All the kids in the neighbourhood called her Ammamma, which meant grandmother, on her insistence. She showered love on all of us equally.

And that night she became my pillar of strength. Throughout that wretched night, she remained by my side while my parents struggled for their lives inside the closed walls of the operation theatre.

Near midnight, my mother stopped fighting and surrendered.

An hour later, my father, too, followed her. Terrified, I raised my tear-filled eyes towards the heavens and pleaded with the creator.

Please, God, turn back the clock and take me back to this morning.

Please restart the day differently.

In a single toss and turn, you have upended my universe. You have to reverse everything.

Please don’t take them from me.

This was a nightmare, wasn’t it? At any moment, my mother would wake me up with a lovely smile on her face.

As the morning came, realization struck that I was now an orphan. I was all alone in this world.

Get the book here: Amazon India Amazon US Amazon Canada

Amazon UK Amazon Australia

 

Dear Readers,
I have finally finished writing the fourth book in the Sreepuram Series. If you have been following my writing journey, you might be knowing that I have already published three books out of the five books planned in the series.
Book will be out on March 13th.
I am excited to present to you the cover and blurb of the story.

WHAT THE STARS KNEW

BLURB:

Meet two star-crossed lovers: Naveen and Arya. One is a techie turned famed Vedic astrologer. The other is building her life back up from ashes.

Arya: Could someone shatter your heart into a million pieces with a single word?
Once, someone did that to me. I'd vowed to forget Naveen, became somebody else's forever only to realize that forevers don't exist.

I didn't realize the power of our shared memories until he returned.
And now, I can't stop myself from rushing into his arms.
I can't stop myself from falling for him all over again.
But Naveen is not the boy I once knew.
He now speaks of what the stars know, and unforeseen destinies.
All I care about is whether we have a future together.

Naveen: I know I won't survive if I lose Arya again.
The memory of us has hounded me for years.
I regret the moment I left her years ago.
I believed I could forget her.
But time has proven otherwise.
Her dark eyes still bewitch me, luring me into their depths.
But the stars tell me, she is not mine to cherish.
For the first time, I want to challenge them.
I want her to be mine forever.

Plants are sessile organisms that are unable to move but face the challenge of ever-changing or adverse environments. The study of the development of environmental changes in tolerant plants is fundamental for the maintenance and streamlining of high crop yields and plant adaptation in natural environments. The identification of genes that lead to changes or stress tolerance is urgently needed for the growth and development of plants in their natural environment.

The Secret of Plants in the Environment addresses environmental concerns such as the different types of stress situations and plant adaptation to changing environments, including the positive and negative effects of stress on the growth of crops, the beginning stages of plant life cycles, and plant output. This book seeks to discuss the impact of environmental changes or stress on plant life, environmental stress physiology, and adaptation mechanisms. It highlights the impact of environmental stresses on plants and crops under changing environments and gives a comprehensive overview of how plants respond to such environments. It also dwells on some important aspects of environmental change or stress as the main issue affecting the survival of plants at the early stages of their life cycle. In addition, it serves as a helpful guide to the students and to all professionals engaged in teaching and research on environmental-related subjects.

Book Links:

Amazon   Barnes & Noble

About the author: 

Rishikesh Upadhyay is an Indian author, lecturer and research writer.

Currently, he is a lecturer of Plant Stress Biology and Biochemistry in Assam University affiliated college, India. He believes in and writes about Plants and its environment. Much of his work is confined to teaching and researching physio-biochemical and environmental stress responses in plants. 

 Connect with the author on:

Twitter Goodreads Bookbub

Last month marked the 6th year anniversary of my debut novel 'Without You'. The paperback of the book was released on June 3, 2015.

'Without You' marked the birth of a novelist. It also assured me that I could create a story that could grab the attention of readers. But it gave me many life lessons as well.

Let me share some of the lessons I learned through my debut book. Hope you find these lessons informative as well.

1) You cannot please every reader

Even though the majority of the readers have loved the book, there were odd voices here and there who absolutely hated the book. These voices and opinions emerge every now and then. Initially, it hurt to see my book baby torn to pieces by ruthless reviewers. Now I accept the fact that not every reader is going to love my book. It is all about perceptions. Ignore haters. Take feedback from genuine readers and cherish them.

2) Self-publishing can make you financially independent
It was with 'Without You' that I stepped into the world of self-publishing. When I began there were hardly any Indian writers self-publishing. My first month's royalty from the book was 4944.39 rupees. This was back in September 2015. It was my first paycheck from Amazon and literally the first royalty I earned. From then on, my earnings have gradually increased with the addition of every new book. I earn a comfortable passive income now through my books strictly through self-publishing. 
3) You don't need to be an expert at the craft to start writing. You can learn on the job.
When I began writing 'Without You' , all I had was the experience of writing a few short stories. But I knew I had a story to tell. I had been an avid reader since childhood and the words that got imprinted in my mind poured out in the form of stories. I belong to a tiny town in Kerala. Being a small-town girl, I had many limitations. English is not my native tongue though it was my primary language, I made errors. As I was used to reading classics mainly, my sentences used to come out as lengthy and complex. But I was determined to work on it. I sent my story to a professional beta-reader before approaching a publisher. The response from the beta-reader was positive and I sent it to a publisher who accepted it.
4) An editor can make or break the book
The first edition of my book had a few grammar errors and run-on sentences even after multiple rounds of edits by multiple people. I decided to get another round of edits done. I asked a few professional editors to edit a sample chapter and eventually selected the editor who messed up the least with my voice or story. Some editors tend to give the story their voice, instead of retaining the writer's style or voice. Thankfully, my editor was good and she has stayed with me to date.
5) You don't need to spend thousands/lakhs of rupees to market your book if you have build your brand online


I had been a blogger before I became an author. I had built a social media presence as well by the time I released my book. This helped me greatly. I see newbie authors nowadays investing heavily into marketing. Most use the wrong methods. Bulk purchases, bulk reviews, fake reviews, fake articles and fake awards. If you go down that path, whatever money you earn through your writing will go down the drain. The downside is you will have to opt for these methods every time you release a book. Do marketing wisely. Don't fall into the lure of fame and forget why you started writing in the first place. Earn genuine readers and build a readership base.The reviews and ratings I received for 'Without You' both on amazon and Goodreads are all organic. It has over 600 plus ratings on Goodreads and 120 ratings on Amazon India. 
6) Write from your heart 
The most memorable praise I received from my mentor Anita Nair was that I write from my heart. And perhaps that was the reason why 'Without You' succeeded as well. The story was told through the eyes of the female lead and is comprised only of what she saw, heard and thought. I didn't know then that this type of narration is a popular new trend in modern fiction called the Deep point of view. I learnt about it later on and could understand why the majority of the readers who wrote to me praising 'Without You' told me they felt like they were Ananya, the female lead, as they read the book. Deep point of view does that to a reader.

'Without You' is still one of my most popular books and amazon selects it frequently for promotions. It gave birth to the Sreepuram series as readers wanted to know the stories of the other prominent characters in the book. I have written three books in the series now and two more on the way. 
Did you find these lessons helpful? 
Have you read 'Without you'? 
If no, it is available on Prime reading now for Free.Free to read if you have Kindle Unlimited membership as well. 
Preview the book here:

 

With the raging pandemic, we have been forced to change our routines.

In the absence of maids, I have to deal with finishing my household chores while working full time and also writing.

As a writer, I have to read more books. Like Stephen King says ‘If you don't read more books, you don't get the tools to write.’

Sadly, for me, with all the additional chores, I couldn't find time to read during the lockdown.

That was when I discovered Storytel. And literally, it saved the writer in me. It has transformed me into a listener alongside being a reader and author. I am glad that I can still enjoy my book time while managing my household chores.

Storytel is an audiobook app that you can subscribe to and listen to as many audiobooks as you want during your subscription. The app has more than 2lakh audiobooks to choose from and in 12 languages! I am also enjoying the books in Malayalam.

 

And all this comes with a monthly fee of INR 299/- only! Ideally, you would spend this amount on just one book. With Storytel, you can listen to as many as you want! Isn't that amazing? Not only this, but you can also download the audiobooks offline to listen to them later. This is an escape everyone should take!

 

I think the narration quality of their audiobooks is just perfect. It is like your favourite person reading out a book to you as you go through your daily chores. During these times, there’s nothing anyone needs more than this!

Storytel also has a section where the authors and celebrities narrate the book for you. You can find Jeffrey Archer's book being read by Lorelei King, Anupam Kher reading ‘Toba Tek Singh’ and Rahul Bose reading ‘Love letters’ and many more.

Audiobooks come in handy while one is cooking, travelling or cleaning – it simply makes gaining knowledge a lot more convenient and easier. Plugin your earphones and you are all set to get transported into a different world!

Let me tell you some of the interesting features among the many that Storytel has to offer:

 

●      Sleep Timer: It has a sleep timer that allows you to set a sleep timer by clicking on the clock icon on the player. A menu pops out giving you the option to set the time. Once you do that, a moon icon appears on the timeline in the player showing when the set time. I would use this after a tiring day where I’d love to fall asleep while listening to an audiobook, reminds me of my good father narrating a story to put me to sleep in childhood.

●      Speed Control: The speed control option allows you to control the speed of narration of the audiobook. Everybody has their own pace of listening and this feature is just the right addition.

●      Bookmark: Another facility that we get is to create our own bookmarks. If you find any part of the book interesting, you can add a bookmark. Just tap on the bookmark symbol on the app and save it in case you want to go back to it again. I personally like to bookmark my favourite lines from the audiobooks. 

Now to tell you about the four audiobooks I listened to during this month.

 

Sapiens: A Brief History of Mankind by Yuval Noah Harris

This book is based on a series of lectures given by Harari at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. The book tells the entire human history from pre-anatomically modern humans through agricultural and scientific revolutions. It's pretty intriguing and engaging. It looks at how Homo sapiens survived through the years and how we became what we are today.

 

The Healthy Writer by Joanna Pen

There are many health hazards associated with the territory of being a writer. Anxiety, depression, sleep problems, neck problems, eye strain, stress, loneliness, digestive issues. You name it, writers have to deal with it.

In this book, the author talks about how she dealt with her own struggles with being healthy. With her co-author Dr Euan Lawson, Joanna Penn teaches us how to reduce pain, improve health, and build a writing career for the long term.

This book was really an eye-opener for me.

 

The magic of thinking big by David J Schwartz.

 

I have read this book before as an e-book but I went back to listening to it as this has some very important lessons for anyone who understands the power of goal setting. And the experience of listening to it was entirely different. I feel ideas get imprinted more when you are listening to something.

Why I killed my husband by Anita Nair

This book is narrated by my mentor, author Anita Nair herself. That was added plus for me. This story can be anyone’s story but at the same time, it gives the feel of a thriller. It will keep you guessing and also has the typical Anita Nair brand of humour that will make you laugh out loud.

As you can see, Storytel pretty much rescued me from a reading slump. 4 audiobooks in a month. Not bad at all. It infused the writer in me with brand new ideas.

 Want to check out the app?

There is a limited period 90-day offer available as of now at INR 375/-only and I think you should grab this offer right away - http://mooimoments.in/campaigns/englishoffer

 What are you waiting for? Open your ears to stories!

 

Blurb:

Rashi Ratnam, the newly minted design assistant of billionaire fashion designer Neel Mishra, is sceptical when she leaves on a field trip to Kerala with her temperamental boss.

It doesn't matter that she has been harbouring a crush on her gorgeous boss since forever.

The man intimidates her and is cold like ice.

Also, he hasn't still forgotten his ex-girlfriend. 

At Heaven's Cove, the beautiful backwater island owned by Neel's grandparents, Rashi begins to see Neel in a new light. She also discovers his best-kept secrets.

It is the firefly season, and there is nothing that stops her from falling madly in love with Neel.

But love is not easy.

With Neel's jealous ex-girlfriend hovering around them stirring up troubles, life becomes strenuous.

Can they face the curve balls that fate throws at them?

Or will their love die a slow death?

But in the end, is the choice theirs to make?

Read this heartwarming contemporary love story of letting go and letting love in.

Excerpt:

The girl sitting next to Rashi seemed lost in her own reflection. Good for her! It was now worth staring at. Rashi watched as Sara, the main beautician, curled the girl’s long, silky tresses and pinned them into a loose bun at her nape. When she had entered this uptown Mumbai salon, the girl had looked like something the cat had dragged in. Now she looked like a Bollywood diva.

Rashi was in here for such a transformation. Else, the bullies at the fashion house where she worked would continue to irritate her until she exploded. Apparently, she looked like a scarecrow in their perfect paradise. Barely three months had passed since she had joined and already, she had pissed off a lot of people with her quick comebacks and don’t-care-attitude. 

She didn’t care two hoots about what others thought about her. She was there to learn design, not to be a fashion model. For some reason, the girls at the fashion house thought differently. To top it all, Kiarra, her boss’ girlfriend, the true-blue-fashionista who ran the fashion house, had already asked Rashi to always be well-groomed. Twice.

“All our clients are V.V.I.Ps. You don’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable with your shabby ways, do you?” Kiarra had asked her just yesterday and Rashi had taken the day off to get a makeover. If she continued to annoy her, Rashi might have to bid goodbye to her dream job.  

Neel Mishra’s fashion house had been her dream destination right from when she had started designing clothes. The man was a magician when it came to couture. She wanted to learn from him, watch him create enchantment with clothes. But that would just remain a dream if she got herself thrown out before the man returned from his work trip to Florida.

Rashi scowled at her own reflection. Wavy hair, and butterscotch tinted, pimple-prone skin, courtesy of the genes she inherited from her father. A slightly plump disposition and a funny nose which flared too much whenever she was angry, courtesy of the genes from her mother. God must have given the job of creating her to an apprentice. A sloppy one at that. In a family of overly talented, beautiful people, she was an anomaly. 

Rashi belonged to the family of the Ratnams. The whole of India idolised her family. Her grandfather was a stalwart in the Telugu movie industry and her father had continued his legacy. Her brother, Rajeev Ratnam, was a hotshot movie director. Her mother, Urmila Ratnam, was a legendary movie actress. Her sister-in-law, Princess Ishaani, belonged to the Sravanapura Royal family and was also a leading Bollywood singer. 

And who was she? A struggling noob designer at a famous fashion house. She had concealed her true identity when she had joined the team. She had introduced herself as Rashi R to everyone, not Rashi Ratnam. She knew what would happen if her real identity was known. She would either make more enemies or end up having to cater to many fake friends. And then there was also the mockery.  Rashi didn’t want any of it. 

 Rashi hated going out with her mother. Most of her friends wondered how someone as beautiful as Urmila had managed to produce someone as plain-looking as her. And often, they told it to her face. Rashi quietly snuffed the flame of irritation in such situations. If not, her mother would make her regret every single word of outburst. And anyway, who wanted to make an impression on those plastic dummies?! Most of them couldn’t even smile thanks to the many plastic surgeries and Botox treatments they underwent.

Anyway, who cared?! Rashi let out a sudden yelp when the girl working on her right foot scrubbed the heel a bit roughly.

“Hello sweetheart, I do need it when I walk out of here,” Rashi whispered to the girl. Sara’s puny little assistant had somehow evoked sympathy in her. Else she would have snapped at her for being so rough. 

“Sorry, madam. But too much dead skin.”

“Don’t scrub too hard. It is painful,” said Rashi. 

The girl stopped scrubbing and went to the next phase of massaging her foot with some lotion. Too ticklish. Who knew her feet were this sensitive? Or was the girl deliberately torturing her? She narrowed her eyes at the girl. No. She seemed a bit scared. Good.

 Never ever go for a pedicure again, Rashi made a mental note. Dead skin be damned. She didn’t want anyone poking around her toes or heels ever.

Beside her, the newly minted beauty got up to leave. Rashi admired her graceful exit and mentally prepared herself for her own transformation. She was going to impress everyone at the welcome back party they were throwing for Neel this weekend. 

“Go from wanting to become a Writer” to “being one.”

You have been toying with the idea of taking that plunge into writing.

But you work full-time.

You can't find time to write.

I get you...

I work full-time too.

I have a 6-step process that helps me

accomplish my writing goals.

Want to adopt them?

Let's begin...

Step 1: Guard your time: Practice Saying No

Scenario one: 

You have fixed working hours. A colleague asks for help.

You agree. He is a friend, after all. You slog at the computer for hours

solving another man's problem.

Scenario Two: A get-together is being planned. You are unanimously chosen as the organizer. 
They say you are the smartest of the bunch.

You agree. 

You devote your free hours to planning and making the event a grand success.

Scenario Three: 

Your friend calls whenever you are both free. You spend

hours on the phone discussing other people's problems and despairing

where the world is going.

Are you someone who can relate to any of the scenarios mentioned

above?

Do you have difficulty using the word 'No'?

Shield your time. A second gone is lost forever.
Step 2 : Prioritize: Fix a writing timeEven if you are a productivity superstar, writing can often get sidelined.
So, make writing your top priority.
Fix a time that suits you.
Promise yourself that you will write daily.
You don't need to dedicate hours to a writing project every day.
A few minutes at a time. Half an hour daily. A dedicated hour.
It can be anything.
Write a sentence, write a paragraph, write an entire chapter.
Get some writing done.Remember, little drops of water make the mighty ocean.
Step 3: Plan
Like any project you undertake, your writing project also requires careful planning.
Whenever you get time, think about your book.
Allow it to get completely formed in your mind before you even startwriting.
If you are writing a novel, think about what you want to happen in the opening scene.
Think about the dialogues your characters might say.
Ponder on who your characters are? What makes them tick?
Decide how you want the story to progress.
Get clear on how you want the story to end.
Make post-it notes and pin them above your writing desk.
 Record voice memos if an idea comes to you while you are driving.Keep a journal to jot down all new ideas.
Step 4: Create a blueprint ( Learn to plot)
Writer's block is one common problem that most writers face.
One of the reasons this occurs is because they do not know how to take the story forward.
Just like how an architect needs a blueprint to carry out construction,you need a clear outline for your book.
In step 3, you must have created the necessary building blocks for your book.
In this step, you will arrange them and create a clear blueprint for your story.
Write down in detail what happens in each chapter of your book.
This will help you enormously when you sit down to write.
Step 5: Focus, Write!

Now that you have your blueprint ready, it is now time to get some serious writing done.
Switch off the internet.
Put your phone in silence mode.
Set the timer for 30 minutes and just write.
Let nothing distract you when you write.
Laser focus.
Enjoy the process!
Step 6: Set clear writing goals, reward yourself
Every day, set realistic goals according to your schedule.
Work towards it as much as you can.
Relax. Put on a piece of soothing music, and conquer your daily goal with a smile on your face.
If you achieve your daily word count target, pat yourself on the back.
If you reach your weekly word count target, reward yourself.
It can be anything.
A book you have been planning to buy.
A long bubble bath. A walk in the park.
Dinner at your favorite restaurant.
A quick weekend getaway.
Keep your writer self happy!
Onward!
So let's recap...

A scandal-averse Maharaja.
A free-spirited actress.
What do you get when you throw them together and add a fake engagement to the mix? 
Either a match made-in-heaven or a royal disaster...
Nivy Sharma knows exactly what she needs - the freedom to be herself and follow her passion. Guess what she doesn’t need? A tailor-made husband.

When her meddlesome mother tries to throw her into the arms of a mom-approved suitor, Nivy runs the other way. 
Right into the arms of the man who shattered her heart.
His Highness Veerendra Singh can recognise a pain-in-the-ass when he sees it. Especially when it falls into his arms.
Even if said pain-in-the-ass has legs that go on forever and lush lips that just beg to be kissed, Veer vows to run the other way. As he did once before...
But, when the marriage-minded princess of Tejpur sets her sights on him, Veer runs back into Nivy’s arms to propose a fake engagement.
When 'fake' starts to feel very real, Nivy and Veer have to decide what is important… long-held prejudices or the chance for a life with the only person they've ever loved.
Will this be their second chance at love or will their broken past ruin their hope for a shared future?

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Read an Excerpt from The Maharaja's Fake Fiancée
“Well, now that we have that mystery all cleared up...” I began, only to be interrupted rudely.“Which one?”His Idiotness stared at me with one eyebrow raised. I had practised that move thousands of times in front of the mirror - unsuccessfully. So, it felt a bit unfair that someone I was rapidly coming to consider my enemy could do it so easily. Was there no justice in the world?“I’m sorry, what?”“Which mystery are you talking about? The one about Zombie’s name, or the one about how you came to swoon into my arms, or the even more important one about why you deigned to step on to Devgarh soil after five years of shunning us?”If I kicked him in the shins like I really wanted to, there wouldn’t be any difference between me and this entitled royal brat. So, I gritted my teeth and forced a smile.“The first two. The answer to the third is classified. If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you. And now that we’ve cleared up all those important questions, would it be possible for me to freshen up before I leave?”“Leave? You can’t leave now, Nivy. We still have to get through all those boring speeches, beginning with Veer’s. I’ve got popcorn, don’t worry.”“After the evening I’ve had, popcorn’s not enough, trust me, Jess,” I groaned.“It is. Especially when you throw it at the speaker,” said Jessie with a wicked grin.“What?” His Hottiness yelped.I blinked. Then, I blamed the mental blip on exhaustion and hunger. I had meant His Haughtiness, of course. I was over Veer. Completely and totally. Even if his arms had felt powerful and strong when they were wrapped around me. I did not subscribe to the popular fantasy of ‘Me Tarzan, You Jane’, but the feel of those arms around me made my legs go wobbly. It was just hunger, I told myself sternly, as I stood up straight and looked down my nose at him. At least, I tried to. It was slightly difficult to pull off when he was almost a head taller than me. Veer stared down at me, and I could swear I saw his eyes flicker over my lips before he turned to his sister.“Jessie, if you throw popcorn at anyone at all, Ma is going to bury you in the dungeon. Now, do you want to sneak Nivy up to your room before anyone sees her like this? I’m pretty sure those leaves in her hair aren’t accessories,” he suggested, with a grin.I stuck my tongue out at him, and I realised that Veer was staring at my mouth again. Hungrily. I cleared my throat and turned to Jessie. Unfortunately, my best friend was glaring at her phone.“Ugh! His Deepness is looking for me. Probably wants me to strain his broccoli soup,” she said with a weary sigh.Her brother frowned at her.“Jessie, are you sure you like this guy?”She sighed again.“The jury is out on that, Veer. Let’s see,” she said with a grimace that had me worried.I couldn’t imagine my take-no-shit friend allowing anyone to bulldoze her into marrying someone she didn’t like.“Nivy, do you want to come in with me?”I shook my head. Where not-so-Deep was, Anika was sure to be. “Maybe later, Jess.”She gave me a small smile and walked away. Veer turned to follow her.I was planning to wait for Aryan to finish his speech and then drag him home. But Veer had barely taken a few steps when I saw Jay Malhotra heading towards us.I took one look at the determined gleam in his eyes and realised that I needed to do something very drastic to drive him away before my mother hounded me into marrying him. I could think of nothing worse than being married to that vile mouth breather.So, I did the most outrageous thing that I could think of. I caught Veer by the hand and pulled him towards me.“What...?”“Shh! Just stand still,” I hissed.Jay was almost in front of us, staring at us in confusion.“What are you doing?”“Umm, Veer, would you mind very much if I kissed you?”


Meet the Author:

Alisha Kay is a Delhi based writer, who writes romances set in India.She doesn’t hold with the concept of damsel-in-distress, which is why her heroines are spunky women with a sharp tongue and the ability to rescue themselves. Her heroes are hot men who are woke enough to find that independence irresistible.  The Maharaja’s Fake Fiancée is Alisha’s first book.
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What happens when a free-spirited actress and an uptight Maharaja fake an engagement?

Depending on whom you ask, you either get a match made-in-heaven or a royal disaster.
When Diya Sharma's meddlesome mother tries to throw her into the arms of a mom-approved suitor, Diya runs the other way. Right into the arms of the most scandal-averse Maharaja on earth.
His Highness Veerendra Singh can recognise a pain-in-the-ass when he sees it. Especially when it falls into his arms.
Even if said pain-in-the-ass has legs that go on for ever and lush lips that just beg to be kissed, Veer doesn’t need another scandalous actress destroying his family’s happiness. So all he wants to do is run in the opposite direction.
But, when a marriage-minded princess sets her sights on him, Veer runs back into Diya’s arms to propose a fake engagement.
When the lines between real and fake start to blur, Diya and Veer need to decide what is important? Long held prejudices or the yearnings of their heart?




Alisha Kay is a Delhi based writer, who writes romances set in India.

She doesn’t hold with the concept of damsel-in-distress, which is why her heroines are spunky women with a sharp tongue and the ability to rescue themselves. Her heroes are hot men who are woke enough to find that independence irresistible. 

A Maharaja of Her Own is Alisha’s first book.