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Tag: romance

Worlds apart but together with love

Posted on by sanjeeta

‘We are full of stories’, writes Ravinder Singh as he opens up his collection of love stories from vastly different lives. Stories create empathy, they open up the seams of our capacity for wonder and compassion, and broaden our understanding of the vagaries of human lives. In You Are All I Need, twenty-five authors share their stories and their worlds with us. Today, we bring you a few of those:

 

‘Something in the Rain’ by Kaustubhi Singh

I take a little walk in my cubicle for one last time because I’ll be given a clearance today. I sit on the brown wooden chair I used to kick when I was so miserable that the doctors had to tie my hands up. Alcohol was my escape. The idea of alcohol was not pleasure but an escape, because when that warm liquor burns your throat, it starts dissolving the hurt stuck down there and slowly numbs you so you don’t feel the hurt. Heartbreak isn’t beautiful; it isn’t some literature; it’s not listening to sad songs or something like that. It’s feeling okay for a minute and then starting to feel their ghost around you, their touch on your skin. You miss them, you miss them so much that you choke on your memories with them.

Dr Mayank Sharma, my shrink, almost my age, tells me that it will always hurt, and it will make one cry and scream till one’s nose is blocked and eyes puffy; that hurt is inevitable but it will hurt less, and I will see and understand why someone did what they did. And I think I understand. When I look back to the day Robbie left me for another woman, he said he had grown out of love and I stood there thinking: Where did I go wrong? But thinking about it now makes me realize I did everything to truly belong to Robbie. I changed myself for him, I changed my ways and choices for him when I should have let him love me for who I was, because that’s what love is, that’s what love is supposed to be—loving someone for who they are.

 

‘A Tender Ray of Love’ by Nandita Warrier

She was six; he was eight. He found her irritating and called her a ‘complaint box’; she found him obnoxious and called him a ‘monster’. They fought in every get-together.

…She was twelve; he was fourteen. He secretly detested her scholarly attitude; she was swept by his charm and wrote about him in her secret diary.

…She was eighteen; he was twenty. She aspired to be a doctor; he was determined to be one of the ‘Men in Blue’.

Their paths were growing apart, just like their personalities. They rarely met, and when they did, she was more awkward than before. He didn’t seem interested in her and she was torn whether or not to share her feelings with him.

And then something happened. He did something terrible—unforgivable! She had held him in such high regard all along, loved him with all her heart, but he had treated her like trash. She was shattered.

…She was twenty-seven; he was twenty-nine. She was a bright, young surgeon winning people over; he was a lost and bitter soul, spewing venom at everyone.

She was twenty-eight; he was thirty. She was full of dreams; he was broken.

Front cover of You Are All I Need
You Are All I Need||Ravinder Singh

That night, she slept early because she had a morning duty in the ICU. That night, he slept late after emptying a bottle of sleeping pills.

Just as Ramya reached the hospital, she was summoned to the OT for an emergency procedure. ‘Suicide attempt,’ someone whispered. Dr Iyer was instructing the team when Ramya joined them in her OT scrubs. She threw a casual look at the patient and immediately recoiled. It was Rohan! Oh no, how could this be? Memories from her childhood, locked away in some corner, defiantly barged in, making her want to sob.

He looked so pale and pitiable—a mere shadow of the handsome young man she remembered from their last meeting years back! Rohan had had everything going for him—what could have possibly gone so wrong? Sensing her discomfort, Dr Iyer enquired, ‘You know him?’

‘Family friend,’ she uttered nonchalantly, hiding the wave of sadness sweeping over her.

 

‘Love in the Times of Marriage’ by Aparajita Shishoo

When Adil saw her across the room, his heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t take his eyes off Meera’s radiant face. He decided to walk up to her.

‘Hi,’ Adil said.

Meera was standing alone, enjoying the party her friend, Kanika, had thrown. Meera turned to look at Adil and smiled back at him with a soft ‘hi’.

Adil continued, ‘You seem to be the arty-farty type. What are you doing at a filmy party?’

Meera was a bit tipsy by that time, so she retorted, ‘I am definitely farty, but with some arty. What about you?’

Adil laughed out loud at her candour and asked her again what she was doing at such a party.

‘I am fishing for some juicy stories for my publication. You?’

‘I am trying to make some juicy stories!’ Adil winked at Meera.

Meera laughed and asked, ‘Are you flirting with me?’ ‘Are you noticing?’ Adil said.
Meera shot back, ‘I am ignoring . . . I don’t flirt with boys who have just entered puberty.’
‘Oh! That hurt . . . really hurt!’ Adil said, imitating a heartbreak. ‘By the way, I am twenty-five, well beyond my puberty years.’

Meera laughed again at Adil’s dramatics, and they continued their conversation.

Adil was a cinematographer in the Hindi film industry and the camera was his first love, but right now his own lenses were fixed on Meera’s face. ‘So what brings you to Mumbai?’

‘Change,’ said Meera, after a pause.

…At the other end of the room, Kanika noticed the chemistry between the two and was happy that her friend was finally enjoying flirting and chatting up guys.

 

Lose yourself in stories that will stay with you for a long, long time. 

Will love find a way?

Posted on by vanyajaiswal

Right from childhood, Sahil and Ayra have been very different from each other. While Sahil is careless, carefree, ‘new money’ and ‘the brat’, Ayra is sensitive, reserved, shy and not easy to talk to. And that is probably what attracts Sahil to her. Their story progresses slowly and delicately, and things gradually take on a love-tinged hue.

Find an excerpt below that gives a glimpse into how Sahil and Ayra’s relationship blooms.

**

The earthy smell of damp soil filled the void between us. Semi-drenched, we took shelter in the nearest shop and I gave her the scarlet silk scarf that I had bought from the store earlier that evening—my first ever present to her. ‘Happy birthday!’ I wished her again as she placed the scarf around her neck. It complimented her skin and she looked lovely. Yes, I did curse myself for not being able to give her the pair of earrings, which were waiting for us at the restaurant but this was no way less. Like us, many other people pushed themselves under a tiny shelter and so she had to come closer to me. We spoke in whispers and marvelled at the rain. as the rain clouds started to disperse, people moved away and so did she. after around half an hour later, the rain finally stopped. It was time for us to part ways as I had to go to attend college the next day in another city and she had to get back home in time because that evening she was to be home alone. I offered to arrange a ride for her to go back home but she preferred to take an uber instead after she dropped me at the airport.

‘I hope I didn’t hurt you,’ she revisited the topic one last time as we were about to say goodbye to each other at the airport. There were so many people around going in and out of the place. I didn’t want to go in; I wanted to talk to her all night that night but I knew that we both had to go. It was getting dark already and a sudden worry around her safety crept into my head.

‘No!’ I said shaking my head. I was amazed that she felt the way she did because if someone had to be sorry it had to be me. Meeting her that day and then going away made me realize that I did not want to go back. all this was so new to me—the meeting and the parting all happening at such short notice. I wanted to know her more and ask her everything that she had to tell me. I knew that it was all so sudden and also kind of rushed. But you cannot control your feelings—I felt embarrassed by my feelings despite being aware that they were as genuine as they can be. She had touched my heart with her genuineness and I smiled at her to tell her that it was all good—nothing that she ever said could have hurt me.

To You, With Love || Shravya Bhinder

She gave me a warm smile in return and moved her tongue over her lips while she framed her thoughts into a sentence. In a grave, low voice—the kind that one uses with kids to make them understand very important matters of life—she told me, ‘Sometimes I feel that intelligent people are so full of doubts nowadays while fools are full of themselves and overly confident. If intelligent people do not follow their dreams and only fools do, the world will be a circus for the next generation. Think about it.’ With these words, she gently kissed my right cheek making me the happiest man at the airport at that time and murmured a soft goodbye. She walked away not looking back at me even once as I stood there almost melting under the cold breeze.

She was broken but pure magic. Her understanding of things made life so much simpler. Her presence was what I had been looking for in my life and by then I knew that as well.

When I reached home that night, I decided to work on my book as soon as I was done with the assignment from college. I will have to accept that I did struggle a lot trying to brush aside the memories of the gentle goodbye kiss, which took me by surprise. It was all happening very quickly and I wondered if I was living in some parallel universe. She was too good to be true and we had known each other for only a few weeks, yet it felt as if we had known one another for decades, and if you look at it, we really did. Her entry in my life made something click, like when a key clicks inside a lock and you know that you have found the right one.

**

A beautiful story about how true love triumphs over all odds that life throws its way, To You, With Love is sure to tug at your heartstrings.

The Night Sparkled and So Did All of Us

Posted on by Penguin India

Memory of Light is a tender romance of two young courtesans in Nawabi-era Lucknow. The entire novel unfolds through the narrator, Nafis Bai’s memory of events, lending it her unique voice, which stays with the reader.

Intrigued? Read an excerpt from the book below:

Late at night before the big occasion, I tried the outfit on her; the fabrics I had chosen kissed her skin, her skin not washed-out white like the English ladies’ but kanak kamini, warm as wheat, as gold.

‘Like lightning flashing in the summer sky,’ I said, as I tied the silver drawstring with its pearl pendants, gleaming through the pale blue swirl of the peshwaz and dangling below its hem.

While I dressed her she undressed me, discarding the purple I had selected for myself.

‘Purple doesn’t suit you,’ she said. ‘Parrot-green blossoms on you. Wear this green one with—let’s see.’ She threw her red orhni over me. ‘There—it’s like a flame on you.’

Until then purple had been my favourite colour. I’ve never worn it with pleasure since.

The night sparkled and so did all of us, lit by the sheen of youth. Even I felt beautiful when her eyes touched me. The whole town seemed to be there, troops of merchants with tributes for the English, foreigners with heavily powdered hair, and every dancer worth the name. Bands were playing foreign instruments, organs bellowed and fireworks fizzed above. A group of hijras performed and then Ratan. I looked up from a dark corner where I was adjusting Chapla’s shoes with their long curling toes, to see Sharad framed in a lighted doorway, chest half-visible through lacy white embroidery—a flowering tree covered with leaves and buds. His hair was abundant in those days, long curls almost out of control, and his eyes were on Ratan.

Mir Insha was in his element—flitting from group to group, alight with laughter. ‘Even the buds are proffering their glasses,’ he whispered to me, as champagne bubbled up in crystal for a fat European lady and her young daughter. ‘Look, flowers and bunches, all are imbibing.’ I giggled; the lady’s dress, billowing stiffly round her, did make her look a bit like a bunch of large showy flowers, the kind that the white people favour.

Then he whispered to Chapla:

Chaar naachaar hu’a jaana hi Landan apna
Le ga’i chheen ke dil ek firangan apna

No choice, I have to go to London now
A foreign woman has snatched away my heart

At this, both of us burst out laughing and Ammi threw us a reproachful glance.

He brought it all to life again in his poem—glasses, bottles, free-flowing liquor, lights in the trees, delicacies laid out on tables. He ignored Azizan resplendent in magenta and gold, and devoted his attention to Chapla, doing justice to my handiwork:

With a silken drawstring flowing like water,
Satin trousers blooming like foliage,
A light blue silk peshwaz like a cloud,
Its skirt edged with silver like a moonflower,
A veil of moon and stars like a moonlit night,
Anklets tinkling like drops of rain,
Chapla Bai stood up to dance.
Seeing her, Khutan gazelles forget to leap
Nature made her replete with beauty
From her face the Pleiades borrow radiance
The envy of fairies, she’s called ‘Lightning’
Light’s world turns dark when she departs . . .
Who can praise the breasts of that infidel idol?
Oh lord, their curves and that rising youth—
Half-blossomed lotuses, two fine founts,
They shine like round swelling whirlpools
Or like chakva and chakvi sitting on two shores,
The string of pearls between is Jamuna . . .
That ring-watch blooming with delicacy
I’d sacrifice to it hundreds of sounding organs . . .
Her plait like the shade of a kadamb tree . . .

What an eye he had for detail—the verse I liked best described how her red heels made the white beads on her pearlescent white silk shoes reddish like ratti, those poisonous seeds used to weigh gold, or like red champa flowers with their creamy insides:

Those two arms boughs of the tree of Paradise—
Obtain from them what your heart desires

Her forearms male and female skinks
The sight of them drives men and women wild . . .
Those red heels make the pearls on her shoes
Look like red ratti seeds or champa flowers
. . . Today’s the fourth day of the month of June
This happy day shines with special beauty

To know what happens next, check out Memory of Light. 

The Star of India – An Excerpt

Posted on by Penguin India

From the glitz of Hollywood to the lush chambers of Indian royalty, The Star of India weaves a spirited tale of a strong-willed woman whose fate was deeply entwined with the momentous birth of modern India.

Read an excerpt from the book below:

 

–

 

But this weekend, it would be just us.

It was low tide. I ran down to the water, planted my legs and felt the icy surf rush over my feet. Sporty rolled up his trousers and followed, capturing me in his arms.

As we walked along the hard-packed sand, he told   me of a boyhood passed in two worlds, the traditional one where he was a demi-god to his people and the modern one where he studied at Cambridge and lived with a freedom he could not know at home.

‘You’re cast in two different roles—but in real life.

Does it feel confusing?’

His pace slowed. ‘I do need to change hats frequently.’ ‘Or turbans? Handsome, I’ll bet,’ I flirted, thinking how dashing he’d look in royal attire. A piece of dark red sea glass caught my eye. I picked it up and presented it  to

him with my head bowed. ‘Tribute, Your Highness.’

He studied the piece, rubbing his finger over its edges, holding it up to the light.

I was embarrassed. ‘It’s nothing really.’

‘Ah, but this is a jewel from the heart.’ The smile that had flickered across his face faded. ‘After a while, when one is surrounded by so much treasure, these things become commonplace.’ The smile returned. ‘Like pebbles on a beach.’ I glanced at the shoreline, trying to imagine such a life.

Such wealth.

‘I will tell you the story of another gift,’ he said. ‘An ancient ruby, red as blood. It was brought to India by the Central Asian Mughal invaders and passed from father to son as a symbol of their rulership. You may know the name Shah Jahan?’

‘He built the Taj Mahal! For his wife who died in childbirth.’ That I remembered from my research in the library.

‘Before her death, Mumtaz gave him four sons. To prevent their eventual power struggle, Shah Jahan had the Mughal Ruby set in a special ornament, which he alone would place on the turban of his chosen successor. He would, in effect, maintain control of the “crown.”’

I paused, the surf numbing my feet, my ankles.

‘But this was not to be. After all, Shah Jahan had rebelled against his own father. And so it was with his sons, for the most ambitious was his least favourite; he was disrespectful and close-minded. To prevent the ruby from falling into his hands, the emperor bestowed it on a raja of Bengal who had saved his life in battle—the King of Koch, my ancestor. But with the gift came a prophecy: If ever he or his descendants ever lost control of this precious jewel, our family would fall.’ We set off, walking up the beach.

The curse Tony had mentioned. ‘How terrible. Don’t you worry about thieves?’

‘Not really. The ornament is kept with our everyday jewels inside a palace vault, protected by a high official. I wear it on ceremonial occasions.’

Everyday jewels.  ‘I  never  read  about  any  of  that in

National  Geographic.’

‘And you never will. Even our curses remain a secret,’ he said with a twinkle.

‘My lips are sealed.’

Sporty gave me a searing look. ‘I hope not.’

I leaned down and splashed him. ‘You said you’d never known a woman with a real job. But your mother ruled when you were young. Sounds like she had a job, too.’

He tipped his head. ‘Ma was an astute ruler, strong- minded and protective of our people. They revere her, love her.’

‘What does she do now?’

‘Ma is not shy about giving me advice.’ He grinned. ‘She travels quite a bit—friends all over Europe. She leads a different kind of life there. Freer. She is a fascinating woman with a keen intelligence and great style. I want you to meet her.’

‘I’d like to.’ His mother had telephoned his Beverly Hills Hotel bungalow from Paris a few times, and I’d heard them talk about political events back home.

‘When your film is over, we will fly to New York and you can show me around. Then I can show you Paris. How does that sound?’

Boris had hinted Sporty planned to invite me to India, but this was the first mention of travel plans. Giddy with fear and hope, I inhaled the sharp salty smell, gazing down at a ruffle of white foam. When I looked up, the sun had appeared behind his face. For an instant, I couldn’t see his features, only his golden aura. ‘I’ll check my datebook.’ I tried to be nonchalant.

Does Amal Love Qais?- An Excerpt from ‘The World Between Us’

Posted on by Penguin India

When Amal finds out that her disastrous Tinder match is now going to be her boss, she can’t be more annoyed. Qais Ahmed is everything she never wants to be: narcissistic, manipulative and arrogant.
However, despite her relentless efforts, she is unable to resist his charm and wit and is drawn to him once she gets to know the real him.
She soon discovers that he isn’t just a part of her professional life but has a deep connection to a past she is trying to forget.
Will this disturbing secret tear them apart or bind them together forever?

Read an excerpt from The World Between Us below:

‘Looking for me?’ I asked from behind her.
She spun around and looked at me. ‘Qais!’
‘Hi,’ I said, smiling at her.
She quickly came up to me. ‘Where were you yesterday? Why didn’t you come to work? Do you know how worried I was?’ I was silent all through her grand inquisition and just stood looking at her, admiring her.
‘You went home that day without a word to me and then yesterday you didn’t show up at all. You could have at least informed me. You got me so worried, you’ve no idea!’ I could hear the panic in her voice. ‘Qais . . . are you even listening to me? Tell me, what happened to you yesterday? Were you all right? Is everything okay?’
When I remained silent, she asked again, ‘Qais, what’s wrong? Talk to me!’
Gathering myself, I reached for her hands, my eyes downcast. ‘Were you really worried about me?’ I asked, my voice low.
‘Of course, I was!’ she exclaimed in a low voice to match mine.
‘Why?’ I asked, looking into her eyes.
‘What?’ she whispered, frowning.
‘Why were you worried about me, Amal?’ I asked, tightening my grip on her hands and drawing her closer.
‘Qais . . .’ she whispered breathlessly as the space between us reduced.
‘Would you get worried if something were to happen to me?’ I asked, looking deep into her eyes. She looked back at me but stayed silent. ‘Would you miss me if I died?’
‘Qais!’ She put her finger on my lip. ‘Please don’t say that.’ Her eyes welled.
‘Tell me, would you care if I died?’ I continued.
‘Please . . . stop saying that,’ she said as a tear rolled down her cheek, her finger trembling over my lips.
Taking advantage of her emotional vulnerability, I kissed her finger. She gasped and looked at me wide-eyed.
‘Qais . . .’ she whispered, shocked, taking a step back.
‘I know you care . . . I know you do . . .’ I said, reaching for her hand.
She withdrew her hand from mine and wiped her cheek. ‘What . . . what are you saying?’ she sniffed,
turning away.
‘Just answer my question. Do you care for me?’
‘Of course, I do. So what?’ she asked, turning back to look at me.
I smiled. ‘That means only one thing, Amal. You’re in love with me.’

Is Amal in love with Qais? Read The World Between Us to find out!

Happy Valentines Day from Your First Love, Books!

Posted on by Penguin India

This Valentine’s Day, love thy neighbour, love thy friend, love this world, because love knows no end.

The day to celebrate love is here, and what better way than to combine your love for books and reading with lines of love from the best writers on the subject?

Here, we bring to you some of the best-loved quotes from some of our best-loved authors. Featuring quotes from new releases – such as The World Between Us by Sara Naveed, Calligraphies of Love by Hassan Massoudy, Dearest George by Alicia Souza, With Love as well as The Little Book of Everything by Ruskin Bond – as well as older books, we’re sure you’ll feel the magic of the day.

The World Between Us by Sara Naveed

‘I was madly, passionately and irrevocably in love with her, and I was ready to do anything to stay close to her.’

Calligraphies of Love by Hassan Massoudy

‘Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would
it be possessed;

For love is sufficient unto love.’

Kahlil Gibran (1883–1931) 

Dearest George by Alicia Souza

With Love: A Collection of Letters by Terribly Tiny Tales

‘You sent me a rose for every year we had been together, then asked me to marry you again. It’s annoying how you always one-up me every Valentine’s.’ – To Whoever Reads This by Shruti

The Little Book of Everything by Ruskin Bond

‘No words heal better than the silent company of a friend.’

Love Like That and Other Stories

‘That kiss changed everything for me; it brought about some sort of a chemical, biological change, and I knew I could never be the same person again. The gentle winter breeze changed me, making me forget the girl that I had been, and the kinship that I felt for Rahul, borne out of a constant companionship, had transformed in a matter of mere seconds into love.’ – Thirty Days to Live by Ira Trivedi

Can Love Happen Twice by Ravinder Singh

‘Love, like life, is so insecure. It moves in our lives and occupies its sweet space in our hearts so easily. But it never guarantees that it will stay there forever. Probably that’s why it is so precious.’

I Too Had a Love Story by Ravinder Singh

‘On my computer screen

Gazing at her picture

I found myself falling with the rising heights

Falling in Love with her

Couldn’t resist saying—I love you

The madness added

When the picture said it too’

Love Among the Bookshelves by Ruskin Bond

‘I hereby confess that I am in love with books, and bookshelves are good places to keep them, if not hide them.’

World’s Best Boyfriend by Durjoy Datta

‘That’s the cliché about love. You don’t choose it. It chooses you.’

The Boy Who Loved by Durjoy Datta

‘Unlike then, now we know time’s running out so we don’t hold back on words. We tell each other we love each other more freely, without feeling shy, we hold each other’s hand more tightly, we clutch each other with more authority, exercise more control over each other.’

The Boy with a Broken Heart by Durjoy Datta

‘”You have what no one else did in the family,” I heard Manish Chachu say. “You had the courage to love and be with the person you loved. We are all cowards but not you.”‘

Will You Still Love Me by Ravinder Singh

‘Love will happen again. You have to be open to it. In our times, love followed arranged marriages.’

Love Will Find a Way by Anurag Garg

‘There was confidence in her voice. “I love appreciation. It helps me connect to the source of a person, sometimes even their heart. Like they say, beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, so I love to connect with the beholder’s eyes, not the beauty—the source rather than the observation.”‘

The Girl Who Knew Too Much by Vikrant Khanna

‘I always thought love was a game. You got to win it. But love is not a game. Love is sacrifice. Love is letting go. And above all, love is dreaming the impossible, like bringing back a dead man.’

Ninety-Seven Poems

‘And that’s when I learnt that we have types of love.

There’s an
I love pink, I love dogs, I love fries type of love.

An I love books, I love coffee,
I love smiles type of love.

There’s an ‘I love this song’ type of love.
There’s an ‘I’d really love to kill you’ type of love.

And then . . . there’s the different type of love.’

-a different type of love by Jenai Dalal

Half-torn Hearts by Novoneel Chakraborty

‘Rare men give the rarest kind of pain and the rarest kind of pleasure. When you love a rare man like that you are proud to be a woman in a way that is also rare.’

Wish I Could Tell You by Durjoy Datta

‘Karishma said, “I really loved him at one point. I really, really loved him. Sometimes when I look back and think how devoted I was to him, I feel surprised. We are capable of so much more love when we are younger.“‘

She Friend-Zoned My Love by Sudeep Nagarkar

‘Sometimes we expect a lot from others because we are willing to do that much for them.’

The Secrets We Kept by Sudeep Nagarkar

‘Love can make a person do things he would never have contemplated doing before. A boy who couldn’t write an essay for an English examination was writing an apology letter to woo his beloved.’

Love Knows no LOC by Arpit Vageria

‘You showed me that there’s beauty even in the darkness as long as there’s someone who truly loves me. I’m glad to have you in my life. Mere words cannot express how much I love you.’

Something I Never Told You by Shravya Bhinder

‘All I can say to you is that just because of something which happened in the past, do not stop believing in love, do not stop looking for love, do not stop loving . . .’

House of Stars by Keya Ghosh

‘My father keeps telling me that I am too young to even understand what love is. I keep telling him that Romeo was sixteen and Juliet was fourteen. I think grown- ups forget what they were like at our age. They don’t remember that they knew love.’

In My Heart by Nandana Dev Sen

‘“After I came out of your hearts,
did your hearts become small again?”

“No,” said Papa. “When you come out of someone’s heart, a part of you always stays in it, making it even bigger.”‘

Across the Line by Nayanika Mahtani

‘A dull ache throbbed in her heart. A yearning for something that should have been hers to hold and love but which she now knew was not to be. All she felt was an emptiness. A clawing, hollow emptiness. And then, everything went dark.’

Which one will you be picking up this Valentines Day?

What Really is ‘Happily Ever After’?

Posted on by Penguin India

Sanam is a carefree, but headstrong young girl. A spat with a politician’s son pushes her to take up the challenge of becoming an IAS. At the same time, a small-town boy, Aamir, is nudged into studying for the civil services too. Both become rank holders.

They meet at the IAS Training Academy, Mussoorie. They fall in love and all hell breaks loose. Their religious differences come to the fore, things take a dangerous turn and there is an explosion on social media.

Meet the ambitious Sanam in an excerpt from the book below!

Life has a way of changing things around you with blinding speed, and in a way that you have little choice but to adapt to your new circumstances. Even a smiling sunflower basking in happiness could be dragged under the harshest spotlight the very next instance and whacked to answer questions that burn its yellow tongue. Our Sanam became one such bakra.

Not that you would’ve ever thought that possible, seeing the level of comfort and confidence with which she rode.

Two ‘Best Student’ trophies took pride of place on her desk—the one that had been awarded the previous day at college dwarfed the one presented at school four years ago, in sheer size. A figurine of the Laughing Buddha in onyx reclined next to them, guaranteeing both luck and prosperity.

The biggest challenge for Sanam today was to airbrush her Europe trip itinerary in such a way that she could squeeze out the maximum from this much-awaited time out to spend with her friends.

Two days in Lucerne . . . or just a day trip to Jungfrau, with an extra evening in Innsbruck? Sanam shakes her head. There are no easy answers in life!

But wait! Wasn’t there someone whose biggest preoccupation in life was to make the tough easy for her!

‘Dad!’

Sanam sallies forth to seek the one person who with his magic wand could iron out every crease and wrinkle in her way.

‘Dad!’ she calls out. The television news blared louder than her . . . her call drowning in the reporter’s excited outpouring:

‘Eight people have died as thousands of Dalits took to streets across India, protesting a Supreme Court order that, according to them, undermines a law designed to protect lower-caste and backward communities. Train services have been severely affected and main roads are blocked in a number of states . . .’

Grabbing the remote of the gigantic electronic screen that held her dad spellbound, Sanam reduces the volume.

Two pairs of eyes and ears swivel towards her immediately.

 

A heady mix of dreams and desire, Trending in Love is a story of undying love in the face of our society’s most dangerous beliefs. Are you all set to meet the couple?

 

7 Lines that Prove that True Love Never Dies

Posted on by Penguin India

In Find Me, Aciman shows us Elio’s father, Samuel, on a trip from Florence to Rome to visit Elio, now a gifted classical pianist. A chance encounter on the train upends Sami’s visit and changes his life forever.
Elio soon moves to Paris, where he, too, has a consequential affair, while Oliver, a New England college professor with a family, suddenly finds himself contemplating a return trip across the Atlantic.

Find Me brings us back inside the world of one of our greatest contemporary romances to show us that in fact true love never dies.

Read a few beautiful lines from the book:

 

I’m listening.
And you know, you do know I’ve been floundering all these years.
I know. But so have I.
What lovely music you used to play for me.
I wanted to.
So you haven’t forgotten.
Of course I haven’t

*

We’re still the same, we haven’t drifted. This is how he always spoke to me in such moments, We’re still the same, we haven’t drifted —with a jeering languor inflecting each of his features…I try to remind him each time that he has no reason to forgive me. But he utters an impish laugh…

*

She reminded me of someone who storms into your life…only to remind you, once she’s added flowers to a vase that’s been standing empty for ever so long that, in case you were still struggling to downplay her presence, you wouldn’t dare ask for more than a week, a day, an hour of this. How close had I come to someone so real, I thought.

*

“I don’t want to stop knowing you. So there’s the long and the short of it.”

*

“Everything I have is yours. Not much, I know,” she said.

*

“But you didn’t know you’d meet me.”
“A meaningless detail. Fate works forward, backward, and crisscrosses sideways and couldn’t care less how we scan its purposes with our rickety little befores and afters.”

*

You fool, it takes two of them to make one of me. I can be a man and woman, or both, because you’ve been both to me. Find me, Oliver. Find me.

 

Fans of Call Me By Your Name, it’s time to get excited for Find Me, Aciman’s newest novel that revisits the world of one of our greatest contemporary romances.

Meet Munir Khan and Mohini Singh from ‘A Delhi Obsession’

Posted on by Penguin India

Two-time Giller Prize winner M.G. Vassanji returns with a powerful new novel, A Delhi Obsession about grief and second chances, tradition and rebellion, set in vibrant present-day Delhi.

Munir Khan, a recent widower from Toronto, meets the charming and witty Mohini Singh, a married liberal newspaper columnist, and what follows is a passionate love affair–uncontrollable yet impossible.

Read on to meet these two characters.

 

Munir Khan

Munir Khan was a puzzle. Such a floater. Without an anchor. But likeable… perhaps because of that?

Munir is a westernized agnostic of Muslim origin. He was born in Kenya and now, lives in Toronto. But he actually is an Indian (in a sort of way) who in reality, is ignorant about India. He lost his wife of many years in a car accident. A ‘mediocre’ writer by profession who had seen literary fame, he also has a daughter named Razia. He believes in a simple philosophy of living, in right and in wrong and respects all faiths. He likes history and enjoys finding out about the past. On a whim, to restore his family connections, he decides to visit India where he ends up meeting Mohini.

~

Mohini Singh

Smart, witty and liberal, that was her style.

Mohini is a modern Hindu woman. Utterly attractive and charming, she’s traditional and religious, but also a provocative newspaper columnist. She writes a weekly column for the daily paper the Express Times and teaches a course in English at a college twice a week. Her family were refugees from Sargodha, which became a part of Pakistan after the Partition. She had married early and has two daughters. She believes in prayer and turns to God for guidance. She usually look stunning in a saree and has a twinkle in her eye.

~

These two are from different worlds. To know more about them and their story, grab your copy of A Delhi Obsession today.

6 Very Delhi Things You Find in ‘A Delhi Obsession’

Posted on by Penguin India

Set in contemporary times and effectively M.G. Vassanji’s most urgent novel yet, A Delhi Obsession follows the inexplicable attraction between recent widower Munir Khan and Mohini Singh, a married liberal newspaper columnist. Delhi’s streets, monuments and ruins become the setting of their passionate affair.

With the sights serving as an essential part of Vassanji’s storytelling, we list 6 very Delhi things you can expect to find in the book:

 

“[Munir and Mohini] had gone to see the fortress city of Tughlaqabad. Bahadur dropped her off at DRC. Mohini watched him drive off, out of sight, then she and Munir called for a taxi, which they hired for the day. Tughlaqabad was the most isolated and private it could get, but it was far from romantic. It was forbidding, haunted by its history.”

~

“At Siri the place was flooded with lights. Dust, cars hooting, the crowds. The bheed. The night air was thick and moist, a full moon was out. And hundreds of devoted fans filling the seats. The Mishra brothers began with a lovely thumri, a single-line love song to Krishna, repeated over and over in variations. Kya karun sajani, aaye na baalam . . . What to do, beloved, he doesn’t come . . . Then a couple of khayals. A bhajan by Meera. Paga ghungaru bandh . . . She wished he were there to share the music, for her to explain it to him.”

~

“A Narrative of the Last Days of Delhi

One terrible day bled into another following the death of our Sultan Alauddin by poison, and the three princes’ gory murders in Gwalior Fort. There was no end in sight to the naib’s evil machinations; now a Hindu was installed Sultan of Delhi and the descendants of maharajas strutted about its streets, energized by their polished new idols and charms. The future of Hindustan lay exposed and our own lives hung in the balance from day to day.

Such dark thoughts had returned to play upon my mind as I walked home one evening from a visit to my master Nizamuddin . . .”

~

“This time [Munir and Mohini] met at Khan Market. They did a casual round of the shops first. He bought a notebook, for which she paid, and he picked up the reading glasses he had ordered. Alphonso mangoes were just in season, displayed in fragrant heaps, and she bought a couple for him to eat that evening.”

~

“[Munir] visited by taxi the Qutub Minar, a lean and elegant tower of red sandstone in the south of the city, from where the first Turkish sultans had ruled, having defeated the local Rajput kings in the tenth century; and the Purana Qila, which was the site of the earliest city of Delhi, called Indraprastha, from the time of the epic Mahabharata.”

~

“Karim’s was one of a cluster of eating places nearby that all offered the same cuisine, kebabs and biryani occupying pride of place, releasing enticing aromas into the street. Of them, Karim’s had the distinction of having its entrance leading inside through a passageway to a counter.”

Written with trademark sensitivity and a sharp, affecting vision, A Delhi Obsession cuts close to the bone, and compels you to confront your profoundest dilemmas.

 

 

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