STAR STRUCK: 12 Days of Christmakwanzakah Blog Hop

Dear Insatiable Reader,

As part of the 12 Days of Christmakwanzakah Blog Hop, which I can't thank Julia Kelly and Alyssa Cole enough for organizing, I bring to you my short story,

 Star Struck.

© Falguni Kothari.

Tania Coehlo hefted her oversized tote on her shoulder, pressed the down elevator button and tried, unsuccessfully, not to cringe as DJ Mickey botched up a perfectly pleasant Christmas carol—a personal favorite—into something hideous.

Following yonder star…chiggy chiggy chiggy boom!

Christmas Eve in India was hot, noisy and as dystopian as the bhangra-style We Three Kings jingle-belling at her back. 

Tania’s head pounded harder than the music—had for the past three hours—but she’d borne it without fuss. Borne it because that was what she was paid to do—to sweat and toil, shield and deflect, present an exterior so shiny that it hurt the eye. And no matter how tempting it had been to fling the DJ and his music system from the 35^th floor balcony of Ariana’s penthouse to certain sound-free death on Mumbai’s cratered roads, she’d resisted committing the kind of mayhem she routinely begged her clients to avoid at all costs.

Not that they ever listened. Bollywood stars tended not to listen to advice. And a good thing too, as it kept her floating in scandals to sweep clean and, hence, afloat.

She’d escaped as soon as she got what she wanted for Ariana. The revised contract was signed and duly notarized with minutes to spare before midnight, and… She. Was. Done. Off the clock, starting right now—she glanced at her swarovski-encrusted wristwatch—a mere seven hours later than expected. But, she wouldn’t quibble. She’d go home, soak her aching muscles in a frothy bubble bath, get in bed with her TV remote and not think of anything or anyone…famous…until after the holidays. She was unofficially on holiday until the New Year.

“Unofficially” because Bollywood’s favorite go-to publicist could never “officially” shut off her phone. On holidays, particularly the time between Christmas and New Year, she had to be extra vigilant. Stars with more money than sense got to all sorts of crazy on such days—wild parties, accidental suicides, proposals, affairs, confessions, elopements, wrong gift delivered to the wrong mistress, etc. etc. God be praised, Ariana hadn’t fake eloped and had agreed to the pre-nup—for want of a better word—though Tania suspected the contract had more to do with Ariana’s co-star turned fiancé than Ariana heeding Tania’s counsel.

He seemed…not so much the bubblehead or junkie Bollywood’s inner grapevine claimed he was. Which was…not her business, thought Tania, firmly suppressing any and all curiosity she felt for the man. He could become her business, whispered the cash-crazy devil within her. She could sign him on as a client as Ariana and the man in question’s managers so clearly wished. But, leaving aside the conflict of interest such a triangle would surely trigger, Tania had forsworn working for Bollywood bad boys forever. She did not trust herself around pretty men anymore.

The elevator doors swished open, revealing a Marsala-red, holly-green interior that matched the decorations in the hallway. Ignoring the mistletoe creeping out of a wreath like a frostbitten tarantula, Tania strode in and put all thoughts of exploding stars of the Bollywood variety aside. Soon, she’d be away in her manger, detoxifying the stress from her bones.

“Hold the doors, babe.” The rasping, growly order came a split second before a tall, athletic body sauntered into the elevator cab, tuxedo doused in Hugo Boss scent and all.

Tania stopped breathing. No, no, no! Not him! The elevator whooshed shut, her breath soughed out, locking her in with Ariana’s freshly pre-nuptialized fiancé. DJ Mickey’s Hot Diggity Damn remixed with Silent Night punctuated the lockdown. She’d spent the entire night silently avoiding him for this? Hot diggity damn!

Veer Rana, Bollywood’s newest heartthrob and star-in-the-making, punched G on the button panel and stepped back to give Ari’s delicious little publicist with the fuck-me expression his standard supersonic smile. The smile was guaranteed to melt the panties off a hot blooded woman—or gay man—between the ages of thirteen to a hundred and thirteen. But all it did for this feisty piece was twist her lips into a sneer.

He’d eyed her all night, constantly, blatantly, enthralled by her plump, quivery lips as she talked, cajoled, argued and laughed. He’d watched her so intently that he knew just by the tiny swipe she gave those luscious lips with her hot pink tongue that he made her nervous, no matter what her fuck-you posture suggested.

He, Veer Rana, made Bollywood’s publicity piranha nervous as a turtle without a shell. His smile sharpened, turned shark-like as he held out his hand.

“I’m Veer. You’re Tania, right? I guess Ari forgot to introduce us.”

With a grim sigh and another lip swipe, she shook his hand. The elevator had barely started rolling when it stopped again, two floors down, on the 33^rd floor. Veer took advantage of Ms. Piranha’s confused distraction with the opening doors to engulf her hand between both of his and pull her close. To make room, he explained angelically. Luckily, not a soul waited in the hallway to get in.

“Guess they took the other elevator down or the stairs,” Veer remarked as the doors closed.

He swallowed a laugh when the smokin’ hot publicist shot a dark look at him, then snatched her hand back as she realized he’d been holding it for a good minute or more. She grabbed her designer tote with both hands and stared straight ahead as they began to descend again, only to stop on the next floor down.

“What the hell?” She poked her head out of the open doors and swept a pissed off gaze across the empty hallway. “No one. Don’t tell me someone’s played a stupid prank and pressed the buttons on every floor?”

In the slightly bent position, Ms. Piranha’s ass stuck out, round and firm under her satin-red jumpsuit. Veer bit down a groan, imagining the debauchery he could get up to with those gorgeous globules.

“I’ve played similar pranks and far worse as a child. Cheer up! Where's your Christmas spirit?” he murmured as she straightened up, still fuming.

Tania checked her watch again. Five minutes to midnight. She frowned at the man who wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was ogling her.

“Where's yours? Shouldn’t you bring Christmas in with your fiancée?” Tania shook her head in disgust. 

She wasn’t surprised at all by the kind of man Ariana had bound herself to. This was Bollywood, wasn't it? This was the way of the stars and why she had a job. Because men like Veer Rana could never be faithful, or considerate.

If she hadn’t been staring him in the face, she’d have missed it. One moment, his Botticelli’s angel face was alight with wicked promise. At her question, it remained temptingly gorgeous, and flirtatious, but the quality of his smile changed. His expression shuttered down, or rather a mask came on as if a director had yelled, “Take two: Christmas Eve. Elevator scene.”

“Didn’t you insist for a thirty-day grace period before the contract comes into effect and we announce the engagement to the world?” he asked, his expression mocking. “I don’t care to play the doting fiancé until it does.”

This was unbelievable! He was mocking her when it was him who should be blushing with shame? At the very least, be embarrassed for hitting on her? The elevator stopped again on the next floor and Tania gritted her teeth in frustration. 

The grace period had been her idea. If this had been a love match or even an arrangement between the families, she wouldn’t have insisted Ariana protect her interests. Ariana’s pseudo engagement was nothing but a publicity stunt. Both Veer Rana and Ariana were star babies and had been Bollywood’s darlings since their births. Both were in their early twenties and had just wrapped up their first film together under a very prestigious director and production banner. The film was a shoo-in for a mega blockbuster. The production house, Rana Productions, steered by Veer’s elder siblings wanted to lock the Veer-Ariana pairing for their next three projects. To ensure high ratings, they wanted the world to think the stars were an item both on and off screen. Truthfully, the setup would launch their careers into the stratosphere. Tania wasn’t against the publicity campaign. She just wanted to make sure her client understood what it entailed. Ariana was surprisingly naïve for a star baby.

“I did.” Tania lifted her chin. “And a good thing too as you clearly can’t be bothered with the fine print. Ariana’s more than my client. She’s my friend. So take this as a warning...I understand your engagement is a sham. But, as it states in one of the clauses, discretion must be the better part of valor. The world must believe you’re mad for each other. Skipping out on her before the ink is even dry on the contract is not the way to convince anyone that you mean business.”

If Veer hadn’t been mentally stripping Ms. Piranha out of her clothes, the dig at his scruples would’ve pissed him off. Nobody dared speak to him in this way—not even his big brother.

“Oh, I mean business, Tania. I mean to make you my business.” For the next thirty days, thought Veer, as he pulled a startled Tania into his arms, banding his arms around her tight little body, as much to feel her up as to stop her from slapping his face. He would deserve it if she kicked him in the nuts.

“Wha…?”

He didn’t allow her to speak or move or think. He crushed his mouth over hers, flicking his tongue over her pouty lips, like he’d wanted to do all night. He groaned. Fuck! She was as delicious as he’d imagined, tart and sweet and hot. For the past goddamn many hours she’d tormented him from across the room, not allowing him to come close. But, he had her right where he wanted her now. In his arms. She moaned, parting her lips in invitation, and he slipped his tongue into the wet slickness like a boat into a pier. He’d take her on his boat. Tomorrow. Tonight, if she’d let him.

Instead, the hellion bit his tongue. Hard. Veer jerked back, swearing a blue streak, wondering if she'd drawn blood.

“What was that?” Tania shrieked, pushing Veer Rana back with both hands. “Have you lost your mind?” 

She couldn't breathe. She felt as if she’d climbed thirty flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator down. Dear sweet heaven! What was that?

She felt…inflamed. Her heart…ached. She…yearned. She wanted to leap into Veer Rana’s arms and kiss him again. She stared at him as he stared back. His chest heaving, just like hers. His eyes…dear lord! Those wicked as sin eyes devoured her.

Tania stiffened. Had she learned nothing? Bollywood stars were as out of her league as the twinkly ones in the sky. They were her meal ticket. That’s all. That’s it. That’s how she wanted it. She would never let herself to be star struck again.

“You might have the face of an angel but you possess the morals of a pig. Even if it wasn’t for Ariana, spoilt little Bollywood boys do nothing for me,” she said, curtly.

Veer rubbed a thumb over the cleft in his chin, a sudden intensity lighting his bedroom eyes.

“Who does do it for you then?” he asked quietly, shocking her. 

He sounded…jealous. This was nuts. Even crazier, she reveled in his jealousy.

Tania’s mouth twisted with bitterness. He had no business being jealous of her or she of him. He wasn’t hers to be possessive of. She didn’t want him to be hers. So why did she feel like crying at the thought?

The elevator finally…finally swooshed open on the ground floor. She walked out and down the lobby without a backward glance. Her heart skipped a beat when Veer Rana followed her to the valet booth...like a groupie trailing yonder movie star. The eggnog had definitely gone to her head.

“Tania, would you consider spending Christmas with me?” Veer asked in that raspy, growly, voice of his. “It’ll be a gift I’ll treasure for the rest of my life,” he added when she started to shake her head, sounding so achingly sincere that she lost the fight.

Tania Coelho had always been a star struck little fool.

~The End~

Thanks for reading! Many more for sharing. 

If you leave a Star Struck comment, Santa might send you a Christmakwanzakah surprise!

Also...

Do visit Julia Kelly's blog today for her holiday story, where you will find the blog hop schedule for the coming 12 Days, which you'll also find on Alyssa Cole's blog.

Happy Holidays, Everyone!

AUTHOR'S CIRCLE: ANJALI MITTER DUVA

On Author’s Circle today, I have author, urban planner, and dance teacher Anjali Mitter Duva, to talk about writing, life and her book, FAINT PROMISE OF RAIN. 

Hi Anjali, welcome to my blog. 

1.      So, what’s FAINT PROMISE OF RAIN about? (On a side note, Dear Readers, I've read it and loved it.)

My book is set in 16^th century India, and revolves around a little girl, Adhira, born into a family of Hindu temple dancers just as a new Muslim emperor takes the throne. The story is about this girl caught between her tradition, her artistry, and her family’s fear of change, all set against the vivid sights and sounds of the Rajasthan desert.

Book Blurb: 

It is 1554 in the desert of Rajasthan, an outpost of resistance against a new Mughal emperor. In a family of Hindu temple dancers a daughter, Adhira, must carry on her family’s sacred tradition. Her father, against his wife and sons’ protests, insists Adhira “marry” the temple deity and give herself to a wealthy patron. But after one terrible evening, she makes a brave choice that carries her family’s story and their dance to a startling new beginning. Told from the memory of this exquisite dancer and filled with the sounds, sights and flavors of the Indian desert, this is the story of a family and a girl caught between art, duty, and fear in a changing world. (Available here and here.)

2.     What’s your favorite line from the novel? Why?

“In Rajasthan, where I was born, it is possible for a child of five never to have seen rain.” 
This was the first line I wrote, and the one line that never changed, despite at least a dozen manuscript revisions. I was reading a guidebook to Rajasthan and found this anecdote, that it rains so rarely in Jaisalmer, the city of Rajasthan in which the story is set, that in the days of royalty, the children’s rooms in the palaces were painted with black and blue cloud designs so that when it finally did rain, they would not be afraid. This was such a powerful and magical image, I had to write it down. I had no idea then that I was about to write a book. Even less a set of four books!

Writing is often compared to magic...hence it goes to show :)

3.   Now tell us how you become a writer? 

I think I always was a writer. I just didn’t really admit it to myself. My family is full of people who write, mostly in the academic world. Growing up, I knew implicitly that writing was a worthy pursuit. But I also had many other interests. Like many writers, I wrote in a journal, I wrote stories and poems I never showed anyone. I wrote a lot of letters. I received compliments on my writing in college and graduate school as I studied international development and urban planning. I wrote some more as a freelance writer, still in those fields, still not really considering myself a “writer.” And then I started studying kathak, a classical dance form of India, and I discovered a whole world, a whole history. I researched this history as I helped my dance teacher found a non-profit, Chhandika, dedicated to this storytelling art, and that same year I traveled back to India and read that anecdote I mentioned, and suddenly everything came together, and I was writing a book set at a particular junction in the history of India and of kathak. I realized the story was there, I just needed to put words to it.

4.  Do you have any strange writing habits?

It depends who you ask. If you ask my mother, then yes. I tend to do my creative writing in cafés. I find it much harder to block out the silence of, say, a library, than the noisy hubbub of a coffee shop. The quiet feels oppressive, like it’s taunting me, making me too aware of the long pauses in my typing. The hum of voices and activity is more forgiving, and reminds me there is a world out there. Sometimes I place a little bronze Buddha statuette by my computer. A good friend gave it to me, as a way of helping me focus in the midst of activity. I find it helps create a don’t-bother-me bubble around me, averting unwanted conversations with some of the dubious characters who hang out at coffee shops. You know, like me. On occasion, it does invite a conversation, but I find those people who ask me about it tend to be interesting folk.

That's not so strange. Rowlings wrote HP in coffee shops too.

5.  Why write what you write?

The setting and main lines of the story for FAINT PROMISE OF RAIN came to me. Not in some divine epiphany type of way, more like I just unearthed, in the process of researching something else, a story that was itching to be told. So, thankfully, I never really had to ask myself—what do I want to write? That would have been terrifying. And it was a stroke of luck, I think, that my genre has turned out to be historical fiction. I’m a gal who likes structure—I am trained as an infrastructure planner, after all—and historical fiction gives me an established framework within which to set my stories.

6.  Which is the best character you have written? Is he or she your favorite? Why?

I have to admit I kind of fell in love with Hari Dev, who was to be a minor character but then grew into a complex, sweet and unique being who needed more space in the story. I’ve heard from several readers that they adore him, too. His mind is fascinating (yes, I love him for his mind!), and his relationship with his younger sister, Adhira, the story’s narrator, is heartwarming. Is he my best character? It’s hard for me to say. It’s like asking me which of my children is the best.

7.  Now to the non-creative aspects of writing. What is your best marketing tip?

Just be yourself, and be true to yourself. Really. I know it sounds hokey, but it’s so important. Understand your own personality, your strengths, your weaknesses. Don’t force yourself to do things that suck energy away from you. There are so, so many things one can do in marketing and promotion, just focus on those that energize you.

8.  What can we expect from you next?

Assuming I figure out how to fit writing back into my life after the flurry of launching my first book, you can expect another work of historical fiction. This one will be set in the sparkling city of Lucknow in the 19^th century, at the very end of the Mughal Empire and the start of the British Raj. It will be the second of my set of four books. The main characters are a frustrated courtesan and kathak dancer, Malika, and her half-French son, Etienne. The story takes place over four years right before, during and immediately after the Rebellion (sometimes known as the Great Mutiny, depending on whose history you are reading) of Hindu and Muslim Indian soldiers against the British.

I know that event: The Mutiny of 1857. It's like tattooed into my brain as I studied it in high school and for a very major exam. Wow, first Kathak and now this. It seems as if the settings of your novels are connected to me. :) 

9.   To end lets try a Rapid Fire round. Your answer should be the first word/s that pops into your head when you think of:

LIFE: a gift

PASSION: necessary

HERO: prolific and socially conscious writers

LOVE: peace

HATE: strife

Thank you once again, Anjali, for being here and talking to us. It was fun!

Connect with her:

WEBSITE  TWITTER  FACEBOOK  GOOGLE+

AUTHOR'S CIRCLE welcomes SUDNYA SHROFF.

On a daily basis, we all wear many, many hats, but it has never been more apparent than with my Author’s Circle guest today. 

Meet author, artist, fashion designer, SUDNYA SHROFF to talk about writing, life, art and her imagination. UNRAVELING is her first novel.

Hi Sudnya, thanks for dropping in and letting us have a peek into your mind.

1. Let’s begin with your book. What’s Unraveling about? Is the storyline based on personal experience? If yes, how?

‘Unraveling’ is the metaphoric unraveling of the protagonist Shalini who gets taken hostage during the 2008 Taj bombings, and during her captivity realizes she was already hostage to her life’s choices. The story is purely fictional and has geographical and cultural influences from all the regions I have lived and grown up in.

2. How did you become a writer? In other words, tell us YOUR STORY.

In a previous lifetime, I used to be an electrical engineer. Hardware and software design were what I studied, researched, created and basically breathed for over a decade. Design of any kind has been and continue to be my fundamental driving passion and a creative outlet. It has also been an instrument for my curious mind to explore the universe and my place in it.  In 2002, with my husband providing the wind beneath my wings, I embarked on my exclusive journey through the arts portal to further deepen my understanding of my human experience. For me, writing is a natural extension of painting. When words fail me, colors come to my rescue. I use both tools to help me gain, and also express, increasing insights. It took me almost a decade before my work found recognition. Since 2011, my art has travelled across California, New York and India. 

Flaming City

3. Why write a book? I mean you obviously are a creative person, but there are very few artists who’ve written books too.

End of Love

When I find myself troubled by internal conflict, I find writing to be an excellent tool to achieve clarity. My stories usually coming from that place of attempting to reach a-ha moments when experience precedes expression. Writing the novel came at a point of my life when I needed a whole lot of emotional housecleaning. Painting, which to me is my daily form of meditation, had already served the purpose of bringing me calm. However, I still needed the lucidity that is shaped by coherent thoughts and words. This was the driving force that brought me to writing, and without intention, the story evolved into a novel under the mentorship of my creative writing professor and writer/editor Lynn Stegner.

4. What is Dosanjh Shroff?

In Tangles

Dosanjh Shroff is a contemporary fashion line startup that uses textiles made exclusively from my fine art prints. Dosanjh is the maiden last name of my co-founder Surinder Dosanjh Kang. Dosanjh Shroff was established in 2012 in the San Francisco Bay Area and now travels for shows around the world. 

We have our online store at www.dosanjhshroff.com and also have a physical design studio located in Menlo Park, CA.

5. What does your day look like?

A typical weekday looks like  this -

Unlearning Obedience

Breakfast/school drop offs until 8am, write/paint/stay locked up in my art studio until noon, Dosanjh Shroff work after lunch until 4, meal preparation/homework with kids/dinner with family until 10pm, chat with my husband until we fall asleep, often wake up in the middle of the night to go back into my studio to continue/complete a train of thought in my work :)

Repeat!

I get the repeat! :)

6. What inspires you?

People, great minds, powerful thoughts, nature, music, stories, poetry, children, kindness, moments of grace, Leonard Cohen…

7. What’s your favorite book and why?

Impossible to pin-point one single book! Like anybody and everybody, I have a long long list but I’ll keep it brief :)

Trailblazer

Usually the book I am buried in at the moment is my love in that moment! The most recent one that I enjoyed reading thoroughly was The Accidental Universe by Alan Lightman. I am intrigued and curious about the physics behind our Universe and its workings and I have been devouring over the last five years as many books that attempt to explain this from a range of authors/scientists/journalists like Richard Feynman, Carl Sagan, Richard Dawkins, Stephen Hawking, Michio Kaku, Alan Lightman, Maria Popova, late Christopher Hitchens, Alan Watts, Einstein, Walter Isaacson etc.

In fiction, I am currently reading K. Anis Ahmed’s collection of short stories and am savoring every moment in my introduction to contemporary Bangladesh. I was so impressed with him during the panel discussion at IAAC in NYC, I bought the book and started reading it right away. I have also enjoyed reading over the years works by Kiran Nagarkar, Wallace Stegner, Pablo Neruda, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Sarojini Naidu, Leo Tolstoy, Leonard Cohen, Enid Blyton, Jane Austen, Suketu Mehta, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, Thrity Umrigar, Jhumpa Lahiri, Ann Lamott, P.G. Wodehouse, Alan Lightman (yes he writes both fiction and non-fiction!), etc.

8. Who is your favorite artist and why?

I have three! Leonardo Da Vinci, Albert Einstein and Leonard Cohen in chronological order only.

Da Vinci, famously known to be a polymath, produced a huge body of work at the intersection of multiple disciplines like art and science. He was a painter, sculptor, architect, musician, mathematician, engineer, inventor, anatomist, geologist, cartographer, botanist and writer (yes crazy, but true ;))!! Wonderful things truly do indeed happen at multidisciplinary intersections. And stories like his have served as good inspiration points when I have contemplated risks of working across a variety of disciplines without compromising the depth or quality of my work in each of them.

Einstein is my hero when it comes to thought experiments in theoretical physics and philosophy of science. I don’t claim to understand all his theories in their entirety but I plan on never giving up hope :) I have been reading about him and his work for a very long time. His love for the violin and classical music resonates with my love for similar music and the piano. His human frailty and imperfections while producing monumental inflections in science and general everyday philosophy, all of this without giving up his sly wit, makes him an extremely endearing personality for me.

Ivory Dream

Cohen, even as he turned 80 this September, continues creating phenomenal work — an amazing poet, writer, artist, singer and a musician. His ability to string words together just right — to weigh into an emotion and present it with the delicateness it deserves without taking away its depth — continues to blow me away time after time. His sincerity and authenticity also inspire me to remain true to my own voice.

All three artists’ ability to produce and introduce phenomenally mind opening works through the instrument of art and philosophy is what strikes me as most outstanding. They also display that delicate balance between doing profoundly meaningful work while not taking themselves too seriously, a combination that I aspire!

9. What medium of expression do you find the easiest to create? Why?

Painting - it helps that I find it very calming as well :)

10. What is more difficult: putting colors together or words? Why?

Stringing words together to express just exactly what I want say — not too much that it’s exaggerated nor too little that the nuance is lost — is what I find most challenging.

My paintings, on the other hand, are an internal snapshot of my emotions. They are what they are and I find it much easier to trust my intuition when I paint than when I write.

11. Which is the best character you’ve written? Is he or she your favorite? Why?

Aarush, the son of the protagonist in my novel Unraveling, is my favorite character. The book has chapters that alternate from two points of view, Aarush and the protagonist Shalini. I modeled Aarush vaguely around what I thought my then ten year old, Akhil, would be when in high school. It was fun having Akhil read my chapters and get his feedback about Aarush and his evolving story.

12. Naturally, in part you are all your characters (they come from your head) but which of your characters is the most like you? Or resonates in you the most? Why?

Shalini resonates the most with my personality.  This was my first novel, so as much as it is completely fictional in the story line, the protagonist’s emotions and reactions to the fictional situations all came from what I thought I would have, had I been in each circumstance.

13. Do you have a favorite painting? Why?

No I don’t!

Dragon's Breath

14. What do you wish to convey through your writing and your art?

That we all are just like each other. That there is no emotion or experience that is unique to any single person. That somewhere along the trajectory of our lives we will all have a unique set of cards dealt to us — but how we love, laugh, live, lie, hurt, give, take, grow —  depends totally on our state of mind and our perspective. That our mind is a very powerful place and you can either leverage it to be resilient or allow it to destroy. The power of the former is what I want to convey.

15. What can we expect from you next in both?

Both my paintings and writing continue to happen on a daily basis. I hope to have my next work of fiction completed in the next year or so. I have a few art shows a year which will also continue. My body of fine art can be viewed in its entirety on my FACEBOOK Page.

16. To end lets try a Rapid Fire round. Your answer should be the first word/s that pops into your head when you think of:

LIFE: is about love and vibrancy

PASSION: is my breath

HERO: is every person whose act of grace and kindness I’m at the receiving end of

LOVE: completely and unconditionally

HATE: indifference

Thank you once again, Sudnya, for being here and talking to me. It was vibrant, just like your art!

Link to her WEBSITE.

Buy the Book: Unraveling

Write to Sudnya at sudnya@sudnyashroff.com if you live in India or the US and she'll be happy to mail you a free copy of her book.