Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Book Review - Color Me Rich by Mohan Deep
I have received a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review. And some books make you think so much, that you can only write honestly about it. Mohan Deep's Color Me Rich has disturbed my thoughts. His protagonist Akash Saigal is too real and for everyone who has been struggling 
in the field of art or cinema, there is probably an Akash Saigal hiding somewhere. Being a student of cinema myself, I have often heard my friends based in Mumbai talk of struggling to pay rents, smoking cheap cigarettes but somehow always procuring the steady supply of booze and making love to that thing called Muse. Mohan Deep's Saigal was like meeting a friend.
The style of 'today' and 'yesterday' for chapter headings is interesting and the non linear narration keeps the reader hooked to the book. When Akash and Zenobia meet it is much more than a casual affair. Zenobia is rich and bratty and is certain of what she wants. Whereas Suma is more like poetry, the ghazal singer , the Muse, the friend and eventually the lover. Between the two women; Suma's character does have a lot of layers. Zenobia on the other hand is a little predictable. I mean we have all seen a lot of Page 3 Celebrities and their ups and downs. At least if we believe the tabloids that is. I wish we had seen a little more of Suma in the story.
Zenobia’s death somehow was a grim reminder of mysterious deaths in the world of glamour and I was actually expecting a lot more twists before the mystery culminated.
Some of the supporting characters like Pran and Bollywood Aunty are beautifully written. A couple of things that will remain with me is the jibe that Akash hears in the beginning of the story for his limited wardrobe and again when we come to know that Akash has to avoid lot of invitations because he cannot afford glamorous clothes to wear all the time. These probably bring no major changes in the plot; but are a reminder of what goes in the making of an artist. The complexity within Akash has been created beautifully and even though the ending is a little filmy, but we can give the writer brownie points for that. Color Me Rich is after all a glimpse of all that goes beyond the camera , exhibitions and bound scripts.
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
Book Blitz
His Christmas Delight
by
SummeritaRhayne
Blurb
Caught by Santa!
For Myra, Christmas means supporting her friends. They rallied round getting her back on her feet after she lost Pete, her husband, so she's always ready to help any of them. No matter to what lengths the challenge makes her go. Only she didn't expect to find Santa almost catching her in her wrongdoings. Then she finds that the handsome Santa is Jay, her old high school friend. Now he's changed from a gangly geek to an attractive stranger. After missing out on the dating scene for a long time after losing Pete, she feels the first stirring of desire. But Jay is playing hot and cold, refusing to admit the attraction sizzling between them.
He’s back in Goa just for Christmas
Jay knew Myra as his best friend's girl. Now Pete is gone, but Jay is finding difficult to let go of the scars he picked up in Coast Guard service. He’s home only to help revive his brother’s toy shop. When he finds himself making excuses to stay, he knows he’s crossing the limits he’d set himself. What’s the purpose in taking this further when he knows he cannot be the one to give her the happiness she deserves? But no matter how hard he tries, the scorching flames of wanting only seem to get stronger. How can he keep on denying the attraction between them when she insists on coming close?
For Myra, Christmas means supporting her friends. They rallied round getting her back on her feet after she lost Pete, her husband, so she's always ready to help any of them. No matter to what lengths the challenge makes her go. Only she didn't expect to find Santa almost catching her in her wrongdoings. Then she finds that the handsome Santa is Jay, her old high school friend. Now he's changed from a gangly geek to an attractive stranger. After missing out on the dating scene for a long time after losing Pete, she feels the first stirring of desire. But Jay is playing hot and cold, refusing to admit the attraction sizzling between them.
He’s back in Goa just for Christmas
Jay knew Myra as his best friend's girl. Now Pete is gone, but Jay is finding difficult to let go of the scars he picked up in Coast Guard service. He’s home only to help revive his brother’s toy shop. When he finds himself making excuses to stay, he knows he’s crossing the limits he’d set himself. What’s the purpose in taking this further when he knows he cannot be the one to give her the happiness she deserves? But no matter how hard he tries, the scorching flames of wanting only seem to get stronger. How can he keep on denying the attraction between them when she insists on coming close?
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About the author
SummeritaRhayne writes sensual romance which is sheer escapism with lots of emotional conflict. She first got published in 2013 and has won contests with prestigious publishers such as Harlequin and Harper Collins India. Writing, she finds, is the only way to deal with the numerous story ideas bubbling in her brain which pop up more rapidly than her keyboard can do justice to. Her pet belief is that even when writing time is in short supply, if the inspiration is strong enough, the story characters get a life of their own and will find a way to make the writer pen them down. When cerebrally confronted with the sizzling interaction of two Alpha characters, the only way to get peace is write their book!
At heart, she's a family person and even though she loves her medical teaching profession, she happily becomes a homemaker when not at work. She loves winding down with music, movies, cricket (strictly watching only) and social networking.
At heart, she's a family person and even though she loves her medical teaching profession, she happily becomes a homemaker when not at work. She loves winding down with music, movies, cricket (strictly watching only) and social networking.
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Thursday, March 17, 2016
Book Blitz
TWISTS OF FATE
by
Priyanka Naik
Blurb
As kids, we thought grown-ups had so much fun. How we wished we could grow up fast. If only we knew what we were wishing for.
Three pieces of a soul, they'd call themselves soul sisters and this is their journey, a journey through the lives of three best friends who accidentally reunite after a decade long disconnection. A round of startling revelations later, the three realize that life is indeed unpredictable. However, in this world of uncertainty, there is just one thing they can still be sure of their friendship!
With secrets confessed, pain shared, tears shed and troubles discussed, they help find answers to each other's problems, just like old times.
Each has a lesson to learn from the other, a story to tell, a reason to say 'I'm sorry' and a reason to say 'Thank you'. Has destiny brought them together to complete the picture?
Will they succeed in finding the missing pieces?
Can every twist of fate be interpreted in just one way?
Join Sharvari Joshi, ParizaadSethna and NandiniMazumdar in a nostalgic journey from girlhood to womanhood. 'Twists of Fate' promises to be a roller coaster ride of emotions that will captivate the reader's heart and leave him pondering on life, fate and all its conspiracies.
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About the author
Priyanka hails from the beautiful land of Goa. She is a doctor by profession and a writer at heart. She runs a private clinic where she consults as General Physician and Diabetologist.
She is a perfectionist by nature and a gypsy by habit…a realist by design and a dreamer by default. Sometimes jaded and sometimes overtly optimistic, she is quite a paradox trying to figure out her role in the grand scheme of things. She has won several elocution competitions during her school days, and has had her poems and articles published in newspapers and magazines.
Being a blogger for the last twelve odd years, it is the love of her readers and friends that has inspired her to come out with a book. She believes everybody who has a story to tell deserves a chance to be heard. She has faith in the power of words. She celebrates the magic of bonds (like the one already formed between you and her) that exist despite time, space and lack of physical proximity.
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Wednesday, March 16, 2016
Color Me Rich
by
Mohan Deep
Blurb
A sensitive love story of a handsome and talented struggling painter Akash Saigal. What happens when he marries an extremely rich and beautiful artist and art investor Zenobia Taraporevala?
Prologue
J J School of Art, Mumbai.
Taking a charcoal pencil, Akash Saigal started drawing the wood-and-stone structure, popularly known as ‘Kipling Bungalow’. He was sketching sitting on a bench on which, in another era, K K Hebbar, M F Husain, Syed Haider Raza, Sadanand Bakre, V S Gaitonde, even Dadasaheb Phalke had sat with their sketchbooks, sketching the house where the author of The Jungle Book was born.
Ganpat Gupte appeared along with two of his gang. Gupte was the nephew of a minister, or so he claimed, and had the arrogance that comes with power.
“Ae Akash, kae karto?”
Akash looked up at the trio and said, “Nothing much. Just a drawing.”
“Okay. What is the day today?”
“Monday.”
“I should have known.Tere ko blue shirt hai na?”
Akash didn’t get the connection, but Gupte’s chamchas laughed knowingly.
“Didn’t you get it?”
“What?”
The three boys sang in unison, “Monday, blue shirt. Tuesday, black shirt. Wednesday, blue shirt. Thursday black shirt. Friday, blue shirt. Saturday, black shirt. Sunday…laundry!”
If Akash was hurt, he didn’t show it. He laughed sheepishly and continued sketching the bungalow.
But he would never forget this.
Today
The elevator zoomed up, taking Akash directly to the penthouse on the 60th floor of Apollo Towers, and stopped with stomach-curdling smoothness. The door slid open to reveal his luxuriously done-up lounge.
He came out of the lift, turned down the passage, and walked over the deep-pile rug to the lounge.
He had returned from the salon.
He felt cleaner and fresher after his bimonthly facial – only Tanveer could give him a satisfactory shave - and pedicure. He liked to have his moustaches- like John Lennon's - done like in the Sixties, and he liked sideburns.
His head was still heavy from drinking until the late hours, but he looked much better than he felt. His studio was to the right, almost hidden behind the lavish bar facing him as he entered.
Perched 550 feet above the city of Mumbai, he could see the Queen’s Necklace and the World Trade Centre. From Zenobia’s bedroom, the Gateway of India and the high dome of the Taj Mahal Hotel.
Pran smiled at him.
Akash returned the smile, picked up the bottle of Blue Label and poured himself a stiff drink.
“Isn't it a little early for a drink?”
Without saying anything, Akash smiled, and switched on the TV.
The TV screen flashed a story over a video shot of Zenobia with him in happier times, followed by a shot of the Mumbai Police Commissioner’s heritage Gothic-style building and a subtitle: 'Mumbai Police give clean chit to Akash Saigal.'
The newsreader said:
“Based on the findings of the forensic department and investigation, the Mumbai Police has declared the death of noted artist and socialite Zenobia Taraporevala suicide. It may be recalled that a year ago, Zenobia died from a fall from her 60th-floor penthouse. There were questions about her death. Was it a suicide, or an accident, or was she pushed to her death? Her husband, the famous artist Akash Saigal, was under a cloud all these months. It has now been established that tired of being confined to a wheel chair after a car accident, a depressed Zenobia committed suicide.”
Pran jumped out of his seat, still listening to the newsreader with open-mouthed amazement. He shouted: “Wow!”
Both the men hugged.
A shot of Prime Minister Narendra Modi now flashed on the screen, as the newsreader continued, “Prime Minister Narendra Modi will visit Singapore….”
Akash smiled tiredly at Pran.
“You already knew about it?”
Akash nodded and absent-mindedly picked up an envelope. He took out the card, glanced at it, and pushed it back. It was an invitation to his own function.
“Boss, when do we leave?” Pran asked.
“We have lots of time. The inauguration is after three hours, and the ministers never come on time. Agar aa bhi gaya toh hamari woh Fareeda baithi hai. Sambhal legi. Dad will take care of it. Chal baith, tu bhi le.”
“No, not me. I’m driving,” Pran said solemnly.
Akash knew that this was not the time to drink. He shouldn’t appear sloshed in front of the entire world and the prying media. He took another sip, and changed the news channel.
And found himself staring at a picture of Zenobia on the screen. The still picture changed to a video shot of Zenobia and he at a party.
The newsreader was ranting:
“In India, the law mandates that the husband be questioned for cases involving the death of a woman within seven years of marriage. Akash and Zenobia had been married for barely two-and-a-half years. And Zenobia had died under mysterious circumstances, falling from the French window of her penthouse! The police always look for ‘the other woman’ in a case like this.”
The TV showed a shot of Suma, followed by a video shot of Suma and Akash emerging from the JW Marriott in Juhu. The newsreader went on: “And they found her in Suma. Suma Malkani, the beautiful ghazal singer.”
The State Minister for Cultural Affairs, Nanasaheb Palekar, was to launch the art school, named after Zenobia Taraporevala-Saigal, that evening at Powai. There had been several protests because of the controversy over her death, but the minister ignored them all.
A protest was planned for the same day by Kapila Khandelval's NGO. It was unclear whether the NGO would go ahead with the protest or cancel it in view of the clean chit given to Akash by the police.
This project had been his baby and Zenobia's dream. The government had given the land and the Taraporevalas had put in the money. Fareeda had inserted a business angle even in this dream project of Zenobia's. The Zenobia-Akash Saigal School of Art had become the Zenobia-Akash Saigal School of Art and Business Management. She also had plans for a Madame Tussauds Wax Museum in an annex. The minister had given the nod for that, too.
Akash’s mobile rang.
He looked at the screen and let it ring.
Taking a sip of his drink, he moved towards his den. He stepped into his room, and before he could shut the door, the phone near the bar table rang.
“Boss?” Pran said. “Fareeda is on the line.”
Fareeda would be having kittens without him. Akash’s association with the project had given it respectability and even a cultural cause, and got the plot at one-eighth its market value, and all the permissions.
"Fuck her!" Akash said, but he answered the phone anyway.
Fareeda seemed frantic.
"The media will be here in three hours. And the minister, too."
Akash said, “Fuck the media!" and hung up.
The TV newsreader went on:
“Before Akash Saigal hit the big time, he lived in a small apartment in Adarsh Nagar, in the western suburbs. His paintings didn't earn him enough to buy a decent vehicle. He travelled by buses and cabs. While Zenobia almost took a sabbatical, Akash shot to fame with his mixed media and three-dimensional installations after marrying her.”
Leaning against the soft, cool leather of a luxurious sofa, Akash said, "Cigarettes?"
Pran was already sliding open the glass door of a cabinet. A carton of Marlboros had just one packet left. He gave the packet to Akash, grinned, and threw the carton in the trash box.
They might have been sharing the same flashback, the same past.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mohan Deep, is an Indian author, painter and Feng Shui Master. Mohan Deep is the author of ‘The Mystery and Mystique of Madhubala’ (1996), ‘It’s My Life’ (Novel) (1997), ‘Simply Scandalous: Meena Kumari’ (1998), ‘Eurekha!’ – an unauthorized biography of Rekha. (1999), ‘Four Options’ (2000), ‘Feng Shui for the Bold & Beautiful, the Rich and Famous’ (2001) and ‘Nehru and the Tantrik Woman’ (2002). After a sabbatical of a decade, during which he touched upon the lives of people as a Feng Shui Master, he was back with The Five Foolish Virgins( 2013). Mohan Deep is arguably the only Indian author to write what is often described as controversial, unauthorized star biographies in India. Columnist-journalist and former editor of 'Illustrated Weekly of India', Khushwant Singh called him 'a truly gifted gossip writer'. “The maverick writer”, like columnist-reviewer-poetess.
Tara Patel described him has also been called William Goldman of Bollywood’s stars (By Behram Contractor, the Editor of Afternoon Despatch & Courier) (Source) Kitty Kelly of India (By R K Bajaj, the Editor of ‘The Daily’). Interestingly, almost every book he has wrote/penned has invited controversies for its bold content.
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Wednesday, March 9, 2016
Review- The Madras Affair by Sundari Venkatraman
The earliest memories I have of Madras are of filter kaapi and wonderful thalis. There is, of course, a love for the fine silks that I would greedily buy whenever I visited the city. When the title of The Madras Affair was released, I was intrigued. I take this opportunity to thank Sundari for sending me a reviewer’s copy. 
The Madras Affair thankfully does not take us through a narration of mushy romance, complete with designer dresses and private jets. There is a very strong social theme that runs all though the narration, and that is what makes this book special. Sangita, the female protagonist took me through her pain and journey and after a point I realized that Sangita is not just a character in this book. Even today India has thousands of Sangitas that walk past us or work with us. And probably oppression of women is so commonplace that we do not even realize. A young woman, a victim of marital rape (which some pretend does not even exist in ‘sanskari’ society ), Sangita is widowed at an age when many women have hardly even begun their lives. When the rituals associated with recently widowed women begin, I felt like shaking Sangita. Why can’t she just put a stop to it? Why can’t she just walk out? But thankfully the author did not take that route. That would have been unrealistic. As much as we want to see ‘heroes’ we also want to see real characters. And a young woman with an infant son and no financial independence could not take that path of defiance. Hypocrisy of our society , in which even the educated ones take part comes in the form of Sangita’s younger brother. You would hate him for what he is, but he is one of those essential sub plots. The likes of him are all over the place and Sundari handles it very well.
But Sangita is not a doormat. She picks the pieces of her life and despite the venomous mother she makes a world of her own. Sundari has given little descriptions of her home, the culture and Sangita’s wardrobe and as we read through the words take form of images.
Gautam is almost that character through whom Sundari decides to address social evils, put things in the right perspective. No, that does not mean Gautam is boring and will lecture you on activism. Without getting much into what he does and spoil the fun for the readers, I would say imagine a man with a pair of blue eyes, a romantic and a golden heart. I know I got you thinking.
Widow remarriage is still a very delicate subject in India, and the dealing of it without the glitz and glamour associated with romance writing makes this a special read.
Lucid narration. Perfect editing
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
Soul Warrior: Age of Kali
by
Falguni Kothari
Blurb
Fight fate, or succumb to destiny?
In the dark Age of Kali, the Soul Warrior alone stands guard over the Human Realm, protecting its denizens from evil-willed asuras or demons. When a trick of fate appoints him guru to a motley crew of godlings, he agrees to train them as demon hunters against his better judgment. Suddenly, Lord Karna is not only battling the usual asuras with sinister agendas, but also rebellious students and a fault-ridden past.
Spanning the cosmic realms of mythic India, here is a tale of a band of supernatural warriors who come together over a singular purpose: the salvation of Karna’s secret child.
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Kuru Kshetra Battlefield.
Day 17 of the Great Kuru War, seven thousand five hundred years ago.
Death is hot.
That surprises me. I’d imagined death as cold and brutal. Merciless. But in truth, death is hot as blood, and constant like a heartbeat.
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. My lifeblood ebbs to the rhythm. My head ripped from its torso by Anjalika, the arrow of death that burns even now with the energy of the sun. Struck from behind like some novice. Felled in battle by that lily-livered usurper the Heavens smile upon—Prince Arjun. Brother Arjun.
What have I done?
I harness the thought. Cease all reflection and wrench free of my mortal body. I soar up, up into the gloaming, snapping the ties that tether me to life. Dead, I have no use for ties.
“A matter of perspective, Karna, O son of my godsire.” The unearthly words strum through the air, and I quiver like a plucked bowstring, overcome as much by the voice as its blasphemous claim. “Bonds of devotion nourish the soul, brother.”
There is that word again. Brother. Unpleasant laughter wells up in me. Alive, I am abandoned, denied my birthright—Celestial or royal. Death, it seems, changes everything.
A bright, nebulous light brings forth Lord Yama, the God of Death, atop his divine mount. His elephantine thighs ripple beneath a silken dhoti, ochre and crimson of color, as he guides the mammoth water buffalo to a halt. An iron medallion sways against the God’s powerful cerulean torso, its center stone an ethereal blood orange.
Hypnotic. Pulsing with life. I am drawn to the stone.
“Piteous waste,” Lord Yama mutters, surveying the carnage of war far below us.
I trace the trajectory of his gaze and behold the battered remains of my army drenched in the evidence of its mortality. Is it true? Have we died in vain?
Words form inside me and I will them out. “Shall we go, my lord?”
“Ha! Impatient to be judged, are you? Anxious to have your fate revealed?” asks the Judge of the Hell Realm. His red-black eyes burn with intelligence and compassion in a blue-tinged face that is long and lean and hard. “Rest easy, brother-warrior. You are not bound for the Great Courtroom.”
Not bound for Hell? Where then? Fear has eluded me for so long that I take a moment to recognize it. A hollow-bellied feeling it is, as annoying as a bone stuck in my throat.
“My lord, I have done bad deeds…terrible deeds in my life. I have waged wars, this horrendous bloodshed, and all because my pride could not—would not abide rejection. I have sinned. I must atone for my actions.”
Lord Yama smiles in a way I do not like. “You have redeemed yourself admirably, Karna. You forfeited your life for the greater good today. The deed far outweighs any misguided ones. Be at peace, brother, and enjoy the fruits of your karma.”
There is but one place to enjoy such fruits—the Higher Worlds.
I’d rather burn in Hell for eternity. I say so. “I won’t live amongst the Celestials.” Coexisting with the very souls who’ve spurned me is unthinkable. Watching her—for she would surely reside in Heaven soon—will be eternal torture.
Yama shakes his head, the horns on his crown slashing to and fro. “I thought you might say that. Relax. Your destiny lies elsewhere.”
“Am I to be reborn then? Am I to begin a new life, and forget the past?” Pain, sharp as a blade, lances through me at the thought. Forget my past? My family? Even her? Was that my punishment? To forget all that made me human?
It must be so. For have I not betrayed them as surely as I’ve betrayed my prince regent?
“Human rebirth is not your destiny, either. You are chosen, brother. Your war skills are needed for a higher purpose.” The God slips off his mount, his garments rustling in agitation. “This unjust war has pushed the Cosmos to the vortex of a cataclysm. Tomorrow, the Kuru War will end. Fearing its outcome, the Celestials rolled the Die of Fate and have unwittingly bestowed on Demon Kali untold powers.” Lord Yama bares his fangs in disgust at the foolish gamble. “Imagine the havoc that asura and his minions will wreak on the weak if left unchecked. The Human Realm must be safeguarded during Kali’s dark reign.”
I can imagine the horror only too well as I have battled with evil all my life. But I am done with wars. I am done with defeat. I won’t waste another lifetime fighting.
“With due respect, my lord, I am not the man for this task.”
“You are not a man at all,” Yama thunders, fists shaking. “You are the son of Surya, the Sun God. Accept that you are no ordinary soul.”
I say nothing. I think nothing. I feel something but I squash it down.
Lord Yama’s thick black brows draw together. “Demon Kali will try to pervade every particle of good that exists in the Cosmos, beginning with the corruptible Human Realm. Once he obliterates all of humanity, he’ll set his sights on the Celestials. Kali will not stop until he’s destroyed our way of life. But you can stop him. You are light to his darkness. Do you understand now why you had to betray him? Your beloved humans need you, Karna. I need you. Our father believes in you. Claim your rightful place in the Cosmos.”
Impatiently, Lord Yama removes the iron medallion from his neck and holds it out. The vermillion sunstone glows as if its soul is on fire. Nay! It is my soul that is on fire.
Indescribable energy curls through me. I gasp, though not in pain. I shudder and feel myself grow large, grow hot. Was this rebirth?
I am strong, full-bodied and lethal once more. Then I roar as light bursts forth from my very core and I throb with glorious, blinding power. When I come to myself, my world has changed again. Bubbles of color shimmer all around me: cobalt and saffron, azure and rose. By karma! They are souls. Infinite floating souls.
“Behold the spectrum of life: the worthy, the notorious, the righteous and the sinners.” The God of Death’s soul was a worthy sapphire blue with a tinge of silver. “Your duty, should you choose to accept the office of the Soul Warrior, is to hunt down the red-souled asuras and crush them. Whatever you decide, I wish you a long and successful Celestial existence, Karna,” Yama booms out and vanishes into the purpling sky.
The parley has stunned me. The world of color holds me in thrall. I was dead. Yet, now I am not. A new path lies before me. Unwanted, unwelcome, I insist on principle. I close my eyes. Open them to stare at the medallion cupped in my hand—a golden-hued hand at once familiar and not—and know myself for a fool. I do want this. It’s what I am.
Bastard-born. Rebel. Son. Husband. Father. Warlord. And protector. I fist the talisman, buoyed by its concrete warmth. This is who I am.
I am the Soul Warrior.
About the Author
Falguni Kothari is a New York-based hybrid author, and an amateur Latin and Ballroom dance silver medalist with a semi-professional background in Indian Classical dance. She writes in a variety of genres sewn together by the colorful and cultural threads of her South Asian heritage and expat experiences. She is published in India in contemporary fiction with global e-book availability, and launches her mythic fantasy series, the Age of Kali, with SOUL WARRIOR. When not writing, dancing or being a domestic goddess, she fools around on all manner of social media, and loves to connect with readers.
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LOVE, AGAIN
BY
SUMEETHA MANIKANDAN &
SHRRUTI PATOLE CLARENCE
Blurb
Life is tough, and it becomes tougher when you need to make life changing decisions. Would you dare to love again? Would you allow yourself to be loved and to be cherished again? Many of us turn away from life, thinking that it is not for them but some take a leap of faith rewrite their story for the sake of love?
Love, Again is a double header book bringing you two stories about chancing love again -These Lines of Mehendi by Sumeetha Manikandan and A Tulip in the Desert by Shrruti Patole Clarence.
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Meet the Authors
Sumeetha Manikandan
Sumeetha Manikandan is a freelance writer and an author who loves to write and base her plots on the tambrahm community of Mylapore, Chennai. She is the author of ‘The Perfect Groom’ that has been a bestselling ebook on the top 50 charts of Amazon India ever since publication.
An avid reader, she loves to read across different genres – romance, historical fiction, non-fiction, mystery, fantasy etc. A history buff to the core,
she is currently translating Ponniyin Selvan – the evergreen tamil classic epic history by Kalki Krishnamurthy into English.
Married to film maker K.S. Manikandan, Sumeetha lives in Chennai, along with her six year old daughter.
Shrruti has been a voracious reader since early years and took to composing poems when she was very young.
An Aviation Manager and 10years with various airlines, she has been on a sabbatical for her two son's aged six years and 1 year respectively.
She enjoys this welcome break from career, to be able to pursue her passion, writing!
She has to her credit 6 short stories featuring in different Anthologies all published this year, one of which will soon be seen as a short movie.
And Love, Again a double header romance Novel publish date 25th May 2015, with her story A Tulip in the Desert will soon be seen on the stands!
Her lyrics feature in the theme song of group Young Indians – an off shoot of CII (Confederation of Indian Industries).
Her poems feature in Zest of Inklings and a Hindi poem in an e-book – Ehsaas, judged by eminent Urdu and Hindi screenwriter, dialogue writer and playwright - Javed Siddiqui.
Shrruti is a warm and friendly person who loves music and watching sports when she is not writing.
Shrruti Patole Clarence
An Aviation Manager and 10years with various airlines, she has been on a sabbatical for her two son's aged six years and 1 year respectively.
She enjoys this welcome break from career, to be able to pursue her passion, writing!
She has to her credit 6 short stories featuring in different Anthologies all published this year, one of which will soon be seen as a short movie.
And Love, Again a double header romance Novel publish date 25th May 2015, with her story A Tulip in the Desert will soon be seen on the stands!
Her lyrics feature in the theme song of group Young Indians – an off shoot of CII (Confederation of Indian Industries).
Her poems feature in Zest of Inklings and a Hindi poem in an e-book – Ehsaas, judged by eminent Urdu and Hindi screenwriter, dialogue writer and playwright - Javed Siddiqui.
Shrruti is a warm and friendly person who loves music and watching sports when she is not writing.
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NutriSattva was born of one such desire to go back to our roots. We bring you a range of healthy laddus which are a balance of complex carbs and proteins not to forget the micro nutrients they are fortified with.
Made without sugar or jaggery, these laddus are a boon to the diabetics. They also help as a great pre-workout and post-workout snack supplementing you with the required energy for the fitness enthusiasts.
These days many foods are touted either as organic or as super food. The market is full of such 'health fads' and we all fall for these gimmicks.
In keeping with our hectic lifestyles, understanding how nutrition is the key to our health is the need of the hour. You don't need exotic fruits and vegetables to get fit. What you need is altering your eating habits with simple food alternatives that have we probably savored in our childhood.
NutriSattva was born of one such desire to go back to our roots. We bring you a range of healthy laddus which are a balance of complex carbs and proteins not to forget the micro nutrients they are fortified with.
Made without sugar or jaggery, these laddus are a boon to the diabetics. They also help as a great pre-workout and post-workout snack supplementing you with the required energy for the fitness enthusiasts.
Win the products for NutriSattva
(India only)
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