A conversation with Abhishekh Aggrawal

A comeback in blogging has been made with an interview which was conducted months ago from our literary agency. Author Abhishekh Aggrawal was in conversation with writer Madhurima Halder  and the Blue Sails Literary Agency Team for his book titled, '

1. What suddenly drew you towards this genre of fiction?
Ø There is always a sudden turn in people's life & something similar happened to me. That turn linked my thoughts & got converted into pen.

2.Who was your main inspiration behind writing?
Ø Writing a book is really a very tough job if the legends like Mr. Robin Sharma, Ravinder singh & Mr. APJ Abdul Kalam would not have been there then I could not be able to start with my pen. They really inspired me a lot.

3. If you would go back to your past then which aspect of your story would you change?
Ø I would like to change the phase which occurred in Mumbai when I was down through stomach ulcers & later with jaundice.

4. What was the hardest criticism received by you so far?
Ø I think there are lot many, but I took every critic in a positive manner.

5. Who are your favorite authors?
Ø Books Of Robin Sharma, Ravinder Sing and legendaries like Amisg Tripathi influenced me to write another master piece.

6. What do you currently do and what are your future plans on writing?
Ø Owing business and working as Ast. Director. I have some new concepts in writing and I'm working on the same.

7. Your message for your readers and other authors.
Ø Don't judge anything until you go depth in it because every story has some essence in it & wish readers should come to know about it. About Author's I truly respect all of them & would love to see everyone reaching their dream. Best part is all have some uniqueness in their writings which is understood by other Authors.

I haven't read In Other Words...

In Altre Parole...

In Other Words

Neelanjana Sudeshna Jhumpa Lahiri is a name I had to write about in my pages every moment. And the rest she created was history. I never had anything much to brag about, but one. I don't know anything to speak about, but one. I have even learnt few Italian phrases and words, not because my favourite writer had learnt it for some nearly twenty years, but for that one. 

A lot later I realised what I read was not her. In Other Words was a blur to me. Why did I be so happy after reading it? After all, I read the award winning translator, Ann Goldstein. I then consoled myself that I at least had a grip on her ideas. But how is that possible? Language is like a flow in the oceans. I will flow with the waves, ebb with the tides. There was no point in consolation. I never understood Jhumpa Lahiri's memories, stories, and nostalgia in her book. What I read was just English. And this was the prime reason why I chose to keep my inner spirit walking up and down. I never wanted the sprint of Italian to die in me. I want to keep it alive...alive like nothing else in my life. 

In Other Words is in a haze for me. There are distinct shadows in the book. Starting from its cover to the blurb. Everything is hazy and indistinct. 

Indistinct ideas with shadows all around

Someday I will read Jhumpa Lahiri's In Altre Parole. Someday I too will be able to know her language...till then I want to keep her other books close to my heart since no one knows it better than me, how she had changed me in particular and my life in general. Never in my dreams did I feel that there exists such a form of love, a love which keeps you alive and make you realize that nowadays were never just days. I can relate to her, I can witness her in whatever I write. Is such a world for an aficionado? 

11th July, Calcutta. 

Review of The Monk

The Monk

Written by Akshay Shroff

About the Author: Akshay Shroff has been a successful advertising sales consultant of domestic and international media, spanning over three decades, first in New Delhi followed by Mumbai.
He has been associated with voluntary organizations like the Lions and the Junior Chamber International in senior positions and also with trade bodies like the Delhi Advertising Club and the Press Club of India.
Married to Jayna since February 1981, he has been a responsible family man, a doting father of Rohan and a loving father-in-law of Stuti.
Has a Bon Vivant nature, nurturing friendships since over five decades.
Travel, trekking, reading and writing have been his passionate hobbies.
Lover of animals and Nature, dogs have been his companions on and off.
While THE MONK is his debut novel, writing will now be his full time engagement.

Storyline: Ten-year old Lakshya Gaitonde dreams of following a career in cricket like his idol, Sunil Gavaskar. But destiny has other plans for him.
He loses his father, Police sub-inspector Rajaram Gaitonde in the Mumbai terror attack of March 1993. He decides to follow his father’s footsteps and becomes a police officer.
In the July 2006 serial train blasts on the Mumbai suburban network, he loses his mother and fiancée.
In consultation with the Commissioner of Police, he devises a diabolical plan to crush the menace of terrorism at its roots.
Does he succeed? How does he manage to avenge the killing of his parents and his beloved? Why does he finally don saffron robes?

Review: I received the book on 27th June and completed its review by 29th. This evidence is enough to mention that the book was that much engrossing. The protagonist was well sketched and the character draws your attention from the very first line when Gaitonde goes to solve a ransacked house.

I am not used to reading thrillers a lot but I must say this book was more inspirational than thrilling which is a good point. The usage of words, metaphors and different figures of speech were flawless and the editorial team of Gargi publishers missed out few grammatical errors. It's written like a matured writer and would definitely ask everyone to try this book. It's overall a beautiful read. Unless and untill you read till the till last line, you wouldn't leave the book. It's that much engrossing! Akshay Shroff has done a great job with his debut book. While you read the book, the sentence construction and simplicity, you will never know that it's a first time writer.Even the cover of the book was thrillingly designed.

I would love to rate the book a 3.5/5

Publisher: Gargi Publishers

 Genre: Fiction/Thriller

The Speechless

The gold pot once buried

Doesn't tread back the same path 

And hence the blood in my veins 

Won't flow back

If the clod in the front door 

Doesn't try to tell my story. 

It's winter, my body burns with fever. 

If I don't peep through the clouds, 

I won't be able to see you dead. 

If I don't touch the stars, I can't hold you back. 

Now if you ask to paint back the 400BC paintings...

I will not make a difference. 

I will make a thoughtful aspect like an ape with a book. 

There would be silence if the dumb sky doesn't decide to throw up. 

If you never got the pain. You haven't been full of hopes. 

It's winter but the trees haven't dried up. 

Yet, there's still a point in time.

If I don't decide to walk up to you,

I will be speechless. 

Green stain

A green stain on the uneven geography and

Rhetoric questions on love. 

La donna! is what he said

When I rushed out to drench. 

What is love? A pretty, pricky thing. 

Out in the sun you go, but the tan. 

With time you need fuel. With time you need words. 

Where will I get so much? What should be the tax?

This is a caesura. 

A doubt, an unexpected explanation. 

O what is love?

A stab of a knife or a cat on a hot tin roof?

The Hitchhiker Called Life

I was in an illusion of sound

The sound of Goddess, the sound of enormity. 

I waxed the caps of my child, he liked it. 

For everyone is going outdoors,

And why will mine stay behind?

Since when did we start missing roads?

Only when we were missing homes. 

And when was it that we missed the Moon?

Only when the Child actually holds the hand.

I packed my responsibilities in lunch boxes.

I even indulged in affairs,

You haven't seen Sun shine so bright.

Oh is it summer? Or the last season of pride?

Go and claim your places, positions and positivity

Since you never know when you stop getting loved. 

Risk the elements of life

Be a hitchhiker

For everyone stands on a tripod. 

You drew the rain by the window, I saw you. 

I was unpacking my child's bag

Trying to figure out what he lost,

Books, pens or an eraser?

If books, I will buy him more. 

If pens, I will gift him more.

If an eraser, I will snatch it more.

I see you erasing the drawing.

What do you wonder?

The rain in front of your window would fall straight?

Even the knights of my night stab me with knife

Nightmares seem hollow. 

I am Infinity and one. Did I quarrel less with numbers?

But the bitter illusion of life and it's sweet melodies of earth

Teach me loving is not easy; watch out for more. 

Because you are jittery. 

Neeraj's debut book!

Novel: Falling In Love

Storyline:

 He was witty. She was traditional. He was happy go lucky. She was adorable next door girl. He instantly fell in love with her. She cocooned her feelings. He wanted her. She refused him. Who wins? Why she refused him? Will they meet? Will he be able to sweep her from her feet? Are love stories really for forever? Does love happen only once? How far can someone go to get his love?

Come, be a part of this eternal saga, a journey. A journey of two souls falling for each other where you will find funny one-liners, punches and oodies of romance. If you have ever fallen in love, it’s your story, it’s our story. Relieve, cherish and be a part of those moments, once again!

Author: 

Neeraj Mishra is 2004 batch Hotel Management graduate from Institute of Hotel Management, which is one of the pioneer institutes of India. He is an hotelier turned banker turned writer. ‘Falling in Love’ is his debut novel and he hopes to write many more. He believes in the philosophy of, ‘When your passion turns into profession, your work becomes worship.’

He is currently working in Banking Industry. When he is not sanctioning loans or writing, he picks up his Royal Enfield and goes on long rides. He is a writer who cooks well. He enjoys traveling and is a complete foodie. You can contact him via:

authorneerajmishra@gmail.com                             

Review: 

When I talk of writing styles it depends solely upon the author’s capability to dig right into the roots of what he/she is writing or delivering to the readers. In this case, Neeraj Mishra’s book didn’t really set the bars high but was able to convince. His two main protagonists, Manav and Sriti were well described but lacked characterization in some way. The one-liners were indeed splendid and I had a nice time reading these lines. The opening scene was scripted nice which will definitely keep the reader held to this book. In simple words, the book being a not so interesting read had a captivating sense of humour. Moreover, it had a predictable ending.

Writing Style: 

Pure, simple and what we call day-to-day English was used which will be easy for any reader to easily finish it off fast. The story runs rapidly as well and thus I describe it as a fast-reader. The language used was undemanding and coherent. The book lacks proper editing and proof-reading. There are numerous grammatical errors which is sometimes disappointing. 
Rj Publishers must have better editors. 

Story:

In my opinion, Neeraj Mishra could have worked out more with the story. However, being a fast reader I must say it didn’t really appreciate and didn’t really disappoint me too. The story was average, a normal one with a climax indeed interesting. I hope readers pick this book up. They will surely enjoy it during their leisure time.

Ratings:

I thereby rate this book a 2.5 out of 5. 

Viola

It was a beautiful morning 
And the sun shone because it had to.
Intervals played with motions,
Harmonic as a viola
Sharp as a harp.

Today shadows played with her music stand
Viola clefs turned to a stretched version of their deceiting curves...
Out went a music full of semibreves,
Lonely, longing and lustful.

Fingers moved,
But homecoming was far from the syllabi
And my voice calling her was out of apathy.
Apathy or sympathy?
Footnotes on a musical returning with its taste.

It was a beautiful night
And the moon shone because it was supposed to.
Tonight intervals listened to motions
Harmonic as a listener
Sharp as a whisperer.

Finding Literature through Poems

When my book shelf broke into a speech one morning, I discovered I am a writer finding my space. My neck being held high up against the wall, the bookshelf spoke of imprisonment and infinite freedom and my faces moved with its whiplash, injuring my cheekbones. We all are reading something, be it poems or a prose, trying to understand what they connote, and of course living Literature by writing poems. When I try to look towards uniqueness it is always through stanzas which deal with a fair sense of strangeness providing an eerie feeling. Last year it was a sort of survey I dropped on my shoulders to go through poetry collections in the Kolkata pustakmela. Priorities were language which included incongruity and verses and that would resonate.

I found myself in a fuss when I entered stores. I couldn’t really make up my mind, what shall I read? What shall I buy? Whom shall I read? And then I entered the next store…

I must mention Kolkata has variety. The first few books I went through were Donne’s. I never knew much about writers and while just reading a short piece of his, I googled. What happened was I couldn’t move any further and the survey was called off immediately. John Donne’s metaphysical poetries were on topics like joys of lovemaking and humanities subservience to God. His energetic and rigorous uneven lines were characterized by complex witty vanity along with contrasts. The lines which reverberated were:

Now thou has loved me one whole day,
Tomorrow when you leav’st what wilt thou say?

Donne’s poem Woman’s Constancy is a quite dramatic monologue. It is full of questions and arguments and the basic meaning is quite clear from the very first lines. The wit of the poem did make it sometimes humorous. His poems made me question lyrics and he played a major role in modern development of notes. I realized when I searched, Donne’s poetry was written some four hundred years ago, inspiring not only Amit of Tagore’s The Last Poem but thousand others. A variety of amorous experiences could be related by me, though they were startlingly contradictory sometimes.

It is not my work to critically write anything on him. I don’t know him even a unit. What made me stop by him was the name A Valediction. Studying John Donne is a future decision but as of now questions after answers keeps on arising. Language was the finest discovery and amalgamation done, but poems? What are these? Just mere verses?

And then the one image of two people, that soul cannot be divided but only expanded and the triumph of love makes me wonder is this possible only through poems? Literature indeed can be only found through poems? Or as if I say for God’s sake just hold your tongue and let me love!

We are great Writers

We all are great writers
We write stories of genres
Everyday writers sleep on a cushion of thoughts
And a pillow of love between their legs
Sleeping in gymnastic positions
One hand on their chest
While the other writing a little short poem.

We claim to be writers
Writing short stories and novels
Turning truths to lies 
And lies to vulnerable lies. 
Not all poets are writers
But among the crowd we are of the same sex
We are poets and writers of course but unique in nature.

We are great story-makers and story-tellers
Prepared to invade pages with inks full of dishonest honesty and irresponsible words
Fifty percent is resplendent creativity 
While the rest is an insincere sight of words.
We are great artists too 
Quitting pages, linking words, memorizing figures 
And letting them down the pipe of the bin.

Oh eve, listen we are great writers of our time,
Indeed indecent and independent.
We are making nature, creating characters.
Writers lose weight
Writers gain weight.
Untimely death gets designed on our troubles
Yes we are writers and each a great muggle.

In the Mid Autumn

In the mid autumn of your life,

When your father opened the door 

After seeing you I gave up my poems, my dearest 

And then Time wasted it's vulgarity on me.

In the mid autumn of your life  

When your mother closed the door 

After seeing you I gave up my love, my dearest  

And then Time overlooked me.

I had a Collection of Songs

I had a collection of songs 

Oleander smelled rose then.
Songs from different lovers
Infinite illustrating illusions,
From people who taught how to be selfishly selfless,
To stay under the shade of eyelids
To whirl away from a glaring bulb.

I have different songs,
The first one was from him, the next one from that boy,
Each spoke of varying forms of love,
Yielding yearns for years.
Light the bulb, touch the filament
Break the bulb, light it now.
O love, can it be so different?

Songs I dreamt of, were present before I could even understand,
I cherish memories of this song list.
Unless the tides keep breaking
I will keep fostering the songs
Past and perfect perfectly blended
Chaste as hindrance

Then the last song was from him, I recollected it just now.

Ajay K. Pandey gets published by Srishti.

Blurb:

This is a true inspiring story of a man who struggled in almost every part of  his life, but when his life seemed to be falling in place, his beloved wife left him halfway and her last word, ‘You are the best husband' gave him the strength to live with. He decided to pull off all her unaccomplished duties and made it a target to thrive for the rest of  his life.

  ‘You Are the Best Wife' is the author’s story—a story of how he lost his wife, his nerve-wracking and unimaginably terrifying journey through denial, resentment, and depression to, finally, acceptance and forgiveness.

Author:

Ajay K Pandey grew up in the modest NTPC township of Rihand Nagar with big dreams. He studied Engineering in Electronics at the IERT (Allahabad) and MBA at IIMM (Pune) before taking up a job in corporate firm. He is currently working with Cognizant, Pune. He grew up with a dream of becoming a teacher, but destiny landed him in the IT field.

Travelling, trekking and reading novels are his hobbies. Travelling to different places has taught him about different cultures and people, and makes him wonder how despite all the differences, there is a bond that unites them. Trekking always inspires him to deal with challenges like a sport. Reading is perhaps what makes him feel alive.

You are the Best Wife is his debut book based on his life events and lessons.

Review:

When I looked at the book jacket it had a beautiful design. This will the first thing which will attract readers towards this book irrespective of the notion, 'we shouldn't judge books by it's cover.' Ajay Pandey's debut book cannot be a miss out. A beautiful story. This book is a simple yet capturing story of Ajay and his wife Bhaavna.None of the lavish or extravagant stuff.  It is just a simple story but while reading the book you will realise that author has put his heart and soul in the book. You will remember the book and specially Ajay for sure, for his simplicity, for story, for his love, for the emotions he felt for his wife, for responsibilities. 
If you are in love or are in waiting for your prince/princess you will connect to the story. 
A book by a person in love - summarises the book.
In simple words it's a 3.7 star out of 5 book. The narrative style was very good. It was not as informative as was expected but a pleasurable read during leisure. 
In my words, 'Ajay has a colourful style of playing with the narration.'

Shankar MM's debut mythology

Author: 

A fantasy enthusiast, Shankar chased his dream of writing a novel and made it a reality. A Mechanical Engineering graduate and a Power Engineer by profession, his passion towards his core field made him to give up his software job in a MNC. His fascination towards mythology and his childhood memories of fighting with a wooden sword and adventures with bow & arrows inspired him to write a novel of this genre. He is presently working on the second book of Raksha duology.

Book blurb: 

“You are neither a good warrior nor a good leader.” These words haunt him. Raksha, a young prince, decides to prove himself and seeks a path not knowing where it will lead him to. However, his destiny has other plans. On the journey, his life evolves into an epic quest filled with magic and intrigue, which he never dreamt of. Set in a fantasy land Riloriya, this water kingdom is not the same as it was five hundred years ago and its history is mystery now. What will be his part in unfolding an ancient mystery? What did he lose? What did he gain?

Review: 

The blurb speaks of innate vigorous mystery and fantasy which slowly gets unfolded in each and every single chapter. This 348 page novel is a very catchy read. Shankar had done a lot of hardwork and research behind this book. It's been a very pleasurable read for me. Raksha, the main protagonist was well described and characterised. In my opinion his character was somewhat similar to mythological characters in Mahabharata. However, there was a set of new ideas and concepts which evolved out of this novel. I liked the concept of a water kingdom which had some ecstatic description. In one word this book is "a fantastic debut of the Raksha duology..."

Best lines from the novel: 
"You need to bear the pain if you want to attain supremacy."

"Holy God! Legends are true!"

Dream house publishers have given us a very nice mythology which can't be missed at any cost.

Behind the wind, indulge

Behind the wind, indulge
Trying to get through the local trains?
Sirens singing?
Heart beating?
Don't worry, you have developed breasts.

Hormones rushing?
Eyes seeing?
Do you have that feeling to urinate?
Or are you amassing the vomit inside your body?

Book Review: The Man Behind the Lens

Author: Soumya Khamari is from Odisha, an MBA and passionate about writing. He held few failed jobs and co- founded an e-commerce company,valscart.com. An avid reader, speaker and entrepreneur. He's working on his second novel.

The Man Behind The Lens: When a twenty something guy failed to find happiness in job and entrepreneurship discovered a less travelled road to his passion. A yelling mother with high hopes and a rebuking father hold him responsible for his inability to distinguish between a mere fantasy and passion and force him to join the rat race. He tried to find happiness in the smiles of orphan and abandoned who have surviving parents and help them reunite. He unveils the dark side of orphanages and the sexual abuse. They say it is Karma and it plays pretty nasty games and unveils new stories everyday. If one day he is behind the bars, the other day he seems questioning himself about his passions and ambitions. Will he be able to survive in the politicized society? Will his psychologist girlfriend or his uncle rescue him? Will he be able to find his own way to happiness and passion?

The above is what the blurb of the book reads. Honestly, this book is different from all the books I read. To get to know more about the story you need to catch up this debutant author.

Review: In simple language the way Soumya Khamari wrote this book is commendable. It falls to a very different genre and readers would definitely love the change brought by the effect of this book. It's a humorous writing on the protagonist , Varun who tries to find his way to happiness and his passion. While I read this book I was mesmerized by the way different tricks of success lay hidden.
It was the best debut an Indian author could give in this genre. In simple words, 'This book will teach you lessons you never heard or read of."
It is an exceptional book which is very gripping with it's sense of humour. It is a worth reading book.

The best sentence from this book was, ' The things you do while procrastinating is the things who should do for lifetime.'

After a long time I came back with book reviews and I rate this book 4.2 out of 5.

Footprints

Within the boundaries of haze,

His voice becomes clearer.

Among the landfills of grey,

Colours of the footprints glow.

Singing souls look within the depth of innocence,

The numbing smell of chrysanthemum,

Turns into fragile dust of cigarettes.

Under my foot they swim for touch,

And on my hand sings an empty box.

Glasses

Blue pastel colours beside the palate stinks today,
Tomorrow the small days will grow old
The shards of glass is hiding my clothes,
Even today the memories remain...
Even today the telephone beside my diary rings
Again and again.

These threads of enchantment,
Have got entangled in my fingers
I have no clue,
How to solve open this knot.
Today very particle of my body seems to remain like the last raga of that night,
That passes through the clouds.

Every evening the lights from the lamps
Blinds me into frenzy
How is this regard?
These dreams make me shudder
I close my eyes to weave a road,
A road to intoxication...tolerance.

If this rains like a storm, there is a way out here
Into a glass of desire
So many times I broke your mirror
To look through the rays into your eyes
But the numb river flows like never before
And the telephone beside the diary rings again and again...

©Madhurima Halder

Dreamland

A little tune spreading soon
Far and near
The brush touches the canvas
From here to there.

Blushing like a bride...

As if the gardens of song grow roses in them
As if the little tune spreading soon
Far and near.
The hamlets open their doors without dismay.

The canvas standing on the easel shuddered
While I drew
The Sun with a brighter 
Form of new

Achinpur...
I created Achinpur
All afternoon
I made Achinpur...

©Madhurima Halder

Shadows of Time...

Thousand seconds to figure out what happened
Twelve seasons of monsoons passed by,
And still they remain in drought
Trying to figure out through the windows of glass.
O desires of heart, what have you created?

Fifty one memories did make me bleed,
Seventy three more to rip my wounds
What is it that I am trying to figure out through the panes of mist,
The monsoon or the drought?
The famine or the loneliness of the days?

When impossibility turns it's head down
Translating the unscripted words
What is it that remains?
O the garden of time
Why are you pacing so hard?

Smoke is starting to set fire on ice
Through the bliss of paradise, Pigeons walk
When unbearable lightning of the sky touches, I start to realise, what did I lose,
Was it the time or just a single moment of love?

Destiny designing it's way out of my heart
The waves of sea turns still
Why are you being so stubborn?
Flow over the last part of drought
The desires will start realizing the arrivals of monsoon.

Eighty seven touches on the toughest part
Feathers seem like stones.
The excitement of the months keep arousing
The timely tales of rain that casts the clock today.

Why aren't you mad O heart?
Why don't you find your own door...
Pavements of diamonds near the fountains, sparkle
While the sailing smoke speak on its way.

©Madhurima Halder