Storizen Magazine March 2018 Madhu Vajpayee by Storizen Magazine

STORIZEN

EVEN T DARKEST WILL END THE SUN RISE

VICTO

Les Miser

R HUGO:

THE T NIGHT D AND

N WILL

Erables

Priyanka Raiyani

The Indian English literature or commonly referred to as the Indo-Anglian literature has been the newest and fastest growing cast in India. Affluent, urban, and highly educated, we have had numerous authors who have successfully crossed the language barriers and have become popular in countries apart from India.

Along with widely accepted literary giants of Indian descent, the writing industry has swooned off by a growing number of young authors who are immensely prized by the country's contemporary.

We are delighted to feature the bestselling author Dr. Madhu Vajpayee, a Melbourne based author in this festive edition.

This issue is a “special one” being the re-launch of Storizen Magazine with the festive mood and a lot of state-of-art excitement.

We have always valued our readers and thank them for supporting us in our journey. In this edition, we are also featuring some stories, true incidents about Holi that have an impact on the writers' lives thus giving a platform to voice their talent.

We are glad to feature in this edition, the event that recently happened in Mumbai, ‘The Women Writers' festival organized by SheThePeople.TV on 23rd and 24th February 2018. The highlights include important discussions and viewpoint as a whole on the existing and emerging of women writers like Anjali Kirpalani, Kiran Manral, Meghna Pant et al.

Keep encouraging comments and useful suggestions coming so that we can continue to incorporate them in our efforts to make the magazine the best possible for you. We hope that you enjoy the issue and we wish you a very Happy and Colorful Holi!

Your Friend,

Saurabh Chawla Email: editor@storizen.com

Women Writers' Festival 2018

On February 23rd and February 24th, SheThePeople.TV organized the Mumbai edition of the event Women Writers' Festival 2018. The event was held at The Title Waves in Bandra on February 23rd and at GoetheInsitut/Max Mueller Bhavan Mumbai on February 24th. The choice of two events made sure that a larger participation of the people both from South Mumbai as well as the suburbs.

The event focused primarily on women writers including both - fiction and non-fiction writers. The topics of discussion covered all the genres and lifestyle followed by the women writers, from parenting from parenting, speculative fiction, crime writing, business writing, gender issues, urban living as well as new media like blogging.

Some of the eminent women personalities were the speakers of the event like Annie Zaidi, Kiran Manral, Sagarika Ghose, Meghna Pant, Elsa Marie D’Silva, Anjali Kirpalani, Aanam Chashmawala, Ila Johari, Prerna Sinha, Kavya D’Souza et al.

One of the panel of the Women Writers' fest discussed on "The Business of Blogging". Panel consisted of famous bloggers across versatile industries like fashion, beauty, parenting and writing. Prerna Sinha of Maa of All Blogs, Aanam Chashmawala of What When Wear, Kavya D’souza of StreakHueFall and Ila Johari of The Fleamarket Queen talk about the difficulties of blogging, and what it takes to be a successful blogger. The panel was moderated by Anjali Kirpalani.

Start with what you have – whether that’s a camera phone or a DSLR. You can slowly build your blog with time. It helps to freelance or work part-time while starting out as a blogger since this gives you the security of having a fixed pay check coming in at the end of every month.

The issues faced today and in the past when it came to blogging was discussed, the sources of revenue, how to create the brand identity of the blog etc were some of the questions discussed by the panelists

While discussing about the consistency in running a successful blog, Aanam's words were “I found it to be a very challenging for people to take me seriously but I think when you speak to a person, they learn to take you seriously As a woman, it’s a tad bit more difficult to be taken seriously especially if they see you wearing red lipstick But there’s more to that and I made it a point for them to take me seriously. I have a team of four now and I am 26 years old. Anyone who sets a meeting up with me won’t dare to not take me seriously

The topic concluded with the discussion about the challenges of blogging. Kavya's take on the challenges was, “The biggest challenge is that things are changing every day.

There are no office rules and there is no hierarchy. The internet is a portal that is fast changing. You’ve to keep up with what is coming out on social media. Being in the public eye just might be the biggest challenge of all.”

Day 2 of the event involved discussion about the relationship of women writers and crime writing, 'When Women Write Crime" was the focus of the SheThePeople.TV's Women Writers' Festival 2018 panel. The panel was informational and insightful one with responses from panelists comprising of crime journalists and writers. Puja Changoiwala, Archana Sarat, Aarti V Raman and Annie Zaidi talk about the research that goes hand in hand with being a crime writer and the expanding genre of crime fiction, among other things, panel was moderated by Meghna Pant.

According to Archana Sarat, a 2015 statistic by National Crime Records Bureau revealed that a 2.24 million crimes against women were reported in the past decade.

"Writing needs to be designed by the author so as to say what it has to naturally and not in a manner that is preachy. "

- Annie Zaidi

The sub topics of the discussion were whether the crime writing is male centric only to which Puja Changoiwala's viewpoint was that it's a matter of expertise and is independent of the gender. It also focused on the researching aspect of crime fiction writing. The writer has to go beyond the Wikipedia in order to add details in the book.

Puja Changoiwala’s novel The Front Page Murders is about a serial killer in which she had to trace 20 years of his life. This took extremely intensive research where she interviewed the people related to or who knew him and even interviewed the killer himself. Even the publishers are seeing demand of more true crime stories and this is one genre that is taking off.

You can catch this conversation on SheThePeople.TV’s Facebook page.

The event was organized by SheThePeople.Tv in Mumbai.

MADHU VAJPAYEE

HOW HOLI IS CELEBRATED ACROSS THE OCEANS

by Shamlal Puri

Indians living across the world never forget to celebrate their festivals. Be it Diwali, Gupurab or Holi, we celebrate it with full energy and a splash of colours of the rainbow

Holi is a spring festival celebrated by Hindus, as a festival of colours. Over the years, this day festival has become an importantfixture in many regions wherever Indian diaspora had found its roots, be it in Africa,

North America, Europe or closer to home in South Asia. Every year, thousands of Hindus participate in the festival Holi It has many purposes

First and foremost, it celebrates the beginning of the new season, spring and its importance also lie in Hindu mythology.

I have lived a significant part of my life in several parts of the world

Shamlal Puri is a veteran international award-winning journalist, author, broadcaster and photographer who has worked in Africa, Asia, the Middle East and Europe in a career spanning 48 years He is the author of 16 books and lives and works in London

– Africa, Middle East, Europe and the USA where Holi is celebrated and in my journalism career while assignments abroad found myself enjoying the event in

South Africa, and, as far away as Fiji, Trinidad and Tobago and Jamaica

I have childhood memories of taking part in Holi festivities while living and growing in Tanzania, East Africa. I lived in a town called Kigoma, on the shores of Lake Tanganyika, in western Tanzania, which was a melting pot of a small community of Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims - all collectively called Asians. They formed the backbone of professionals and the local business setups.

Together, the entire Asian community showed such love and friendship despite their religious backgrounds,and we all often joined to celebrate each other’s festivals in their respective places of worship. Hindus and Sikhs attended the Hindu Mandir on the shores of the 4,820 feet deep Lake Tanganyika, the world’s second largest and deepest sweet water lake in the Rift Valley after Lake Baikal in Russia.

The dominant Hindu community of the town consisted of Gujaratis followed by Punjabis and few Bengalis.

Asian migration to the then Tanganyika (later renamed Tanzania) started in the 1800s,but they were joined by other groups over the years.

Many Asians in Kigoma formed part of the new arrivals of the 1950s onwards

This generation had settled in Tanzania from the Indian sub-continent and was fully aware of the significance of Holy – the arrival of spring in India and others who knew of the importance of this Festival of Colours explained its importance in the mythology – the victory of good over evil after the thwarting of a Hindu demon King I remember well the night before Holi when a Holika bonfire was lit,and we all circled around it throwing coconuts into the leaping flames. This is to mark the defeat of the demoness Holika.

The following day colors were splashed across all Asian community members met each other, playfully squirting gulal and enjoying a laughing forgetting all their problems.

This was a prime example of building bridges between various Asian religions It was social cohesion in living color!

Such events built long-lasting friendships many of which have lasted to this day.

One incident comes to mind when as a shy nine-year-old, dressed in a white shirt splashed with splodges of dark red color caught the attention of a local Tanzanian African, who worked as a telephone exchange operator at the Post Office. His first reaction in jest was when asked me in Kiswahili language: “How many people have you murdered today?”

He always reminded me of his jokey question several years down the line whenever I phoned the old system manual telephone exchange at a time when you had to be asked to put through to a telephone number in the town.

Celebrations in Dar es Salaam, the economic capital of Tanzania, the Indian Ocean city in the east, the home of 100,000 Hindus at one time, were even more vibrant.

That was also the case with celebrations across the border in Nairobi, Kenya and Kampala, Uganda where there were some 200,000 Hindus at one time but who migrated to the UK and India since then.

Holi is celebrated with full energy by the majority of more than half a million Hindus in South Africa.

Members of other religions in this Rainbow Nation join in this fun-filled day Durban is a crowd-puller during the Holy festival

London, where I live these days, is the epicenter of all Hindu festivals, including Holi which is celebrated in the United Kingdom by the nearly one million Hindu community.

The annual Holi Festival of Colors held in London is now a major attraction not only for the Hindus but also the white British population who turn up in significant numbers to enjoy the fun and frolic of this colorful event

There is a strong Hindu community settled in Wembley, Southall, Tooting suburbs of London and further afield in Leicester in the British Midlands.

Interestingly, the Holi festival was held in Germany in 2011 by Hindus and other communities.

Since then, the concept has since captivated crowds from all backgrounds in Munich, Hannover and further afield in New York, Peru, Mexico, Turkey, Australia, New Zealand, Tokyo,

and Singapore splashing colors and enjoying music and dance

This is one day of the year when all courtesies take a backseat and whoever comes in the path of revelers is splashed with color.

Shamlal Puri is a veteran international award-winning journalist, author, broadcaster and photographer who has worked in Africa, Asia, the Middle East and Europe in a career spanning 48 years. He is the author of 16 books and lives and works in London.

Holi helps us understand how pious humanity is and how we as the representatives of human nature must put aside all our differences for once to unite even in the vibrance and hue of various colors adorned by us in this day.

- Saptarshi Das

FiestaofLoveand Humanity-Holi

by Saptarshi Das

I have bathed myself in the various colors of life, yet when I see people from every caste, culture and background come together on this day, my heart feels the true warmth of love, care and belonging that comes with humanity

Coming from an army background, I have traveled to different states met different types of people - the conservative, the open-minded and the hypocrites. None of them knew why they are the way they are. Yet they represent one of the many colors that fly in the air like we celebrate the festival of color – Holi!

Being an Indian, I have always wondered why people never understood the concept of celebration! Yes, it means you show off your happiness, bank balance and arrogance to others to make them feel smaller than you. But celebration also has another side to it. Let's take Holi as an example.

The Festival of color - How unique and unbiased! It tells us many stories about how good won over evil, how the one with the innocent heart stayed unhurt and the one who was immune to fire met a drastic fate because she wished him harm. The malice in her heart got the best of her (or the worst)!

The day before Holi (Dhuleti) is celebrated by burning wood is symbolic of the weakness and passions that dominate our minds. On the pious occasion of Holi, we should take a vow to renounce lust and desires and to inculcate the divine virtues of love for God, goodwill, sympathy, faith in God.

Holi helps us understand how pious humanity is and how we as the representatives of human nature must put aside all our differences for once to unite even in the vibrancy and hue of various colors. Whatever has happened is past? Forget it. If you got praise, fine; if you got insults, fine; it’s all over now. Immerse yourself in SelfBliss.

I have bathed myself in the various colors of life, yet when I see people from every caste, culture, and background come together on this day; my heart feels the true warmth of love, care, and belongingness that comes with humanity.

I just hope and pray that each year when we celebrate this festival, we keep reminding ourselves that one fine day we will turn into ash and become part of this Mother Nature And when that day comes, we won't be able to identify which caste we belonged to, what color we were and which religion we followed But, until that day comes, let’s observe only one religion, let's preach only one subject, let's follow only one culture and let's celebrate only one festival Holi - The colorful festival of love and humanity, the path that shall lead us towards blessedness

A poet and a writer in search of a soul who can be my muse. Loves dogs, football, poetry, reading novels, long rides, hibernating and music.

Colors of Happiness

Nandini smiled broadly to herself in happiness. She was looking forward to the weekend when she would get to celebrate Holi with her friends. And this year it was going to be special. All her childhood friends were coming from different cities and it was a decade since she had met them all. She had never thought that she could ever live without them but then life had taken its toll and all friends had gone in as many different directions as possible.

Nandini was gazing at the landscape as her bus trudged its way to her small hometown. She remembered how every Holi her grandmother would tell Shiv, my brother and I the same story. The story had never changed in all these years – of Prahlad and Hiranyakashyap – how Lord Vishnu had taken the avatar of Narasimha; how Holika had been burnt alive on the pyre. The same story with the same characters had not once bored her or deterred her from believing that good things happen to people who have good intentions at heart.

As she disembarked from the bus, she saw the streets lined up with stalls and makeshift shops that sold pichkari and the colors. She couldn’t help but smile even broader. She bounded into an auto rickshaw and went riding all the way up to the street where her home was located. She smiled. There was a huge “pandal” in the front and huge vessels were lying there.

Bhaang for tomorrow! She gleamed. “My rock star is here!” yelled a voice from inside. Her father came bounding outside He threw open the gate and ran all the way to where she was standing. All dignity lost, she threw her bag and broke into a run and lunged on to her father.

Nandini’s mother and grandmother came out happily. They looked at each other and smiled. Every time Nandini was home from Pune, her home was always had extra celebrations. Ever since she had moved to Pune to work, the home was two decibels silent. With no one to jabber non-stop or lack of noise due to no fights

Photo: Adam Whitlock

between Shiv and Nandini; things had gone really silent. Shiv mostly hung out with his friends in the evening and rarely any of his friends visited at home. But when Nandini was coming, Shiv would stay in at home and make a ruckus and invite all his friends home It was always short trips and though Shiv never accepted, he really missed his kid sister and wanted to make most of the time they had together.

Shiv bounded out of the garden, “OiGutkha you are home!”

Nandini stopped smiling and scowled at her brother. She hated when Shiv called her Gutkha. She didn’t like the name. She looked around, found few pebbles and grabbed them. She then broke into a run after her brother and threw the stones at him Shiv laughed his head off maniacally All the elders smiled as the children ran around.

***

Finally, the family settled down as many cups of tea and snacks were made and the children and the elders chomped away

“When are your friends coming?” asked Shiv “By evening”, chirped Nandini, “To think we were away for almost a decade.”

“Yeah, we know you four”, nodded the Grandmother.

After lunch, Shiv and Nandini sat with grandmother as she started on the story of young Prahlad. Nandini cuddled with Shiv and they both sat listening raptly to her. The story or the narration hadn’t changed in many years. Nandini liked it this way.

Some things should never change They lose their meaning in life

As the story drew to a close, Nandini closed her eyes and decided to take a nap. There was time until Anoushka, Kartik, and Rishi arrived –

her childhood friends She had a pleasant smile on her face; the one that of a contented human. She couldn’t ask for more. She had a perfect life.

And when evening arrived, it was mayhem. All four got into a group hug and all spoke together, ran around in circles – it was the perfect cacophony. The parents looked and smiled as the children yapped around like mad things. It was going to be a difficult time trying to get them to settle. It had been eight and a half years now. To know that they still shared the same love and friendship was good enough for the family

Nobody could separate them.

“Let’s go buy colors and water-bombs”, suggested Kartik.

Everybody liked the idea and as they set to wear shoes to set out, Nandini’s dad came to them and handed each a 500 Hundred rupee note, smiling “Dad, we earn now. You don’t have to burden yourselves with our merrymaking”, said Nandini, smiling back.

“You can earn all the money that is there to earn. But I still pay for your Holi colors and waterbombs”, said Nandini’s dad

All four laughed as they accepted the money with thanks and gratitude.

The market had expanded in so many years of development. It had become a huge place. Shops crammed and cluttered into a single area and there were women and their young children playing in rags. Some of them were tiny tots and infants. The four walked around the market and for some weird reason, none of them were speaking with each other.

In many years that they had celebrated Holi, they had never had seen what they saw today The people who were selling the colors and other accessories for the celebrations were the ones who could barely afford a time’s meal.

They wore rags and their clothes were torn at odd places. The infants didn’t have enough to cover themselves in the remainder of the winter that was leaving in few days nor did they have sufficient to eat and were bawling due to hunger or pain – not sure The elders were trying to sell vigorously just so that they could make money

“Is it just me or has the world always had so much suffering behind celebrations?” asked Anoushka, as she intently stared at a few months old baby lying in a crib made out of cloth The baby had curled her fists and was sleeping peacefully

“We just grew up, I believe”, said Rishi as he looked away.

“Holi is only for people who can afford to have Holi”, said Kartik, thoughtfully.

Nandini looked at her friends and smiled, “Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

The next day there was a huge stall in the town square where there was food being prepared and four very enthusiastic youngsters were running around A sign-board read, “We need volunteers to serve those who serve us Holi!”

Many who had come after playing Holi and positively colored beyond recognition were enthusiastic to join. The four had to send them away to take a bath first. As the food got prepared and the smell wafted in the air, many street urchins came looking and peeking meekly Nandini and Anoushka were encouraging the kids to come in. Slowly, poor and underprivileged – all joined in. Nandini and Anoushka started playing Holi with themselves on the street and a few of the kids joined them For a change, it was really pleased to have done something totally different on a day as auspicious as Holi.

A police van came trudging up to them and an Inspector jumped out. Nandini was the first to run up to them.

“Good Afternoon sir”

“Do you know you need permission to pull off something like that? It’s a corporation area”, said the Inspector, frowning lightly.

“I am sorry sir; It was a quick plan. Plus, I thought that we just want to feed the unfed and the poor –even if it is just for one day”, said Nandini, honestly.

“The good part is that your father heard you four muddle together and mumble the plan and that is why he took permission on your behalf”, said the Inspector smiling at her, “Now, get me and my colleague a plate too, will you? We are hungry too ”

Nandini burst into a broad smile and she and Anoushka ran to the stall where the boys and the new volunteers were volunteering. They quickly loaded three plates with food and went and offered to the police

All the three police personnel smiled as they ate the food served by the two.

Nandini felt happy. As a child, she had always thought of “Gulaal” as a happy color. But today, celebrating Holi along with the ones who brought Holi to her life, she knew that “Gulaal” indeed was the happiest color she had ever known She could meet her friends and they all were of the same opinion as hers. By end of the day, they were all tired – to the core. But they were happy beyond words.

“I know we have celebrated the same festival so many times in our lives together But we met after such a long time and still made a huge difference. Thank You Guys, you are the most precious possession I have”, muttered Nandini lazily. “There goes our little emotional fool”, mumbled Kartik

Everyone burst out laughing as she shoved him jovially. She was glad. And Nandini wanted to keep this memory exactly like this in her mind forever.

Ashwati Menon hails from Kerala but was born and brought up in Gujarat. The literary journey started with anthologies "Secrets of Soul" by Rigi Publication House and "Drenched Souls - Love in Monsoon" by Gargi Publishers. Under the same Publication Banner, she released "Scarred for Life, Healed Forever" a Medical-Science Fiction Ashwati also has to her credit "Sweet Heart Broken" which was released under the label of VPublishers in Digital Print and being Guest Editor for "Soo Much in Love" by Raindrops Publications. She is also an Associate Member of Screen Writers Association (SWA) Mumbai and a trained Classical Dancer

The Tough Holi

The story of a woman celebrating Holi without Hooliganism

by Lt Col Ankita Srivastava

Holi always scared her. As a newly married young bride, Avantika wasn't looking forward to her first Holi at her in-laws place in Lucknow.

A regimented childhood that she spent in Allahabad under her strict father’s regime thankfully killed her desire to play Holi. Firstly as every March she was studying for her final exams and secondly because her father told her it wasn't a safe one for girls.

So every Holi, as a young curious girl she would however peek into the lane from her second story flat windows that were made out of weak wood in that shoe shape white building.

The green wooden window panes would squeak while opening but being on second floor not much was heard from down below.

The day of Holi would begin with total serenity in the surrounding areas.

Even the sky would appear soft, bright light blue as if readying itself as a canvas for the ensuing colour riot of the day.

By 10 am various small and large gang of men and grown up boys, inebriated, dressed in white kurta pajamas would begin to show in those narrow lanes.

Avantika would pull the window pane a bit towards her, lest some rowdy guy looks up and sees a spotless face hanging out. She was told by her neighbors it was an offense to have a spotless face on a Holi in Uttar Pradesh.

She would hide her face behind those panes but her curiosity would let her hang there only.

Hindi movie songs would be blaring loud. The Sridevi song from Himmatwala would repeatedly play in blasting noise. By 10.30 am most boys would be seen dancing on streets. The kids would throng with little or huge pichkaris and water balloons. Teenager boys moved around with pocket full of paint, Greece and even rotten eggs.

Holi in Allahabad would produce some real hooligans. It was a strong catalytic festival; it would convert even the otherwise sober boys into

majorly aggressive beings who would only want to colour/spoil faces of their opponents

Holi brought out some kind of evilness and most of the men would translate it into taking revenge of all sorts for any pending action of their opponents.

It wasn't the festival of just colours in Allahabad; but it included the use of cow dung and muck from the drains in the name of Holi.

Avantika never saw girls of her age playing Holi in her town. Only the married women were allowed to play this colour game. Actually they were allowed one way. When amongst women they would be allowed to be fair with both sides coloring each other but when it came to play with males; the same formula didn't work at all. As an unwritten rule the women were not supposed to apply colour on the male faces.

May be either they were badly colored when they came in front of the women or they were too drunk for these women to touch these men’s faces.

Avantika was always keen to watch how these women saved themselves from the drunken male friends of their husbands.

The men would one by one come close to the woman; she would straighten her saree, and would try to cover her bosom a little more just to ensure her softness doesn't get hurt by the action of playing Holi.

The men meantime would keep an eye on the woman just as if hawking a prey just caught.They would first

pour the dry powder colour in his rough palms; add some water / liquid paint / Greece; rub his palms vigorously; showing his white or may be colour stained teeth in that wicked smile; advance and would tease her to stop him or apply colour on his face. The woman would bring her closed fists(full of red colour) from behind and would tiptoe to rub them over to the man’s face. Avantika considered this as some kind of sport- amatch betweentwo opponents in a battle field. But soon the man would hold her advancing hands. The woman would almost be pinned down. And now was the chance of the man to take revenge of the likely assault that she was planning on him. He would now hold her protesting hands by one hand and with the other smear the colors on her face and as part of punishment he would take his colour stained finger to her teeth and would run it vigorously. She would be spitting the bitter taste of all the mixture.

The man wouldn't be done yet. He would then bring his hands to her hair passing on all the wet colours much against the wishes of that lady. The lady by now would have been empowered completely.

She would stop resisting thinking now the damage has already been done. She would however try to rearrange her saree that has been ruffled because of the vigorous exercise by the man.

The second man who would probably be feeling left out from the privilege of touching the woman's skin first, would now be advancing towards the

same woman She would be standing and rubbing her eyes that would be stinging from the Holi colour which was ruthlessly smudged in her eyes

Avantika wondered watching all this from her balcony if these women were treated as some enemies. Why would men be feeling so triumphant doing such acts of hooliganism?

The second man as if ready for the assault would reach the so called woman and would begin to rub his coarse dirty filthy colored palms over her arms one by one. She would be trying not to let him successful. After all milky white arms would look most ugly with those colors and it would be so damn difficult to remove the colours even after Holi would end. The second man would be twice the size of the woman so he would easily grab her arms. He would then slide his palms on her forearm up and down multiple times ensuring not a single space is left uncolored.

The expert hands would soon shift from the woman's arms to her already colored face.

He would run her palms over her face make it look like a colored TV screen. Avantika could only see a pair of eyes in that woman's face that too because the eyes have white pupils.

The woman frantically would be shaking her head left and right but the man wouldn't let go of her. It was as if he was deriving some insane pleasure ruining the woman's beauty temporarily.

He would soon realize that actually it wasn't giving him the intended pleasure because the face was

already ruined by his friend He then would notice that her neck isn't yet colored so he would slide down his hands on her neck Seeing from the far sight it was visible to Avantika the farthest the hand slide

She would also notice that helpless look this woman would give to her husband. The husband wouldn't mind the scene. Probably he would himself be matting out the same Holi treatment to that man's wife once the gang reached his home.

So in Holi everything was accepted. The man would then hang forward on to the woman and would shamelessly slide his hands inside her blouse. As he would be doing so , he would be ranting “ burana Mano Holi hai”.

Avantika would shiver in her balcony. How treacherous for that woman. What's her crime? That she is a newly married lady?

How disgusting. Avantika vowed when she would grow up she wouldn't allow this to happen to her. She became determined with each passing year.

The woman would stop resisting the strong powerful man whose hands were full inside her blouse…. Squeezing her nipples mercilessly and giving the most wicked look and laughter.

Loud music, liquor drenched badly colored men would be dancing to a frenzy enjoying every bit of Holi as per their choice and way.

When it would be announced to move to the next house, men who couldn't get the chance to cause the

repulsive feeling by their dirty touches to this woman would pick up the bucket of cold water The woman would almost be running to save herself from the water being poured over her head But these Holi men would always be more powerful. They wouldn't let go of the hapless woman at all. They would pour the bucket over her head making her saree cling to her curves. It certainly gave the requisite high to these men.

Avantika hated this scene which got repeated in front of her hidden eyes each year. What a society is this?

Woman is being objectified openly and no one is opposing. The mother in law of this woman would be serving gujiyas and papads to all the reveling gang of male friends of her son. She would be even blessing each of them as they would bend down to touch her feet after visibly molesting her daughter in law in front of her!

Avantika grew up and got married in a house in Lucknow. It was her first Holi. She locked herself in the bathroom lest her brother in law tries to do some silly stunt with her. Her husband got very angry at Avantika’s behavior. He raised his voice.

Avantika explained in brief about her fears from her childhood exposure. Her husband further growled and said that they belong to a cultured family and no one does that disrespect to the ladies of his house.

Somehow she got convinced and came out dressed up in a very thick fabric salwaar kurta, which had a high neck and full sleeves.

She went out and stood like a statue She decided she won't put colour on anyone; nor run around in wet clothes; and certainly won't wrestle so as to excite or aggravate the males that they launch a full frontal attack on her.

She stood next to her husband and waited for the brother in law to come and apply colour. Her brother in law entered along with few of his friends. A fear gripped Avantika’s heart recalling the ugliness of Holi celebration in Uttar Pradesh.

She however kept a strict no nonsense face. And she announced to no one in particular that anyone who wants to apply colour on her face is most welcome. With that she stood jutting out her face. It actually killed the building excitement amongst the boys. Men love to conquer and she didn't want that.

One boy came and rubbed his palms on her cheeks. She didn't breathe for those seconds. Another boy too did the same. When there was no reaction from her side, it didn't excite the players. She continued to play mute. The scene was very dull. Her brother in law even asked her to apply colour on the boys faces but she kept standing motionless and expressionless.

And then for some action or drama her husband came forward and held one of the tall boy's arms from behind and shouted at Avantika, that she should now apply some colour on this boy's face. Avantika stood still.

Avantika’s mother in law who was watching all this from the kitchen window came rushing outside and shouted that for a wife how a husband can hold a younger brother’s arms

Avantika’s husband’s hands dropped down instantly leaving the tall boy's arms. He stormed inside the house fuming feeling insulted by his mother's harsh remarks. It was a marriage against his mother’s wishes but he didn't expect his first Holi after marriage will be ruined.

Avantika on the other hand was too stunned. She didn't know if she too was guilty of ruining her husband's first Holi after marriage. But inside her heart she was happy that she could manage to set a trend of celebrating Holi without any trace of hooliganism.

ABOUT ANKITA SRIVASTAVA - A lady born with a flair for natural narration has many feathers in her multiple hats that she wears with great ease. She started as a poet and apart from getting published, her poems got broadcasted on AIR.Having joined Indian Army as an officer, she occasionally switched between her guns and pens. She became the student editor of a military magazine in her Army Officers training Academy and continued to write military articles in various army journals. She hung her boots after 14 years of military life and went on to gain some new experience.

She walked beauty pageant ramps, won them and created history in its own unique way. She returned to her base after the grand show and now took writing as a full-time hobby. Her debut book “The Pink Scarecrow” is a bestseller. Balancing her life between office, home, and hobby; she has been contributing to various anthologies. Her published works - short stories, poems, and articles are there in almost 15 anthologies now.

My PATH TO "GET PUBLISHED"

For some strange reason, people assume that writing books on mythology are a piece of cake and the surest way to launch a career as a successful, author. They wouldn’t be entirely off the mark of course. After all, this is a red-hot genre, thanks to the likes of Amish Tripathi, Ashwin Sanghi, Anand Neelakantan and recently, Sanjay Leela Bhansali. People cannot seem to get enough of mythology and history, especially since there is controversy, stardom and big bucks involved. Usually, though, it involves a lot more work than randomly choosing a trending character from one of the Sanskrit epics, refurbishing the old legends to suit modern sensibilities and packaging it all very prettily. Luck and arbitrary chance are the key factors here. In this regard, it does not hurt to have your fingers and toes crossed although opinions vary as to the overall efficacy of this method towards determining your fate.

Mercifully, I was not aware of all these things when I embarked on my own writing career. It would have made things even more complicated than they were. At the time, like every aspiring author, I daydreamed about emulating the feats of a JK Rowling or Hilary Mantel and tried not to dwell on the other side of the spectrum which has way too many talented writers languishing for lack of recognition or remaining unpublished.

Having taken the sensible decision to merely live in the moment, work really hard on Arjuna: Saga of a Pandava Warrior – Prince, focus on perfecting it and worry about its future in future, I tried to do just that. Barring a few terrifying moments where you confront the distinct possibility that you may not be as good as your dream demands fulfillment, I managed to complete the first draft, to my satisfaction.

Anuja Chandramouli

Author - Kartikeya, Padmavati, and Prithviraj Chauhan

The next step is to take your heart in your hands and approach the publishers, assuring yourself that they will love the book nearly as much as you do. A list of publishing houses is compiled in order of preference and over the course of what feels like forever, you work your way through the list, as dejection follows on the heels of relentless rejection. During dark moments, you curse yourself for not listening to your teachers, getting an engineering degree and securing a ‘safe job’ where they work you into the ground but at least make sure you are richly compensated. What madness compelled you to take up a career in such an uncertain field where the only surety is heartache and exacerbated suicidal tendencies?

Then when hope is at its lowest ebb and you are seriously considering those stupid emails and ads which urge you to take up data processing (whatever that means) so that you can rake in the moolah from the comfort of your home, a blessed publisher agrees to take a chance on your baby book. For the next few months, you wallow in ecstasy, dream of super stardom and make prudent plans not to piss away the fortune that has your name on it.

Months of waiting on tenterhooks take the edge off the vulgar joy and arduous editing coupled with even more waiting blunts it some more. Finally, your book hits the stands and to your pleasant surprise becomes one of the top 5 sellers for that year! You are over the moon with joy but not surprisingly make a crash landing when you come to the sobering conclusion that you are not yet in Chetan Bhagat’s league let alone J.K. Rowling’s. When reality bites, it really does take a chunk out of your heart and soul!

dream of super stardom and make prudent plans not to piss away the fortune that has your name on it.

However, thanks to your moral science teachers who assured you repeatedly that winner don’t quit and quitters don’t win, you gather all your resources and start work on your next book. You take the plunge, and do it again and again, 8 times at the last count. Fortunately, despite everything you are still a dreamer but a pragmatic one. Now tempered with fantasies of fame and fortune are some hard truths. There will be good days when you feel on top of the world because a reader has sent a heartfelt email asserting that your words have changed his life and Amazon recommends your book as one of the best reads of the month. Invitations to lit fests will be extended, there will be beautiful journeys and interesting people by the wayside and even the occasional award that will make you feel it is all worth it.

These will be followed by really bad days when you want to jump off a cliff after following through on a secret urge to punch Amish Tripathi in the gut.

But ultimately, there is the awareness that reading and writing is your life for better or worse, even when you are tempted to chuck it all out the window and take up data –processing (whatever that means).

Anuja Chandramouli is a bestselling Indian author and New Age Indian Classicist Her highly acclaimed debut novel, Arjuna: Saga of a Pandava Warrior-Prince, was named by Amazon India as one of the top 5 books in the Indian Writing category for the year 2013 Kamadeva: The God of Desire, Shakti: The Divine Feminine, and Yama’s Lieutenant and its sequel are her other bestsellers Her articles, short stories, and book reviews appear in various publications like The New Indian Express and The Hindu Her latest books are Kartikeya:

The Destroyer’s Son, Prithviraj Chauhan: The Emperor of Hearts and Padmavati: The Burning Queen An accomplished orator, she regularly conducts Story Telling sessions and workshops on Creative Writing, Empowerment, and Mythology in schools, colleges, and various other platforms

This happily married, mother of two little girls, lives in Sivakasi, Tamil Nadu She is a student of classical dance Currently, she is hard at work on her new book with her two trusty aides – caffeine and yoga

Bernard D'sa

Author - Symphonies of Love

The Unknown Journey of the Writer

Iremember the day at school when I used to write funny poems and short stories that used to make all my friends laugh and ending up with the teacher punishing us. The first love poem to my crush and then her complaint to our class teacher, those memories I still cherish.

Writing a story /poem was just a mere way of expressing myself. My first story was published in 2008 when publishing into a book was a foreign concept as self-publishing hadn't taken over the market then. The joy of seeing your work printed into a book was the ultimate happiness.

After writing for various magazines, books, periodicals, and websites I decided to write my first book and get it published. The thought seemed like a smooth cake walk but then getting it published was a big deal. Years later when I look back today, I see an altogether different approach towards writing and publishing and the road made easy to establish oneself with enormous mediums readily available.

Over the years, I have learned that individual thoughts and ideas are that one thing that makes you stand out. There are plenty of people around the world who wants to share their lives but unfortunately they don't get the opportunity and after all, everyone has a story but everyone is not a writer. Some stories are buried deep within while some shine up in the open getting critically acclaimed while some being bestsellers

The most important things are how you write and how your reader perceives you. Your readers are your biggest critics and your biggest supporters.

Once your reader gets impressed then they will long for your works. As a reader, I have waited for my favourite author's book, just to touch feel and read them.

As a writer, I feel totally satisfied when someone approaches me for an autograph or someone tags me in a post .It is a happy feeling to be able to connect with your readers.

To all the upcoming writer, people want a simple story, a heart touchy story, and a story in which they see themselves as the main protagonist. Connect with your readers and eventually, you will grow after all it's not the sales that define you but the number of people who have been inspired and touched.

Bernard D'sa is an author, poet, editor and a serial entrepreneur The bestselling author of Symphonies of Love He writes for various philosophical journals and social magazines Apart from being a writer, he is also involved in NGO activities He is the Founder and CEO of Raindrops Inc

Love of My Life by Rohit Sharma

Reviewed by Himani Gupta

As a reader, I am big fan of Rohit’s writing as he writes book with full research and every story in his book appear realistic for me. I can relate to or feel loved by his characters whether Aryan of TE Amo or Virat of love of my life. The characters of his stories are well defined. Whether it is positive character or negative character all appeared realistic. While reading book one can really feel connected with them. For example, the way Virat love Pratishtha was so realistic that I was totally felt romantic from heart and started calling my husband with the same name. As a reader, my favorite character was Vaishnavi. Although her part was small, but I can strongly relate to that person. She was so strong just like me. Some of the scenes in the book were taken from real life incidents that after reading

them you felt like crying and you started shivering with pain after recalling the tragic part of it The best part of the book was Love story between Pratishtha and Virat in Udaipur I just enjoyed reading the love story between them, the climax will make you cry as well as you feel like praising the character of Vaishnavi The cover of the book is very beautifully designed perfectly suited the title as well as the story On a lighter note Rohit is Aamir Khan of the writing world He writes one book every year but well written book (Haha) Rohit, I wait for your book eagerly Rohit is such writer whose book can be read by all generation So, I will recommend everyone to grab this book It is really an interesting book to read I want Rohit to make a short series of all his books as these days people watch short series on YouTube

About the books About the Author

Pain, sometimes, is like Love . . . It grows, until it becomes your Life.

Major Virat Singh Rajput was once a fearless Black Cat commando who had saved Mumbai from its venomous perpetrators. His life took a beautiful turn when he got engaged to Pratishtha Sachdev, the girl he had selflessly loved for the last fourteen years. Everything was blissful, until one day Pratishtha mysteriously went missing. Virat, who was hailed as India’s hero, has now become a villain and is facing a certain death penalty. Only one woman can save him

Criminal Defence Lawyer Vaishnavi Pandit has not won her first six cases She is adamant to win her seventh

But, still, no one knows where Pratishtha is No one still knows what the motive behind Virat’s crime was The odds are heavily against Vaishnavi

Let’s unfold together a deeply romantic and nail-biting story about true love, excruciating pain and lurid vengeance – a thrilling story about love and honesty, hatred and deceit, friendship and animosity, dark truths and hidden motives

Rohit Sharma is a fiction/non-fiction writer, motivational speaker and the best-selling author of ‘TeAmo I Love You’ and ’12 HOURS’.

His debut romantic-thriller, ‘TeAmo I Love You’, was released in December 2012 and was an instant hit among the readers. His second book, ’12 HOURS’ - an anthology of 12 short stories, which he coauthored with Mahi Singla, was released in September 2013 and was widely appreciated by the media and the readers of all ages. He then did the Hindi translations of his own books The Hindi translation of ‘TeAmo I Love You’ was released in 2014 Born in Amritsar and brought up in Faridabad, Rohit has written some of the most read articles for Filter Copy Apart from being a Gold-Medalist in Engineering (Honors), getting inducted into the Hall of Fame of his college, Rohit successfully represented his college at various dancing and sketching competitions

‘Love of My Life’ is his third fiction book He is also working on his first non-fiction book titled ‘How to get into IAS’

In her own words: I am Himani Gupta, By profession I am an HR Manager working in Bengaluru. Reading is my hobby which led me to write reviews for my readers. I have read and reviewed numerous books so far. Rohit is my favourite writer as far as writing is concerned and I wait for his books to read. If you wish to get your book reviewed, do feel free to contact me.