“Sojourn – A Woman In Exile”


“Eleven years had passed, and, still she stood where she had left him. The places had changed. The surroundings had changed. The people had changed. Age had changed her as well, but her eyes remained the same, hidden beneath the lightly smudged kohl. Only it seemed, that they had lost their light. That spark had been dimmed the day she left him behind.”

This is a simple story of belief, trust and self-sacrifice in the very ardour of love for someone who is lost to you forever. It is the relationship between life and the individual that this tale seeks to unravel in a mere thousand words.

Even though there is a surge of love stories in the market, there are very few stories that will touch your heart and have elements of surrealism and eternity in them. Sojourn is one such love story where the author delves into the past life of a thirty-six year old woman, in whose heart is locked away a romance of her time.

Now this is exciting. Very, very exciting. Being an Author now, I must try to subdue this excitement and replace it with modesty.

Ah! Yes, I’m about to publish my big project in the next two months. So what? I’m a writer. I must not brag. But I’m sorry to say that deep inside, in a very cosy corner of my heart, I’m yearning to dance and shout out my joy to everyone. Both to people I know and people I don’t. I just can’t seem to maintain the facade of a modest individual who is balanced and mature because of course she wrote a book!

Bleh. Who cares what everyone has to think about me? I worked hard to put together a novel and I shall now work hard to enjoy this moment to the fullest.And, and this is the first time I’m going to talk about being an author and about my first book.

Of course, there’s a lot of apprehension as I face reality and think about all those things that may or may not happen. I mean, every writer puts in time and thought in the books they write, but not all books are able to cross the line and enter the list of best sellers. There are times when we find a book to be a raging best seller, but when we actually read it, it often leaves us wondering what the public saw in that book.

Being an author now would deprive me of the privilege I held as a reader. As an unanswerable and rightful reader who could express any kind of opinion on any book, whatsoever. And this is exactly what I fear for my book, a book that I have weaved with utmost care and love, carving out the words on the dry pages of blue diary with blue ink. I fear how the reader in all his/her unabashed reading will fail to see the hard work that goes within the entire process. All they have is the narrative without a definite context. As is often said, a book has as many interpretations, as many readers it has.

“Sojourn” has a similar function. I have narrated the story in third person narrative, but the end is open-ended. I left it that way deliberately. I didn’t want to impose any kind of mindset onto the readers. I want them to realize the potential of each story and how it can be interpreted in numerous ways. In as many ways as the reader wants.

Though this is a love story, the element of romance remains in the background. It evolves majorly as a story about relationships, between parents and children, or between husband and wife, between lovers or even friends as of that matter. I’m a little stingy in giving away too much of the story because I feel like I’m giving away everything. I shall put up the blurb for my readers to read. I hope they like it!

Cover to be revealed soon 🙂

Sign Out.

Words that Paint #13

We are different because we were made different.
We are different because we were brought up differently.
We are different because we are two different human beings.

But we chose to fall in love with each other and that’s what makes us similar.
You can choose your perspective either to mourn or celebrate this relationship.


Write. Publish. Repeat.

22 February 2016 was the day I first conceived the plot of my novel, releasing sometime in 2017. Happy Birthday to that!
It has been almost a year and I’m still not through with the publication process. I know, I know, it takes a lot of time. Some even say that I’m lucky enough to get it done within a year. They knew of instances where it took more than 2 years!

Let me make it clear that we’re talking about Traditional Publishing. The kind of publishing where the author has to beg for approval from literary agents and publishers, and is completely at their mercy for his/her book to get published. If, however the book manages to sell, the same author gets a tiny amount from the price of the book, say 10% while the publisher enjoys the rest.
Why? Why on Earth do you think that such an unfair transaction is preferred over Self Publishing where the author gets over 50% of the price of his book on book sales. The only difference being that he/she has to pay a certain amount at the start of the publication process. 

Now, I am a Writer. Yes, I can call myself one. I’ve published before and I’m going to publish again. This time it’s a novel. A story of characters and their relationships with each other, in the most basic sense. It’s funny. I’m happy, but I’m scared at the same time. I’m reluctant to give over my work to the pruning eyes of a reader. But I’m also excited about the same thing. Oh. Writers are weird and one must never trust what they say. They talk in Paradox.
However, I forgot what I was going to write about in this post.
Sign Out. 

One Day

OLD KISS by Leonid Afremov

All I want to do
Is to be with you.
Maybe, not everyday
But just one  day.

There are hurdles that I don’t want to see.
There are weaknesses rooted inside me.
All my prayers have you in them.
Amidst all the pain, you’re the only gem.

May I just borrow,
That one single day
A cure to my sorrow,
Your love coming my way.



Image Credits – Google Images

Being born into that family,
She was no more than a parasite.
Looking for means to feed on others’ liberty,
And failing to do so when denied.

Let her spend her life in tears,
Wasted and labelled ‘Useless’.
Life was worth living had she wanted to,
Unnecessary domination ruined her existence.

Fuck them, who thought she was weak,
Yes, she was because where she belonged was not her strength.
Her strength lay in the arms of the man she loved,
Yet could not muster courage to speak his name.

She met him in private, where nobody knew.
But that was all that she did out of love.
For who could give her strength to break those fetters,
But only Time and some Love.



“Soul Freedom Chain” by Ishrath Humairah

Certainly, I didn’t see this coming,
I’m sure you didn’t either.
Those signs weren’t enough alarming,
As is the situation that stands hither.

Everything happened step by step,
As if all of this was destined.
From losing interest to crying and fret,
I lose my mind in a second.

I fought with Others, I fought with You,
Nothing could make me better.
With time, I realized all this wasn’t new,
Long bound was I by this fetter.

Hoping You could revive me out of this malaise,
I cling to You for the smallest support.
But your words unnerved me to unease,
Words of mockery from the one I dote.

I’ve realized my position, if not the cure,
Came alone in this world, shall leave alone for sure.