Any takers For Inconvenient Relations Book 2?

Ok I agree. The book was awfully written and I truly apologize to all those who want to tell me so. Yes I get your message loud and clear. If you are wondering what I am talking about please check this link. I should not have published it. I wish I could undo the wrong but I can’t. So I guess I have to live with it 🙁

Now a critical question (critical for me). What happens to the sequel? What happens to the rest of Shaan and Ruhi’s tale? Is there anyone who cares to know? Anyone out there who wishes to read it? What should I do now that I have completed the manuscript? Should I scrap it? Consign it to flames (metamorphically speaking)? Please tell me because I want to know.

Human After All- Prologue

Hi readers and dear friends,

Hope you are all enjoying The New Year and have not broken your resolutions already. If you have that’s okay. There will be several more opportunities to make and keep them in the future.

I am presenting before you a story of mine that I wrote a while ago before my first novel. Some of you are familiar with it. It bears a special place in my heart because it helped me discover the writer inside me. Hope you like it 🙂

HUMAN AFTER ALL

Human After All is a phrase I picked up from a favorite song of mine by Level 42. It struck me as being so basic yet poignant to the human condition that I had to make it the underlying theme of my story. So while reading and pondering about the goings on I’ll ask all of you to keep it in my mind, that we are all ‘Human After All’– liable to make mistakes, jump to conclusions, have misunderstandings and be generally crazy!

So here’s a brief intro of our protagonists:

Khanak Agarwal is a young, sincere, hardworking doctor who truly believes in the essential goodness of mankind.

Shantanu Khandelwal is a Harvard educated architect who is ambitious and leery of developing lasting relationships with women. That is until he stumbles into our heroine.

PROLOGUE

Why does it always have to happen this way? Why do I always have to be last in line for the loo? Why do they discriminate between economy and other classes? Do they think we have better bladder control?

“No ma’am you can’t come in here. This is business class.”

Khanak couldn’t control her urge any longer and began hopping from one leg to the other; “You don’t have to tell me that. I know very well this is business class and that is the why I’m here! Please can I use the rest room? Back there, it’s like a zoo!”
“No ma’am, I’m sorry but you have to wait. Those are the rules!”

“Who are you to tell me the rules? When nature calls you have to obey! If you don’t allow me in here, I may have an accident and you’d be responsible, not me!”

The German stewardess who looked clearly flustered decided to give in and let Khanak use the rest room. Anyhow it was empty. Khanak nodded her thanks and breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that her ruse had worked, or else… She didn’t want to think about it.

***

“Oh! We’ll be landing in forty minutes! I better finish these pooris. Though they are more like cardboard in consistency but we shouldn’t waste anything, should we son? When they charge us an arm and a leg for each seat!”

Shantanu nodded relieved he didn’t have to tolerate Mr. Gupta’s company for much longer. He had found the New York to Germany segment reasonably amusing with no one in the adjacent seat and a very beautiful blonde stewardess at his beck and call. The only sore point had been that his favorite magazine had decided to dedicate its latest issue to women! Women in business, politics and other professions. He hadn’t found a single article that concurred with his POV. That women are the weaker sex and good for only a couple of things. What had the world come to?

Then plump Mr. Gupta had joined him in Frankfurt and had been so delighted to sit next to a fellow Indian that he had chosen to enlighten him with his life story in not so few words. Despite Shantanu’s best efforts to show his disinterest, Mr. Gupta refused to be dissuaded until he fell asleep, But then his snoring akin to a steam engine passing through a tunnel, kept everyone awake.

Shantanu turned up the volume on his headphones wondering how someone could talk and eat at the same time. Beethoven’s 9^th thundered in his ears. It was one of his favorite symphonies. As he began to lose himself in the final crescendo, he felt someone roughly jolt his shoulder. He opened his eyes irritably and saw Mr. Gupta clutching at his thick throat. He was choking!

Serve him right! was Shantanu’s first reaction yet when he saw the man’s eyes start to bulge he panicked and hit the call button. The beautiful blonde made her appearance almost immediately but when she saw Mr. Gupta she called for assistance. A big burly steward shook the poor man by the shoulder and asked him something unintelligible. Mr. Gupta didn’t respond because he was in extremis. He started clawing at his throat.

“He needs a doctor now!” Shantanu yelled as he watched his companion’s plump face turn a bluish hue and beads of sweat pour down his face.

“I am a doctor! Move out of the way!” A petite slim Indian girl announced with a very authoritative voice as she shouldered her way through. She had said the magic words. The burly German who dwarfed her willingly stood aside.

“Are you choking?” she asked Mr. Gupta. When he nodded, she made him stand up and positioned herself behind him. Shantanu didn’t know how she accomplished it but she encircled Mr Gupta’s huge chest with her arms and thrust repeatedly inward with her fist. On the third try a large piece of brown stuff flew out of his mouth and he started coughing loudly and color rapidly returned to his face.

Everyone smiled and breathed a collective sigh of relief as Mr. Gupta indicated he was fine. Then they all pumped the girl’s hands and thanked her profusely.

“Dhanyawad beta, you saved my life. I don’t know how to show you my gratitude,” Mr. Gupta said.

“It’s alright sir. I was just doing my duty, that’s all. I’m happy I was around and I could be of help.”

“Help?! That’s an understatement! What you did was a miracle!” Shantanu chipped in having been a silent witness so far.

She turned as if noticing him for the first time. She wasn’t much older than mid or late twenties and had the most beautiful jet black eyes. But now they were looking at him with scorn, “Mister, if you wish to call it a miracle, you can, But it’s all in a day’s work for doctors like me.”

Mr. Gupta butted in, “Beta! At least tell me your name and address, so I can send you a thankyou gift.”

“Dr. Khanak Agarwal, and sir, your thanks is a gift in itself.”

She walked away with her head held high and without giving Shantanu a second glance. Women didn’t do that when it came to Shantanu Khandelwal. He was intrigued.

tbc

PS: Please drop a comment.

Credit for the beautiful siggie goes to Anu.

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The Beautiful Art of Kolam

Kolam is an age old tradition in Southern India. These are temporary geometric designs consisting of curved loops drawn around a grid of dots employing rice flour/chalk/chalk flour or oher types of white or colored powders. Female members of Hindu families draw Kolams in the front of their houses. These are also known as Rangolee in Maharastra, Hase in Karnataka, Muggulu in Andhra Pradesh and Golam in Kerala.

While living in Chennai, I have watched with fascination my mother along with several other women on our street, drawing a fresh new Kolam every morning. This would be done after cleaning the floor with a broom and then with water. They would draw what appeared to be very complex designs in a jiffy, sometimes without lifting their hands off the floor. During the day the Kolams would get eroded by people’s feet, and the wind. But not to worry. A new one replaced it the following morning.

As always these Kolums are not just decorative. They have a cultural sginificance. They are meant to bring prosperity to the house and are symbols of welcome as well. There are many other purposes, but the following is what I found particularly endearing and is probably also true. In days of yore rice flour Kolams were drawn so the ants did not have to travel too far for food. They also attracted small birds and likewise other small creatures, hence welcoming other forms of life into the home and everyday life symbolizing harmony and peaceful coexistance with nature.

Below are a few Kolam designs drawn by my cousin and her friends 🙂

Happy Republic Day!

On January 26th, 1950, India adopted its own constitution and officially became an independent republic. Today, when our most fundamental right of Freedom is being threatened, let us all get together, not just Indians but global citizens of the world, and celebrate this very important day and determine to fight against all those forces who wish to snatch away what we hold most precious from us.

HAPPY REPUBLIC DAY!

The preamble of The Constitution of India

First Republic Day Parade in 1950

The Indian Tricolor setting the skies ablaze.

Rhythm & Blues Chap 26: Beloved

Chap 25

26: Beloved

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“Could you… consider pretending,” Shaan paused; “that we are… deeply in love with each other?” He said and waited for her reaction. Please don’t say no.

“Pretend?” Khanak’s beautiful eyes grew wide.

“Uh…huh…I mean put on an act for the benefit of the world in general and one person in particular—Tash. ‘Cause I want to hit her where it hurts the most. I want to crush her pride, make her blind with jealousy. So much that she digs her own grave and falls victim to her own machinations.

And do so in such a manner that there is no hope for recovery. She deserves no sympathy;” he said looking grim and determined.

But his eyes were tender when they turned to Khanak; “This way she will surmise nothing and when she does… it’ll be too late.”

“But why play a game? Why don’t you simply tell it to her face?” Khanak asked.

He sighed; “I could but she wouldn’t believe me. She has assumed such a thick cloak of self-glorification and prejudice that criticism or rejection of any kind will glide off like water from a duck’s back.

No that wouldn’t work,” he pursed his lips. “That armor has to be riddled with so many holes that she drowns in her own putrid cesspool of despair. And I think it can be done because she too possesses a vice that has spelt the downfall of many…”

His mouth twisted into a cynical smirk; “For some reason she possesses this false notion that she is irresistible. That she is god’s gift to man. She believes I’m crazy about her and that I’m just playing hard to get which makes her even more tenacious. What she doesn’t get is that men look for other things in a potential mate… like inner beauty for instance.” He looked keenly into Khanak’s eyes making her blush again.

Shaan stared riveted. He was enchanted by her virgin allure. He fought a compelling urge to take her in his arms and reassure her of his undying devotion.

It is agonizing but I can’t rush it now, he thought. That moment has come and gone. Her trust in me has faltered and in order to win it again I have to give her space and give her time.

Continue reading →

Tomorrow is ‘Not’ Just Another Day

Tomorrow wouldn’t be special

Hadn’t it been for the Romans

And now that it is

What are we going to do about it

Are we going to wake up and go about business as usual?

Or stop a moment and ponder on the year past…

It was Good and Bad and Terrible

In ways unimaginable

Yet beaten and bedraggled

Many of us made through

That should mean something

Tomorrow, as the world grows a year older

Let us approach it with a clean heart

And a sense of responsibility

Because we all are special to still be here

Let us start tomorrow as CITIZENS OF EARTH

Another Great Review on ‘Milan’

“Ms. Simi K. Rao does a tremendous job of weaving the customs and traditions of a prearranged Indian wedding. I was pulled into this vast country and treated like royalty as I read and savored the many traditions foreign to western culture. I was amused and bemused with this enchanting, culture-filled coming of age story about the jitters and joy of preparing for a woman’s big day.” ~~Chiara Talluto, Author of Love’s Perfect Surrender.

More Reviews

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Rhythm & Blues Chap 25: Oblivious

chapter 24

25: Oblivious

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“Aati kya khandala?”

Khanak’s breath caught in her throat and her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she’d failed to notice the car.

Dreading the worst, she chanced a peak out of the corner of her eyes and saw them; three men in a dark red convertible that was hugging the sidewalk and trailing just behind her.

It was her worst nightmare.

Why me?

Ignore them!

Lifting her head, her posture belying a confidence she lacked, Khanak fought an irresistible urge to flee and resolutely continued to trot on.

But The SOBs were tenacious young hounds, disinhibited and emboldened by a liquor.

The vehicle drew in front blocking her progress as she made to cross the street.

She could now clearly see their faces—young slackers who free loaded off their rich dads and whose souls were sold to a life time of sin.

Within moments she was surrounded. They circled around her like hyenas; their blood shot lascivious eyes gloating over her as if she was a piece of meat on the butcher’s block.

She took a step backwards as her skin crawled with revulsion. Her hand instinctively reached for her stole before she realized she had none.

An oily faced juvenile delinquent; his hand still clinging on to an empty bottle, shot up from depths of the back seat of the car and mumbled; his words an indistinguishable slurry.

“Itni raat gaye, jaaneman…road par.. akele..ek.. khoob surat ladki?” (So late in the night sweetheart, a lone girl alone on the street….)

“Kyun? Nahin chal sakti? Tere baap ka naam likha hai kya?” (Why can’t I walk? Does your father own this road?) She shot back taking cover behind a facade of aggression.

The rogues were taken aback but only momentarily. They roared with glee and inched closer; “Chikni toh teekhi churi nikli yaar…phir toh aur bhi mazei hain…” (Pretty girl is also sharp like a knife. Thereby she will be more fun.)

She eyed them warily, her mind fighting the numbness brought on by fear. She gripped her purse tighter as her palms turned began to perspire.

One of them decided to take the initiative and made a grab for her.

“Aage mat aana nahin toh goli maar doongi!” (Don’t come forward or else I will shoot!) she screamed.

“She’s kidding yaar!” they laughed but stopped in their tracks; their attention riveted as she made a show of slipping her hand inside her purse. She was desperate.

Continue reading →

‘A Tanga Ride’ and an Excerpt from ‘The Accidental Wife’

It has been more than fifteen years since I left my homeland and as expected the memories have begun to fade. Yet some persist stark and bright reinforced by odors, colors and textures and often bring a whimsical tear to my eye. If I go back now, I doubt my experiences will be similar as I’m older thereby more cynical though I like to think otherwise. Some of these reminisces are irreplaceable and as I don’t trust my brain enough I try to preserve them in my writings. Taking a tanga (horse drawn carriage) ride in Agra or through the streets of Old Delhi is one of them. The following scene in The Accidental Wife illustrates it—

Then turning to Naina, Rihaan asked, “What now wife?”

She colored, appearing markedly disconcerted and made toward the autorickshaw stand.

He yanked her back. “No, that’s not what I had in mind.”

A few minutes later they were on their way.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Naina looked at Rihaan, concerned.

“I’m perfectly fine. Couldn’t have asked for anything better.” He let out a contented sigh, allowing his head to sink back into a pillow of fresh straw, and his worn out body to stretch along the length of the traditional tanga. With eyes closed, he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with a mixture of the sweet hay and horse dung. The jerking rhythm, the clip clop of horse’s hooves, punctuated by the shrill cries of the tangawallah as they made their way through the busy thoroughfare was strangely comforting.

——0—–

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Monument of Peace

When you are in Colorado you are never far away from the mountains and when you are in the mountains you are never far away from God–mountians being closer to heaven, hence God. Or that’s how I’ve always believed and experienced.

So what better place to build a monument for peace and spirituality?

Shambhala mountain center located about 2 hours northwest of Denver is a Buddhist retreat located in a beautiful Colorado Rockies mountain valley where people from all faiths and walks of life gather year around to meditate, contemplate and gain knowledge to better themselves and the lives of those around them. It is also home of the Great Stupa of Dharmakaya upon entering which I encountered a perfect quiet disturbed only by the sound of my own breathing. Perhaps the next time around I can learn to quieten my mind.