A to Z Challenge: Wajood-The Identity

Letter W for Wajood is written as part of ‪#‎AtoZChallenge‬: Blogging from A to Z April Challenge. It’s heating up now! It’s climax and guarantee for heart-pounding action.

In Hindi, Wajood means identity.

Wajood-The Identity

I twirl at the surgical light in the operation theatre. A rehash of memory plays like a movie flashback to the struggling days in Mumbai when the security pushed me away from the gate of film producers with lathi and flung my portfolio on the ground. I picked my trampled and crushed pictures smeared with mud and footsteps. The imposters posing as agents who fled with my hard earned money in lakhs after promising to get me roles. I slowly sink in coma.

TV channels are flashing breaking news and newspapers are printing Stop Press. Doctors and PR agencies are giving sound-bytes to confirm, “It’s with deep regret that we announce that superstar Akhil Kumar has succumbed to bullets and has been declared dead in the morning. The doctors tried their level best to revive him but fate had it their way. We must say that he was a very strong patient and fought till his last breath.”

The mafia lord, Bhai Saab is celebrating my death inside the hotel with a huge party and alcohol flowing. After all, he is safe and no one can expose him now. He is cuddling to the singing sensation, Sanjana his new muse who has no qualm dancing to his tune. He rules forever on the film industry.

The new reigning Queen of the film industry is performing to a sizzling dance, ‘Yeh Raat’ to entertain the underworld and Arab guests making the most powerful deal that will shatter the city. A storm hits the party like a tornado when shard of glasses swirls like an earthquake, shaking the hotel’s foundation. The glass designed structure splinters in various directions with force and the hotel lobby is crumbling into dust when a car violently cracks into the wall with thundering force. The glass separation that sits between the lobby and the VIP lounge splits into the air as the car flies inside the party.

The powerful engine revs up and crush everything on its way; the guests, bar, and alcohol on display.

The high flyer party stands as a mute spectator to automatic gun firing from the automatic car and the mafia inside the hotel. Human corpses are lying cold on the floor where blood and alcohol makes a deadly combination of human cocktail.

Two long hands stretch out of the car window and grabs the new crowned Queen and Sanjana by the hair and on the spur of the moment, two shining black shoes surfaces out of the car with the door wide open. A gun is fixed on the head of the sexy sirens.

The mafia lord’s mouth is wide open. “How can this be possible? We killed you?” The guests are running for their lives shouting, ‘Bhoot! Bhoot! Run!’ Akhil Kumar laughs hysterically, “I am dead to the world but not to you. After all, I resurrected to send you in the heaven of hell. Bhai Saab! It’s your last party on earth and your bimbos will give you company. Don’t worry.”

I pull the trigger on the temple of the Queen of acting and my once torrid companion Sanjana, whispering into her ear ‘Salirophilia’. Both are flung down and their inert bodies lie on the floor, swimming in blood and expensive alcohol.

I wink at Bhai Saab. In the last 24 hours, DCP has given me a new wajood (identity) that would change lives forever.  Akhil Kumar is no more and the world is mourning him. I don’t remember him. “You are no longer a superstar. Wipe them all. I will clear your name. As you are set on the new mission, television channels will air the real face of Bhai Saab,” the DCP told me in the hospital. “You will save every kid exploited by the mafia and corrupt faces.”

I slowly got up from the hospital bed and promised to DCP, “I swear to you that duniya ki koi bhi tank at Mujhe rok nahin Sakta aaj (No power in the world will stop me from finishing them). In a fling of seconds, I was out to get them, driving the bulletproof and specially designed car for the mission. I have left behind showbiz and wear my new identity, far away from everyone. A strong sense of peace engulfs me. Today, bodies of evil souls will fall. Bhai Saab takes a backward step. I saunter in his direction.

A to Z Challenge: Vanquish the Victor

The post ‘Vanquish the Victor’ is written as part of ‪#‎AtoZChallenge‬: Blogging from A to Z April Challenge. Hope you will like today’s post and brickbats or flowers, bring it on.

V for Vanquish the Victor

I sit inside the dark police cell for hours biting my nails and counting the tipping point on my wrist watch every second. The rustic metallic door creaks open and a short officer, sporting a thick moustache and wearing Khaki uniform steps in.

He offers me a plate of samosas and gulab jamun, “Have a bite Sir and drink some tea. I take a tea sip.  He says with an expressionless face, “There is no case registered against you and there was no better way for us to meet. Bhai Saab is planning to plot his revenge by killing you in public.  As DCP, I have already made secret arrangement so that my men protect you from the mafia who is making the city a living hell.”

I am speechless and stop short of gulping the tea. “You must be wondering why this favour? ” he asks. I nod.

“Sir, I am a father. I have a daughter. You saved my daughter from those demons at the farm house and it’s my duty to protect a good man. When you walk out from here, go straight to your shoot but tread cautiously. Don’t utter a single word to anyone,” his voice wobbles with emotion.

I drive straight to the shoot where I spot a huge crowd waiting for me with dark and saffron flags. I sense trouble. The police have put barricades and having a tough time controlling the hostile crowd shouting, ‘Down with Akhil Kumar…Akhi Kumar chor hai…saala chutiya…burn this traitor alive.’ My posters are getting torn and burn in public glare.

It takes me a while to maintain my calm and composure. The AD gently touches me on my shoulder, “Sir, shot is ready.” Today, the people who once loved me are turning into my biggest enemy. A tale of ‘Vanquish the Victor.’

I wear sunglasses to hide my moist eyes and intensely scan the crowd baying for my blood. Like Paulo Coelho once said, ‘The Winner Stands Alone’. I still remember my first shoot as the crowned prince when I got down from my brand new SUV shooting at Fort.

The crowd went into a frenzied state and shoving each other to approach and touch me, yearning for a handshake. They would hold their palms together and cup it to their faces so that the moment would never fade away.  Girls would shout on top of their voices, “Akhil kiss me” and throwing themselves on me for a peck on my cheek and lip, almost forcing to scribble my autograph on their hands, arms and backs. It was the Akhil Kumar tattoo. The adulation and the ripple of sensation that I created everywhere where throng of fans shouting my name, ‘Akhil! Akhil!’ propelled me on more than one occasion to sneak by the back door. I was the undisputed king of showbiz.

It’s the same spot today. The crowd suddenly went into a tizzy and running amok with people shouting that feels like a heart pounding climax of an action film.

On the spur of the moment, the police van dashes inside the shooting location and burst into the tent that gives shade to the film crew and film equipment flying like fireworks in the air. The crowd is fleeing away from the shot where I can hear blasting gunshots.

I am in dismay and shock. I can’t react or move. A bullet shoves past my chest and another one hit me on the back and the stomach. Maya is in tears and shouts, ‘Help!! Help! He has been shot.’ I stumble on my knee and before lying flat on the ground. The DCP and his officers pull me with all their might and exert their physical force to shield me inside the police van.

My eyelids are half close and feel a thumping sound inside my body reaching the heart and brain. I hear the police siren and the DCP shouting to the constable, ‘Storm ahead and break everything on the way. We must reach Breach Candy Hospital in less than 15 minutes. The police van breaks the traffic signal, swerving and screeching its way in the crazy traffic moving at snail pace.  The police van hustles its way towards the hospital lobby and almost breaks the door at the emergency. The cops pull me out and I can faintly hear the DCP voice choking, “Emergency. No fucking questions or FIR. Get him inside the operation theatre or I will nail you in some case.”

I can feel the cold hand of Maya, caressing my hair and tears rolling on my forehead as I am ushered on the trolley bed inside the operation theatre. I can sense the lifeless body muttering, ‘Vanquish the victor’.

U for Under dog

This post ‘U for Underdog’ is written as part of ‪#‎AtoZChallenge‬: Blogging from A to Z April Challenge.


I hush inside the conference hall at the ‘By the Backbay Hotel’ surrounded by the sea at Marine Drive. The bevy of press reporters and TV reporters are speaking loudly and suddenly go into hush mode when they saw me.

The gazillion of cameras inches me closer on my face and I feel mutilated like grenades and guns from all quarters. I take a pause and sip water from the Bisleri bottle. My eyes look around the room and can sense that the media is ready to pounce on me, with faces sniggering on me. After all, an underdog is everyone’s favorite punch bag.

I say, “Have you ever wondered what makes an underdog so successful yet is the most hated? I know something about it.” The room falls silent. My PR team and Maya looks at me agape, wondering what has got into me.

“The underdog doesn’t have the right to be successful on his own terms. I am not a superstar with a tragic story that makes me a story worth writing on tabloids. My struggle, the real one is unwritten for no one, except me knows about it. I am here to speak the truth, nothing but the truth. Hath the fury,” I valiantly say.

“I am confessing about my crimes. I am guilty of compromising my way to the top and was used at my own will by people like Bhai Saab. I was the toy boy of Meera who was in cohort with Bhai Saab and transported packets containing drugs on his behalf. I was not aware of the content but when I did, it was too late. Money is an addiction and power corrupts minds. The more I wanted to stop it, the more I got suck into it. I couldn’t stop things. After all, it was a question of surviving. I compromised on my dignity and self-respect to make it big in the industry.”

I took a pause and continue, “I was blackmailed into doing things but for how long I can hide my crime. I am guilty of being silent. I acted in movies financed by the mafia on Bhai Saab’s request. You know why: He is the biggest mafia lord in the country. Producers were gunned down. Bhai Saab is behind several crimes. You will recall about the fire on film sets but it was not an accident. Rather a premeditated act to claim millions where innocent people died. I am at the mercy of corrupt politicians and the mafia.”

“There is another lie I blatantly told everyone. It’s true that I lost my memory and I am now fine. I am far from being a role model. I make a request to you all: Investigate on people like Bhai Saab who is corrupting the industry and exploited young wanna be actors and actresses. But, I warn him that I am going to take on him fearlessly and expose the truth on the table. I was blinded by fame and power but not anymore.”

The hall is witness to a flurry of chaos with reporters sending a barrage of questions like bullets of fire.

TV reporter 1: Are you saying such things under pressure?

I smile, “Which pressure are you speaking about? I am speaking the truth. One has to be fearless and nothing shall prevent me to walk the path of fire. If I was scared, I would not be sitting here and confessing how I was part of the crimes.

Tabloid reporter 2: Are you not scared of death?

I start speaking when another journalist made a jibe at me. “He must be preparing for his next role, confusing between reel and real life,” she remarks.

I am seething with anger, “I would like to tell you all that nothing will cow me down. I already took my decision when I saw innocent children being trafficked by people like Bhai Saab and it was me who put the fire there to escape and save lives. I risked my own life to save so many. Do you think I will be scared of death?

A fury lady journalist shouts, “He should be hanged and in the eyes of the law, he is a criminal. Are you aware what you are saying can be used against you by the court of law?”

I say, “It’s your right to judge me. I am ready to face consequences of my actions and if I am here today to face you all, it means I am ready to face the music.

A young girl raises her hand, “Sir! We have just obtained information that Bhai Saab has been released from jail.”

At the same time, a team of police officers walk inside the chaotic conference room gone berserk.

.The DCP tells, “Sir, you are under arrest. Can you accompany us to the station and cooperate. We don’t want to use force.”

I calmly nod, “Let’s go.”

My security follows me in another car. I can hear Maya shouting, “Yes! He is being arrested. Get me the best lawyer in town, now.” The TV crew and press reporters are following us and I can see camera zooming on the police jeep.





A to Z: Trail the trail

The post ‘Trail the trail’ is written as part of  ‪#‎AtoZChallenge‬: Blogging from A to Z April Challenge. I am doing a novella and we are reaching the climax.


Trail the trail

I slowly open my eyes and veer from dark to blurred and real image, surrounded by white wall and green curtain. Maya is sitting on a chair and gets up to cheerfully greet me. “It’s going to be alright, now,” she says.

I feel unusually at peace with myself and the world seems to be a paradise. I hold her before saying, thank you. She slaps me playfully and says there is no need for formality.

What she is going to say would blow my mind and shatter me into tiny pieces. Maya holds my shoulder and takes my name, ‘Akhil!’. Her words ring in compassion: “You gotta fight it out raw and battle your foes.” She spoke with the confidence of a corporate honcho and ups the tone in her voice.

“You didn’t lose your memory on the fancy of nature or God. After all, Mother India played havoc with you…the shot of Sarilophilia was concocted to conspire with your memory.”

I jump off the hospital bed, “What do you mean?” She laughs, “Sanjana claims to be your girlfriend but she is not. She dances to the tune of Bhai Saab operating from jail. They are after your life since the farm house fracas and the mafia won’t leave you in peace. You’ve been poisoned so that you don’t remember anything and they plan to kill you.”

She walks away and turns her back with a mischievous smile, “Right guess. Everyone in your flat is part of the conspiracy. You gotta slug it out for Bhai Saab is the mafia kingpin. The fight between him and his pals are all made out to make you relish in false victory.”

Maya flings the TV remote control on my lap and urges me to watch live 24 X 7 Live. It’s Breaking News. “Revealed. Akhil Kumar is part of a dreaded gang…a news that has sent the film industry into a tizzy and has shocked his fans…they are burning his effigy everywhere. Has he fallen from grace?”

The TV anchor seems to be bitten by fury when she asks, “Drugs and arms trafficking. Brushing shoulders with underworld and terrorists. Is this the real face of the Hindi film superstar? In a document, senior actor Bhai Saab who is in jail reveals how Akhil Kumar is involved in crimes and spends his time with prostitutes. Mere allegations or reality bite? Time will tell. But, one thing we can tell our viewers that the odds are stacked against the superstar alleging to kill the wife of film producer Meera with whom he had a torrid affair. He used her for personal gains and killed her. Is the country’s youth icon and bravery awardee a maniac?”

I feel dizzy and my knees are weak. My voice is choking. I tell Maya: “It means they are on a trail to destroy me. Perhaps it’s time to slug it out. Let it get dirty. It’s the time to resurrect myself. I have been party to their crimes. I will fight Bhai Saab and his bunch of mafia. I will either destroy their trail or be engulfed by flames. Let the game begin. Call a press conference now.”

Maya tries to reason with me, “But, Akhil…”

I am adamant, “I say NOW.”

Maya presses her lips, “Okay!” before she storms out of the room and shouts on her cell phone. “An urgent press conference…I don’t care. It’s in one hour. Get everyone ready and I want to see all media guys. Pull your socks. Beef up all security and bring the Black cat commandos.”

I chortle to myself and slap my face, caught in a conundrum of emotions, “Ab aayega asli mazaa…the fun starts now…trail the trail.”





A to Z Challenge: Salirophilia

The post S for Salirophilia (AC) is written as part of ‪#‎AtoZChallenge‬: Blogging from A to Z April Challenge. For those who came late, I am doing a novella on film star who lost his memory and is helped by a college girl to face his harsh reality. It’s  a grim and dark journey facing himself on how he conquer his demons to redeem himself. I promise high voltage entertainment and drama that will take your breath away. My funda: Some of the stories have no logic and leave your brains somewhere else if you wanna enjoy the stories:)

Going by the guideline of A to Z, I am putting Adult Content (AC) for today’s letter post since it’s a sensual romance.


It took me a while to recover from the burns at the hospital. Bhai Saab has been arrested and charged with children trafficking, underworld activities, and the mafia is on his heels. He made them suffer a lot financially. Meera has been charred to death. My crime is shrouded in cloud and blurred under the thick smoke of Bravery Award where the media terms me as Real Life Hero. I am honoured by every State Government , TV channels and film organisations.

It’s redemption. But, I wonder whether my conscience is clear. I was party to some crimes where young kids are dying with drugs every single day. The mafia has gone underground. But, I am sure that they will come for my skin and Bhai Saab won’t leave me in peace. Perhaps, it’s the time to run away from myself.

The joints and alcohol soothe my nerves. My eyes scan Sanjana Khan at the party where she is performing in my honor for bravery. I am already high on alcohol where I am enthralled on the new singing sensation in town who won singing competitions and crooning some of her favorite super hit songs in films.

She fixes me with intensity as we dance away during the night. Unabashedly, Sanjana hand slides inside my shirt and caressing my chest, biting my ear with her tongue. You cannot stay away from her. She has a magic, aura, and enigmatic quality. We’ve been spending nights in my apartment.

“I wanna eat you raw,” Sanjana winks.

“You are the experimental type. I like wild beasts a lot,” I am smitten by her charm.

She breaks into a cackle. “How a brave man that save children is getting knocked off his perch. Am I the culprit?

I caress her face with my fingers, intertwined in her hair. Her eyes are hiding something and I am powerless by the hot intensity exuded by her. I am carried away and besotted by her charm and sexiness. She is a myth, perhaps.

Sanjana removes her sandals and pulls off her dress, presses her legs on my chest and tears apart my white shirt.  “The dirty game starts now,” she seductively laughs. “Salirophilia.”

I am losing my balance and feel overpowered, emasculated. “Oh! Yes! Salirophilia.”

We dirty ourselves, smearing our faces and naked bodies with dry colors and sprouting mud by rubbing each other in unchartered zones. We dirty our hair with her fancy makeup and beggars would look better than us. It’s a fetish we wanna do since a long time.

We roar with passion and smack each other fighting to dip our legs in the mud basket placed in the room before getting into the act. “It’s called the Salirophilia special,” she seductively sways her hip when she pours the concocted drink into my mouth. It’s sweet as hell.

Oh! Gosh! She fakes a smile and her naked body is growing tense. “Baby!! Our Salirophilia is making me forget that I have to perform at a show in an hour”.  She pulls her red skirt in the rush and bends on the bed, tasting the corners of my lip with her tongue before disappearing.

I am in a trance with the Salirophlia Special Drink reaching the altar of my spirit. My body is dirty, smeared with colors, mud and sand. Something is scripted on the patch of dirt on my chest. It skips my mind for I am high on this drug, Sanjana.

Postscript: The word Salirophilia refers to people who have this fetish of getting dirty during sex by smearing makeup, messing hair up or ripping clothing. Instead of showering before sex…Try it at home at your own risk, my tiny warning.





FAN: Shah Rukh Khan rises above the script in a stupendous act

Film Review: FAN

Cast: Shah Rukh Khan as Gaurav Chandna and Aryan Khanna, , Waluscha de Sousa, Sayani Gupta, Shriya Pilgaonkar, Deepika Amin and Yogendra Tiku.

Producer: Yashraj Films

Director: Maneesh Sharma

Rating: Three and a half

There are adulated stars treated like demi-gods by fans drooling over them, cutting hands and worshipping them with blood and in temples. When the idol worship is superseded by obsession, it hinges dangerously where they became a threat to the lives of the superstars. Every day, there are thousands who flock to Mumbai, nurturing dreams to be Vijay, Rahul or Aryan Khanna, for that matter in Fan. Maneesh Sharma and Shah Rukh Khan’s latest flick, Fan, try to explore the relationship between an obsessed fan, Gaurav and his idol Aryan Khanna (Shah Rukh Khan), which he worships like crazy. It forms the backbone of the story line how blind love for the idol soon turns into hatred.

Gaurav Chandna is a Dilli ka chokra who swears over his idol Aryan Khanna, calling him Senior and wins a competition that lands him in front of his superstar’s home at Mannat in Mumbai.  He goes to any extent to protect his hero, by erupting into the van of a rival star and threatening him. Our fan doesn’t accept no for an answer and is the spoilt child of his hero, in his own eyes. The star refuses to give him five minutes of his life and humiliates him. Gaurav is heartbroken and decides it’s payback time.

Shah Rukh Khan is simply stupendous, magnificent and brilliant as Gaurav and plays the star Aryan Khanna in an endearing manner. He sinks into the skin of the character, injecting pain, angst and evil shades that he portrays with gusto. He rides high over and above the script which is disjointed in the second half to make Fan a winner. The film belongs to King Khan who delivers one of his best performances in his glorious film career.

The first half has pace and is engaging and but loses steam in the second half. The script is largely at fault in the second half and borrows heavily on cliché. The obsessive Gaurav impersonates Aryan and doesn’t hesitate in groping a woman or for that matter, The superstar, Aryan Khanna, battles an image that he puts for the public and can be ruthless in private is an oft-repeated and often heard public narrative. A larger than life image that is often difficult to be preserved! The slick narration is missing and edgy fast paced treatment in the first half is suddenly lost after the interval.

The crisp editing, dialogue delivery, screenplay by Habib Faisal and direction by Maneesh Sharma draw heavily on King Khan yore days in flicks such as Darr and Baazigar to lend credence and authenticity. The clash between Gaurav and Aryaan has been well-etched and skilfully constructed. It is done in a top-notch manner that stays among the high moments in the film. Aryaan Khanna waving to fans in front of SRK house in Bandra is real and showcases the bond the star shares with his fans at Mannat. Such originality captures the essence of a superstar in all his moods and moments. A sense of déjà vu for die-hard SRK, waving to him and the latter is at his real best.

However, the lack of songs goes against the soul of the film and sad that the Jabra Fan Anthem is sorely missing. The song has pace, is a celebration of Fan and superstardom that makes the audience stay hungry. The scene where Gaurav inveigles into Aryan Khanna’s home should have been tightly edited.

Despite the odds, Fan is a must watch for all Shah Rukh Khan die-hards. Gaurav is dreadful and incredible, portraying the double personality disorder with aplomb. The way he forces Aryan Khanna to say sorry like an adamant child brings in empathy and someone you will love to hate but your heart sinking at the same time. Simply endearing and sensational. The chase is fast paced and gripping, though it could have been more dramatic to reach an octane level. What somewhat works against the movie is that post interval it’s high on style that overshadows the missing fluid treatment!

Watch Fan for it will go down in history as one of the most memorable Shah Rukh Khan’s performance, fearlessly saving the patchy script. The film starts with clippings of his earlier movies and interview in his younger days which is a plus point. Fan belongs to Shah Rukh Khan and hey no one can accuse him of being King Khan the star, playing to the gallery. More power to SRK for getting experimental in this brand of role, a far cry from Raj and Rahul.

Book Review: An Autograph for Anjali is heavenly bliss

BOOK REVIEW: An Autograph for Anjali

Author: Sundari Venkatraman

Publisher: Flaming Sun

Released in 2016

Genre: Romance with a touch of suspense

Rating: Four stars


Birdie love…not just an intro

A little red birdie tweaks its beak and tweeting knock knock, book review and thrust the book on my lap before flying. A world of wonder!! Suffering from color blues? Day dreaming…since when twee bird gets red-skinned!!  Aha!! It’s Sundari Venkatraman book’s An Autograph for Anjali. This trip means anything can turn into romance…super cool dude Arjun, a writer with passionate fire in belly Parth, dreamer Anjali, and guy missing the cue Jayant.

I gotta be serious for you are on a bold and mature trip of love, romance, harnessed ego and of course, the autograph for Anjali. You thought murder thriller? You are in for a more colorful trip for the queen bee of romance cooks a storm and shuffles her cards. She gets as bold as she can. Experimenting is thy name in Sundari Venkatraman’s world, taking us on a thrilling ride to redefine romance the mature way and unconditional love as her lady character jumps…not the bed dearies, from being subdued…no abla nari to super confident. A trip worth more than Rs 100 crores raked in by Yashraj Films not so delectable romance. I twirl my Frenchie Frenchie cut and fluidity in my head harping that I gotta be serious with this review.

Let’s pretend to be serious: An Autograph for Anjali is the kind of book that wears no cloak of pretension yet it’s unique, delicious, bold and expresses human emotions in a sensitive manner. The author raises the bar a notch higher and sets a standard in story writing. It’s not uncool to experiment and drifting away from teenage love for tick tock of the heart has no age and can happen anytime to anyone and anywhere. Brace yourself for this magnificent trip to heavenly bliss. The book is a journey into a life that squeezes your lemons but makes roses with them.

Blurbie blurbie blurb

Jayant Mathur is found murdered in his bed, shot at point-blank range with his own revolver. Though she’s extremely disturbed by his death, Jayant’s wife Anjali is way more upset about something else. Who stands to gain by killing the multi-millionaire businessman?

Parth Bhardwaj is a friend and neighbor of the Mathurs. Parth is an author who goes by a pseudonym. He appears more than a friend to Anjali; while he’s also on good terms with her son Arjun who lives and studies in the UK. What role does he play in Anjali’s life? Jayant’s relatives are curious to know.

Smack bang

An autograph for Anjali is a thrilling mature romance that gently taps on sexism, patriarchy and exploring characters distinct from each other. The way Sundari Venkatraman has built the suspense and sketching nuances depicting the world of Parth, Anjali and Arjun makes it a killer story. She nails the story at every end and gives a new edge and twist to showcase her mark of kick ass writing.

She beautifully explores pain where Anjali explores her identity as a woman and a human being first than being cowed down. What we make of life as human beings with desires, deeply embedded wishes and passion? She answers with the dreaded L for Lust that scares us to death and more acerbic feeling than our shadowy image that we abhor.

“I am scared of myself, of this powerful feeling of…of…lust I have for you.”

The treatment of the subject be it murder, romance, relationship and suspense are done with the minutest details to the hilt. In Anjali’s world, you have everything: A caring son, loyal friend, sensitive women in quest of freedom, clueless bimbo and ruthlessly egoistic cum shrewd businessman. For instance, the clash between Anjali and Jayant on one side and the bond the former shares with her son Arjun makes An Autograph for Anjali a compelling read.

What’s Not!

An Autograph for Anjali makes a very important statement through the depiction of her characters in a subtly powerful manner. However, the not-so-naughty reviewer in me scans and get in the loop for so-so moments. I feel that more drama could have been added to nail the culprit, making them go mad in finding her. But that’s me. It trickles down to the author’s creative liberty. As long as I am entertained and adorned with suspense words, who cares!!

Naughty! Naughty!! Author:

In An Autograph for Anjali, Sundari Venkatraman gets naughtier and takes boldness to the next level towards the climax. Her latest offering is not only entertaining and engrossing but weaves something completely different from her earlier books. The sky is the limit in terms of content and this time it gets more exciting on a grand scale. Have you found the autograph for Anjali? I am still searching for it but will give you a clue…If you ever find it, to whisper to my ears. The address?! It’s too private. Fasten your seat belt and zoom on Amazon.

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