Thursday, April 30, 2015

Zaffre Alchemy

#AtoZChallenge – Flash fiction based on life’s philosophy or mood or emotions, interpreted using colours.

“Baba, the guests are here!” Tara stomped down the basement stairs and stopped at the last step. “Baba…”

“Sh… sh…” 

She glanced at his raised finger and sighed. It was of no use. She wouldn’t get any help from him, her eyes watered. Why did she expect every time? It’s her fault.

She watched him measure something blue in color from a vial and pour a drop in a beaker on low flame. The matter turned green and he cursed. Being a chemist, her father was always researching for a magic drug for her mother, who was in coma for past five years. Tara didn’t know how he got that blue color powder and was confident to find ‘elixir of life’ with its help. He grunted again and threw the material in the small basin he had installed in the basement.

She knew he would have forgotten her presence and the fact that a family had come to meet her younger sister for an alliance.

“Baba, you have to come for half an hour for Sara’s sake.”

He nodded. Sighing, she climbed the stairs to the living room, feeling tired shouldering the responsibility of earning, being a parent to her two younger siblings and taking care of the family for the past ten years. But there was no way out.
* * *

After an hour, Tara took a deep breath. Everything had gone well. Baba had cleaned himself and sat with boy’s parents for half an hour discussing everything under the sun. The boy seemed to like Sara and they were now talking with each other in their tiny garden. Baba had excused himself on the pretext of tending to their mother, but she knew he had gone to the lab again.

All of a sudden there was a noise as if a bomb had exploded and she ran down the basement with others following her. She gasped as she took in the sight the beaker had shattered over the flame, the entire table was burning and baba was lying unconscious on the floor.
* * *

Dr Arjun Maheshwari was angry beyond words when he saw Tara sleeping on the chair in the waiting room. The worry lines etched on her face even when her body had given in to fatigue. It was midnight and they had been able to revive her father. Her sister and brother had gone home. She seemed thinner than the last week, he had come to check on her mother. He sat on the chair next to hers and she woke up with a jerk.

“Sorry…”

“He is okay, you can go home. I’ll keep an eye over him. Or better still, you can sleep in the couch in my room. Back home you’ll start working again.”

She smiled shaking her head.

“I can’t see you like this Tara. Marry me, let me take care of you.” She shook her head again. “You are on the brink of a collapse.”

“I think I’ll go.” She stood up.
* * *


“What are you researching, Mr. Gupta?”Arjun asked in the morning.

“I will have a perfect formula for elixir of life, then your medicine would no longer be required young man.”

“And when will that moment come?” He was getting angry and didn’t want to curb it today.

“Soon, son. Soon.”

He stood up, hands fisted by his side. “When? When your daughter will also collapse like your wife? When you will lose your sanity? What would your wife do when she wakes up to find that you have sacrificed your daughter for her?”

The old man looked anywhere but him, twisting the bed sheet under his hand. But enough was enough.

“Have you even taken a look at her? She is destroying herself shouldering your responsibilities. Do you even know which subject your son is studying? Has love for your wife surpassed the love for people who are under your care? You are running after a mirage, ruining lives of your children. One should live in the moment Mr. Gupta, and that is the real elixir of life.”

“Arjun!” Tara stood at the threshold of the hospital room, looking daggers at him. “How dare you?”

“He is right,” Baba whispered trying to get out of the bed. “I have to go home. Throw them away. Throw the Zaffre away and everything.”

“Baba…” She held his hand. “Just relax… it’s okay.”

“No its not okay. He is right.” He looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. How beautiful she was? Serene and caring. “How blind I have been..." He touched her cheek. "You are my treasure! You are my gold… my elixir of life.”
_________________________________________________________________________

Check out more A-to-Zers at:
Flaming Sun by Sundari Venkatraman
Devika Fernando Blog
Bewitched By Words by Aathira Jim
Njkinnys World by Nikita Soni
Shanaya Tales
Flightless Bird Thoughtful Wings by Swathi Shenoy
A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose by Shilpa Garg







Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Yellow (Sunshine) Enthusiasm

#AtoZChallenge – Flash fiction based on life’s philosophy or mood or emotions, interpreted using colours.

“No… no this is not the right color. Show me that one…” She pointed to another one and the salesman pulled it out from the shelf and displayed it with the same enthusiasm as he had shown us the first one, an hour back.

Sitting beside her, I stifled a sigh almost escaping my lips.

“She had taken from this shop only… why am I not able to spot it?”

“Who, love?” I asked with feigned interest.

“That actress you are so fond of!” She retorted with a pouty smile. “Forget it, I think I’ll look at a sky blue georgette one… with sequins or may be dabka work.”

I groaned silently, but the salesman beamed and swiftly gestured his helper to clear all the offending sarees spread in front, and quickly selected a few in blue and displayed them as if showing-off his own children.

This went on for one more hour and the salesman managed to sell two sarees to my wife, burning a sizeable hole in my wallet.

Walking towards the car parking with my radiant wife, I realized I had forgotten my mobile in the shop. As I entered the shop, I spotted the salesman attending to another lady with that same energetic, unwavering sunshine smile and the heap of sarees displayed in front of them, skillfully guiding her to choose one.

I found my mobile and silently saluted the man for his passionate enthusiasm for his work.
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Check out more A-to-Zers at:
Flaming Sun by Sundari Venkatraman
Devika Fernando Blog
Bewitched By Words by Aathira Jim
Njkinnys World by Nikita Soni
Shanaya Tales
Flightless Bird Thoughtful Wings by Swathi Shenoy
A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose by Shilpa Garg







Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Xanthic Chemistry

#AtoZChallenge – Flash fiction based on life’s philosophy or mood or emotions, interpreted using colours.

Annoyed, she looked at him again over the specs, correcting the formula and mixing the chemical compound which was turning slightly yellow in color. He shrugged, once again feeling inferior to her when she got the results right. 

Why did she appear so smart during the practicals? Outside the classroom she was just an ordinary girl with eyes on the ground and that large black frame on her eyes. They have been in the same group for the past one year. He was tied to her for the duration of the entire degree course by virtue of their surnames starting with the same alphabet.

“Would you like to have a cup of coffee?” he tried to make amends for his goof-up.

“Why?” She pushed her specs up.

“I am making sure I pass the exam.” He smiled.

“What about your reputation? What will the titlis say?”

Titlis?"


So she had noticed him? This was getting interesting! He looked into her eyes beyond the spectacles and perceived the keen intelligence lurking there. His heart thudded. Why did he never notice the coffee colored cat-eyes full of emotions? Right this moment there was a mixture of mistrust and curiosity in her eyes. He had never thought so many could exist together. She blinked and her eyes changed to resigned indifference. Turning to collect her books and other stuff, she dismissed him like a queen uninterested in lesser mortal like him.

“I’m inviting you. The queen bee.”

She whirled around and frowned. “Are you flirting with me?” The specs slipped down her nose. She looked adorable.

“Of course.”

She smiled and he was floored.
* * *

He came back to the hostel to find his roommate bent on the iPad, intently watching something on YouTube. For the first time he wasn’t interested in the video playing and lay down on the bed, sighing.

“Gee Amit, what was happening between you and miss-chashmish the whole evening?”

“Some kind of organic synthesis.” He glanced at the ceiling fan, a goofy grin on his face.


* * *

Glossary:
Titli: Butterfly

Chashmish: Hindi slang for people who wear specs
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Check out more A-to-Zers at:
Flaming Sun by Sundari Venkatraman
Devika Fernando Blog
Bewitched By Words by Aathira Jim
Njkinnys World by Nikita Soni
Shanaya Tales
Flightless Bird Thoughtful Wings by Swathi Shenoy
A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose by Shilpa Garg







Monday, April 27, 2015

White Angel

#AtoZChallenge – Flash fiction based on life’s philosophy or mood or emotions, interpreted using colours.

The siren indicating emergency and start of curfew went off, creating panic in the workshop. He looked at the wall clock of the factory and shut down the heavy machine. It seemed, there had been another religious carnage in the already burning city. Police and army were patrolling the areas, trying to control the carnage and establish peace. Worried for the safety of his family, he hurried home.

His heart began an erratic pounding as he entered his street and saw an upturned vehicle burning and one severed leg encased in torn jeans and shoe. A kid was wailing at a distance, a desperate cry for help. Heart in his mouth, sweating, he raced home amidst groaning voices, blood and gore.

The door of his house had come unhinged and the panel swung inside anchored to one single hinge. His tiffin box strap slid from his shoulder and it thudded on the floor, unnoticed. The world swam before his eyes when he saw his wife lying on the floor at an awkward angle, her eyes unblinking focused at the roof. Her swollen belly seemed like a ball sitting on her stomach. His legs gave way, but he had to check someone else. Hundreds of bees buzzed in his head. The nightmare continued as he saw his mother half out and half inside the kitchen. His hand on his ears, he let out a silent scream and fell down.

The shock and grief slowly gave way to anger. He pushed himself up and saw the devastation, the disrespect, someone had stepped on the rivulets of blood spilled and had raped his life. The small TV and the only chair were smashed. The utensils and the boxes lay on the floor broken, damaged, telling a story. The knife under the upturned vegetable basket beckoned him, chanting a silent plea.

Murder in his eyes and the knife in the hand, he smashed the door of a family, he knew belonged to the other religion. Mad and wrathful, he searched for someone who could stop the volcano erupting inside. He spotted them cowering under the bed, two children, a boy and a girl. He dragged them out unmindful of their cries and pathetic attempt to resist. A woman fell on his feet, pleading, begging for their lives.

He lifted the knife and saw his mother drenched in blood clutching his leg, crying for mercy. He staggered a step back at the sight, he looked at the kids, his wife, looking like an angel in white, stood behind them with tears in her eyes, saying, ‘I want these children to live, unlike mine. It has to stop somewhere.’

The knife fell from his hand and he crumbled on the floor crying.
________________________________________________________________________

Check out more A-to-Zers at:
Flaming Sun by Sundari Venkatraman
Devika Fernando Blog
Bewitched By Words by Aathira Jim
Njkinnys World by Nikita Soni
Shanaya Tales
Flightless Bird Thoughtful Wings by Swathi Shenoy
A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose by Shilpa Garg







Saturday, April 25, 2015

Vermilion

#AtoZChallenge – Flash fiction based on life’s philosophy or mood or emotions, interpreted using colours.

She looked at her brother entering the house and a stone pressed her heart. His eyes told her everything was over. Her legs gave way and she sank on the floor.
* * *

He lay on the ground shrouded in tricolour and flowers. Dry-eyed, she sat on the floor, waiting for someone to wake her up. Maybe he would plant a kiss on her forehead and laugh the nightmare off.

‘It’s time,’ someone said and they lifted the pallet.

She saw them take him away. Sure it was a horrendous dream—she smiled and closed her eyes.
* * *

She woke up to the chanting of mantras and decided to take part in the Pooja. Tears came again in a never ending deluge­—she was finally awake to the unbearable reality.

Her gaze dropped to the bedside photo, he was smiling while putting the Vermilion on her hair-parting. It was the best wedding photograph, he had said, the colour of Vermilion matching the blush on her cheek. She glanced down at her plain clothes, hands without bangles and forehead without the things he liked. How would she keep him in her life without the things he preferred? Nothing would change, the memory had to be kept alive.

She moved like an automaton and opened the cupboard.

The last stop was the small drawer. Taking out the small silver filigree box, she put the red Vermilion on her forehead.
___________________________________________________________

Check out more A-to-Zers at:
Flaming Sun by Sundari Venkatraman
Devika Fernando Blog
Bewitched By Words by Aathira Jim
Njkinnys World by Nikita Soni
Shanaya Tales
Flightless Bird Thoughtful Wings by Swathi Shenoy
A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose by Shilpa Garg







Ultramarine Canvas Shoes

#AtoZChallenge – Flash fiction based on life’s philosophy or mood or emotions, interpreted using colours.

The dreaded, Sister Helen in our convent always checked our uniforms after the assembly when we were supposed to march down to our classes. She expected the uniform to be washed, starched and completely white, along with the canvas shoes on Wednesday and Saturday (yes, we had half-days of school). She wanted the shoes also to be of the same white color as the uniform’s. While the uniform was maintained by my mother, the responsibility of keeping the shoes shining white or shall I say blue-white lay with us children. It was an arduous task for us younger siblings, since in those days if the shoes were not torn or damaged, they used to get passed on to the younger kids.

So on one bright day before the school, there I was—third in my generation—examining the pair of canvas shoes worn by my sister then my brother. By the looks of the shoe, it seemed it was never washed or mice had played hide and seek around it during the summer vacations in the store room. I groaned for leaving the chore for the last moment, and silently scolded myself for not listening to my mother who had been repeatedly reminding us to check and clean for the past one week.
Then began the process of me sitting at the hand-pump in a corner of the open verandah and brushing furiously at the two year old white-turned-yellow-pock-marked shoes using Nirma washing powder. 

After an hour of arm-aching horizontal motion and groaning, the shoes looked cleaned, but no amount of washing powder or brushing could remove the mice-what-not stains. Sister Helen’s disapproving frown etched in my memory made me go at them again. I didn’t want to stand outside the classroom on my first day of senior school.

‘When it is slightly dry use chalk on them,’ my sister advised. I glared at her who was she to advise, being the eldest she always got new ones.

‘No, chalk is brittle and dusts off too soon. Best is moist khadiya (white indian chalk) dipped in the neel (ultramarine laundry blue),’ added my wretched brother. I listened to him since I considered him the experienced one in shoe-washing.

And lo behold the shoes were matt-white with streaks of blue and spots of brown peeking from the white-blue khadiya mix, the canvas cloth no longer visible. And I put them on a newspaper for drying and went off to sleep with a heavy heart. I dreamt Sister Helen ordering me to stand in the corner while all the children proceeded to the classroom wearing brand new canvas shoes and sniggering at me, throwing disgusted looks down their pert noses.

I woke up to find it was drizzling, then remembered the shoes. I ran out of my bed and my worse dream came true. The chalk had run-off due to the rains, leaving the blues streaks more prominent and shoes soaking wet. It seemed I had not mixed the ultramarine powder and chalk well! My mother tried to help asking me to wear black ones and that she would write a note for the school, but I couldn’t dare go without the canvas shoes.

I was in the seventh position in the line to the classroom and the checking started. My heart sunk to my stomach, I dare not look down. The first one went ahead past sticking her hands out to show the trimmed nails as well. The second one got reprimanded for not getting the knot in the tie right. She couldn’t find fault with the third kid. I couldn’t help and peeked down at my now blue and yellow zebra striped shoes and felt the world tilt on its axis. The kid ahead of me moved in front of her and I was ready to sink to the ground. I took a reluctant step forward…

“Sister Helen…” the Principal called, “May I have a moment, please.”

___________________________________________________________

Check out more A-to-Zers at:
Flaming Sun by Sundari Venkatraman
Devika Fernando Blog
Bewitched By Words by Aathira Jim
Njkinnys World by Nikita Soni
Shanaya Tales
Flightless Bird Thoughtful Wings by Swathi Shenoy
A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose by Shilpa Garg







Friday, April 24, 2015

Book Review :: 'The Mystery of The Missing Iguana' by Ruchira Khanna

Book Review part The Book Club Blog Tour 
USP:  2-8 years will love it.
Publisher: Lekha Publisher

Blurb
Alex and his pet chimpanzee Angelo are the young detectives of their neighborhood. When a friend's pet Iguana goes missing, Alex and Angelo immediately take on the case, and the sneaky reptilian leads them on an exciting chase. How will alex and Angelo use their sleuthing skills to solve this mystery?

My Review
The Mystery of the Missing Iguana is an illustrated book for kids, parents can read out to the kids or older kids can read themselves. The story is about a little boy Alex and his pet Angelo, and how they solve mysterious happening in their neighborhood or school.

Writing stories for the age bracket of 2 – 8 years is tricky because one has to keep the story and language simple, at the same time it should be engaging, since their attention span is very short. Ruchira Khanna has done a commendable job with ‘The Mystery of the Missing Iguana’. She has managed to keep the story to the point and has included engaging elements like a pet and school, which the kids can relate with easily.

The illustrations are apt and colourful and I am sure the book would be a treat for any kid and something to cherish.

Tranquil Turquoise

#AtoZChallenge – Flash fiction based on life’s philosophy or mood or emotions, interpreted using colours.


He took the last step up the valley and reached the cottage where he was told the artist lived. Oblivious to the breeze caressing the pine trees, the sun shrouding the valley in orange-gold hue, his eyes searched for her and only her. But the finished and semi-finished sculptures­ lined on the paved path distracted him—reminding him of the workshop back home, the  shared moments. He traced a finger on one of the figurines' curves, her inner struggle apparent in the artefact.

To his surprise it was made of plaster-of-paris instead of porcelain. Had she begun to create with the new material? It would be hard since plaster-of-paris dried faster, but she could do it. She was the best, he knew, before anyone else did.

A faint rustling noise guided him to the back of the cottage and there she was—working on the wheel, the mud clinging lovingly to her arms, guided expertly by her skilled hands. Her face, calm and serene like a tranquil lake, but soul was an artist’s—moody, temperamental. A stray lock of hair clung doggedly to her sweating cheek despite her repeated attempts to pull it aside with her shoulder. He took a step closer, yearning to take her into his arms, to push aside that errant curl of hair disturbing her concentration. Something smashed near his foot, startled she looked up. The unfinished raw piece crumbled as her arms fell sideways.

Her heart had leapt in her throat and she could just stare at him. How did he find her? Was the distance she had kept between them not big enough? Why did he seek her out now, after so many years? She wanted to throw her arms around him and cry her suffering out. Misery due to the separation she herself had brought on them. He had aged a bit in the past five years. They both had. The fine lines around his eyes had added depth to his personality.

“Why?” His whispered anguish was in rhythm with her own torment.

“I didn’t want you to choose between the two of us.”

“You had always been impatient. You both could have co-existed.”

“It wouldn’t have been good for all of us.”

“Were these five years good for you?”

She silently watched the mud drying on her hands and couldn’t control trembling of her lips. A tear fell down on her hands in silent acceptance of her decision being wrong. Five years wasted.

He stepped forward and put the familiar turquoise ring on her finger. “This would bring you peace you crave.”

“I need only you.” She slipped her hand around his neck and sealed her promise.
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Check out more A-to-Zers at:
Flaming Sun by Sundari Venkatraman
Devika Fernando Blog
Bewitched By Words by Aathira Jim
Njkinnys World by Nikita Soni
Shanaya Tales
Flightless Bird Thoughtful Wings by Swathi Shenoy
A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose by Shilpa Garg







Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Scarlet Woman

#AtoZChallenge – Flash fiction based on life’s philosophy or mood or emotions, interpreted using colours. 

“Come on darling you know it is not true, you are the only one I admire and rely on!” She put one red painted finger on his sleeve and trailed it down, fluttering her false eyelashes. “After my husband died, you are my only support in this whole wide world, my Jugnoo!” She smiled and raised his glass to his lips, Jignesh visibly puffed up and took a sip. “As soon as I pay off that miser Krishnakant, I’ll be yours.”

“Miser? He is a first class scrooge!”

“Oh yes, I had borrowed fifty thousand from him and now he is after my, you know! I don’t know how to get rid of him. I am sure you would never hassle me for a paltry amount like that!” She leaned, her breast brushed his arm fleetingly—a gesture both innocent and suggestive, he shuddered.
“Of course not!”

Cheapskate!’ She stifled a grimace when he made no move to offer the money. “It’s not as if I wouldn’t return, I would return it with interest. But right now I don’t have anything!” She pouted, wrapping and unwrapping her sari palloo on her fingers.

“Er… I can give you one lakh.”

“Will you? Oh my! What would I do without you?” She kissed his cheek, pressing her chest to his shoulder, he blushed red and handed the money from his briefcase. After a couple of drinks he took her leave.

“I’ll come tomorrow.”

“No darling not tomorrow… I have to go to the beauty saloon to look good for you. Is day after tomorrow fine with you?”
* * *

The next day…

“Oh my darling, Jignesh was again asking me to spend time with him! He even offered me one lakh rupees! What shall I do, dearest Krish?”She batted her long fake eyelashes and handed him ‘scotch on the rocks’, from the liquor collection an Amy officer had showered on her.

“Did he now?” Krishnakanth Sahay frowned at the daring of his friend. “How could he even think of you like this when he has a teenaged daughter at home? Shame on him! If you need money, just let me know. I have two lakhs with me, right this moment.”

Averting her face on the pretext of offering him the appetizers she smiled…

The game was always on!
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Check out more A-to-Zers at:
Flaming Sun by Sundari Venkatraman
Devika Fernando Blog
Bewitched By Words by Aathira Jim
Njkinnys World by Nikita Soni
Shanaya Tales
Flightless Bird Thoughtful Wings by Swathi Shenoy
A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose by Shilpa Garg







Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Red Realization

#AtoZChallenge – Flash fiction based on life’s philosophy or mood or emotions, interpreted using colours.

Read 
Part 1: Dandelion Meets Denim
Part 2: Olive Branch
Part 3: Pink Infatuation
Part 4: Quartz Shocker
Onto the last part Red Realization

“Sanaa, it is irritating.”

Unmindful of her sister’s annoyance, Sanaa sprawled on the living room couch kept changing the channels of the TV, staring blankly.

“Sanaa, what’s wrong with you?” Smita snatched the remote control from her hand.

“She is in love.” Smiling, her younger sister Sneha threw the spoke in the wheel.

-
-

The short story is now part of the collection 'Heart & Hots' on Amazon.

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Check out more A-to-Zers at:
Flaming Sun by Sundari Venkatraman
Devika Fernando Blog
Bewitched By Words by Aathira Jim
Njkinnys World by Nikita Soni
Shanaya Tales
Flightless Bird Thoughtful Wings by Swathi Shenoy
A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose by Shilpa Garg







Cover Reveal 'Love Again'




Cover Reveal



Love Again 

by 

Shrruti Patole Clarence & Sumeetha Manikandan

A Double Header Novel





Blurb 




Love, Again is a double header novel published by Half Baked Beans andFablery with two novellas - A Tulip in the Desert by Shrruti Patole Clarence and These Lines of Mehendi by Sumeetha Manikandan.



TULIP IN THE DESERT
SHRRUTI PATOLE CLARENCE

A historian in making, Charmaine has settled down in Amsterdam after her father migrated from India when she was very young. Life was picturesque until the final year of Graduation when she elected to specialize in Egyptology. Thereafter from the time she read the book about Cleopatra, revelation after revelation turns her world into a tornado!



Raj, another aspiring Historian, walks into her college and her life like a whirlwind. A simpleton from Delhi, Raj too finds mysteries unfolding before him from the time he enters the college library right through to their educational tour to Egypt.A series of events throws them together at every step of their college life despite Charmaine wanting to maintain a distance from ‘this’ natural charmer.



A twist of fate puts Raj and Charmaine in the most unthinkable situation that finally links back to their ‘revelations’. Raj must face a choice again…A choice of history over his love… or does he have the mettle to change history and create his own?



THESE LINES OF MEHENDI
SUMEETHA MANIKANDAN

Beautiful and efficient Lalitha loved to deck up brides for their wedding, though her own marriage was in shambles. When her estranged husband suddenly commits suicide she realizes that things wouldn’t be the same again…



Shrikanth thought that he was a confirmed bachelor but when his mother refused to get herself treated for cancer unless he got married, he had to get a bride in a hurry.She needed a husband in name, to save her career while he needed to marry to please his mother. Will they find love second time around? Will they lower their shields and succumb to a mutual passion?


About 

The Authors


Shrruti Patole Clarence



Shrruti has been a voracious reader since early years and took to composing poems when she was very young. She has worked as an Aviation Manager for over ten years with various airlines, she has been on a sabbatical for her two son's aged six and one year respectively. She enjoys this welcome break from career, to be able to pursue her passion, writing!

She has to her credit six short stories featuring in different Anthologies; a Hindi poem featuring in Tumbhi’s contest Ehsaas judged by the famous screenwriter Javed Siddiqui.Shrruti is a warm and friendly person who loves music and watching sports when she is not writing.



Stalk her @
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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 best selling ebook on the top 50 charts of Amazon India ever since its publication in 2013. 

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.



Stalk her @


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