Friday, February 27, 2015

Wrong, For The Right Reasons by Ritu Lalit


From the beginning, Ritu Lalit draws us into the world of Shyamoli. She represents all those Indian women who leave their home after their marriage and steps into an unknown territory. Ritu Lalit had started the story very aptly by quoting lines from the famous Star Trek, "to boldly go where no man has gone before." It's just very ironic that today I use this quote – the day Capt. Spock has left us all to meet the Almighty.

As you travel along with Shyamoli, you feel the pain as she subjected to the insensitivity of her husband, Manav as he continues to have liaisons with his ex-girlfriend, Nimmi. The strange part was when instead of sympathizing with Shyamoli both the mother-in-law and her own mother did not support her. The mother-of-law I can understand, but what shocked me was the behavior of the mother. But then, come to think of it, it should not have shocked me. There are hundreds of such cases where a girl is literally considered an outsider as soon as she changes her surname. We would love to think that the trend is changing, but it isn't.


I could relate to this story a lot. Many relationships have been at play in this small novel. The relationships between a mother and daughter, a son and a mother, amongst friends and between strangers. Shyamoli had a very tough relationship with the mother. Her yearning to please her mother is very heart wrenching. There is also a saying in India, 'there is no greater enemy of a woman then a woman herself' and this quote has been proven right every time a Shyamoli is born to a mother like hers. Ritu Lalit has brought out changing facets of ideologies that a woman has to face in her journey from being married to being divorced.

Each character that Shyamoli meets contributes to her growth. Whether it is Jaya auntie or her daughter, Uma. Another relationship which creeped me out was that of Shyamoli with her brother, Varun. How could such a simple relationship become so complex just because some amount of money is involved? Agreed, that like Shyamoli, I too am being naïve. But it does leave a feeling of distaste when you come across such relationships. Ritu Lalit on her part has done a wonderful job in giving every character a perfect role in her story.

The only thing that I found as a reader in this story was the number of characters in there. I understand the need for Gul's character but a mention of her relatives in such details was sometimes confusing. I won't call the characterizations misplaced but maybe a tad overdone.

I love this concept. Did Uma deserve what Shyamoli did to her? I'm not into moral policing. To some extent, Uma deserved everything that happened to her. But it did paint a tinge of grey shade on Shyamoli’s personality? However, I loved the way Ritu Lalit boldly presented Shyamoli at that point of time. Frankly speaking, presenting your protagonist in such a light takes guts.


This story will question your perspectives at every angle. Some may sympathize to what happened to the mother and some might sympathize of how Uma ended up with the looser. Some might call Shyamoli overambitious or a drama queen but whatever she did, she did with a lot of elegance.

There is much to learn from this story. It was not only a woman's struggle to provide a good home for her children but also about a woman searching for her feminism. Feminism is not something that makes you depended on others, take a placard and fight for your rights. To me it stands for the strength that drives you to face even the adverse situation. Shyamoli depicted every facet of feminism throughout the story. As daughter, a mother, a businessperson and a lover.

This style of writing is very humorous. Even though Shyamoli was going through a very bad phase, there was not a moment when I felt like pitying her. It was her sense of humor that made her face every situation.

"Prawpurly inbested," Mrs. Ghosh said, flustered by Mr.Singh's rapt gaze and stopped. She sipped some water and sand again, "properly invested, the sum is sufficient."

The above line, when I read suddenly, literally made me hear that dialect. Similarly, the whole story has a splatter of humor injected here and there.

This manuscript is not without flaws. A few punctuations here and there and a few errors with scenes have been noted. But one thing I have to mention here is from the time the blog tour has started and when other reviewers like Janaki Nagaraj have pointed this out, the author has made an attempt to correct those errors and informed the reviewers. This makes us feel good for at the end of the day the selling and marketing are just a very small part of writing. This makes all our reviews feel justified.


The story was soul touching and heartfelt. Shyamoli represented the highs and lows every woman faces in a marriage. Her struggles and victories is a ray of light for all those struggling women out there. I loved the way she was not portrayed as a Miss. Goodie Two Shoes. The boldness of her character is very refreshing. The only problems that I had were the badgering of characters one after the other which could have been taken down by a few notches.

A must read. 

Lovely Lines

"My decision was made years ago, to only be mother to the kids I’d birthed, I can’t mother a husband too".---*the bitch inside me snickered. 

"Call it sour grapes or whatever, but when people talk about life abroad as though it was a huge adventure, I don’t get the point.  They can come and live mine; it’s more exciting and stressful." -- the bitch retreated. :D

For The Right Reasons
Ritu Lalit

The Blurb

Shyamoli Verma’s timing is wrong. In her late twenties, she finds that her marriage is irrevocably broken. She comes back to her parents with her pre-teen son and an infant daughter, only to find that she is unwelcome. 

Independent and brash, she decides to bring up her children and also get a divorce without any support from friends and family. 

Written with wry self deprecating humour, this is the story of a divorced woman's quest for love and security.

Buy @

The Story Told In Pictures 

Meet the Author

Ritu Lalit is a corporate slave turned fiction writer. A voracious reader, she is a gold medalist post graduate in English Literature who spent most of her childhood in remote areas in the northeastern parts of India, lying on grassy hillsides daydreaming and reading books.

She loves spinning tales, but no longer has her captive audience as her children grew up and flew away from the coop. Her three dogs don’t pay much attention. She began writing in the vain hope that the characters she creates will listen to her, even do her bidding.

She has five books out in the market, A Bowlful of Butterflies, HILAWI, Chakra, Chronicles of the Witch Way and Wrong, for the Right Reasons. Her fifth novel, His Father’s Mistress is coming soon.

You can stalk her @



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Friday, February 20, 2015

Join the 1000 Voices for Compassion


A word that is more alien than the stranger moving in next door. Of course I know about compassion. Who doesn't? To be kind to your neighbours, friends, children and of course God’s special. We are all compassionate in our own way. But then, an incident occurs that shakes your believe, that makes you question the very basis of your own character. When friends are compassionate towards you, you tend to take it for granted but when you see a group of people standing for something which is in no way connected to them or beneficial for them– it makes you think. With all the killings, rapes, terrorism going on around us, Hope is still surviving in our planet. 

A young lad of 29 is lying in a hospital waiting for his family to arrive. He just wanted to say a goodbye. He was in dialysis after experiencing renal failure from the last 12 years. He wanted out. The pain was unbearable. But he wanted to say a goodbye.  He had no relatives around him. Alone but without fear – for he was God’s special child. What did he have to fear?  His only relative, his sister, will not be able to make it – he knew that. But he did not have any fear. His two best friends waited outside the ICU, dialing numbers, waiting for someone to show up, who would claim the responsibility and the hospital bill. But no one did.  One of his friends was allowed inside the ICU and he whispered, "we have informed her .. but it will take time for her to reach here."

The young lad smiled, “she won’t be able to make it. But you guys don’t worry. Everything will take care of itself.”

The friend did not want to agitate him, but he was skeptical. How did 5 lakh of Rupees come out of the thin air? He himself had only 50k in his account. And then a call came. From the Lad’s multinational company.  The friend could not hold himself any longer and blurted out the whole story. Just then the nurse came out and informed him that the lad was no more. The friends panicked. They did not know how they will take his body and how will they go about it. They called up his sister and the three of them could not think of anything. The sister told them to go to Western Union immediately, where she will transfer the money. But before they could, a group of people turned up. A group of more than a hundred. The area which had screamed in solitude was now a carnival. Just the way the lad had liked it. He always said..Life is a gift. We need to celebrate it. 

They were all from Dell International, where the lad had worked. They called up the sister and told her that they will take care of everything for the lad had long ago told them that this day would come. The sister held on to the phone on the other side, as they made all the arrangements and the loner who had come to the hospital went out amidst an exit fit for a king.
The people at Dell didn’t allow the sister to even think.  As the lad bid adieu, he left a parting gift for his sister.. a world full of strangers who never made her ever feel lonely again.


Visit the 1000 Voices Speak for Compassion Facebook page. Sign up to add your blog post to the effort. Ask to join the Facebook group. Use the hashtag #1000Speak.
This is the link-up for 1000 Voices Speak for Compassion; on February 20th, 2015, over 1000 of us will raise our voices and our writing, and flood the internet (and our real worlds) with GOOD and COMPASSION.

It started with an understanding that even though we might get older, we still all need the metaphorical village around us, and the compassion of others in our lives. Then the sudden thought happened - what if 1000 of us wrote about compassion all at once? From there, the movement has taken on its own life; has burgeoned and grown and spread a whole lot of love and connection and 'villageyness'.

Every voice matters - together we're stronger - let's BE the Village.

Join the 1000 Voices Speak for Compassion group on Facebook

Saturday, February 14, 2015

The New Age Fraandship by Janaki Nagaraj

New Motto of Frandship 
Today I have on my blog Janaki Nagaraj. I met Janaki for the first time in the virtual world of Blogging. I have never met her in my life but some friendships form and even friends who have not seen each other become very close. Hopefully the person who she is talking about in the post below is not me. :P 

A candid writer, a mesmerising poet and above all a lovely human being. Though our bone of contention is Salman Khan... but then between friends such sacrifices are quite common. :D

You can read all her wonderful articles, soul touching poems at Memoirs of a Homemaker 

Over to you Janaki :)

The New Age of Fraandship 

Many of you will agree with me when I say that we transferred most of our brain’s data into our mobile phones when we acquired one. The most important export being the phone numbers, birth dates, wedding anniversaries and other important dates of near and dear ones. What we had taken as an integral part of our memory storage system made us partially brain dead once we transferred the information.  But what will be the scenario when your mobile crashes or if you delete any information or number by mistake?

Drama, chaos, confusion, and irritation…the list goes on.

Picture this. Some one messages you on whatsapp and you haven’t saved the said number or have deleted it by mistake. You message back politely asking who the person is. And what do you get in return…a sad forwarded message that will go something like this

East or west
Friendship is the best
But what a waste
That you don’t communicate

But that does not stop there. An entire dukhbhari kavitha is sent to you while you are still trying to figure out who the person is as the display picture is either that of a kid, pet, meme or nature.

Every one of us will have a friend like the one I am talking about. I really cannot fathom what grouse or insecurity they have in their life that they take it upon themselves to make others life miserable. 

It may start with a good morning wish. And if you are in the mood to reply the same then you are saved for the day…else you will have to face a barrage of messages all of them accusing you of not being a good friend.

Since when did friendship come with a clause? Does forwarding message the only means of communicating, which means that we are connected with others and have not forgotten them? And, not following the bandwagon makes us a bad person?
Social media and the zillion apps have encroached upon our life and it has given an unwritten permission for people to trespass into our life too.

So, how do you manage such a friend? I gave a piece of my mind and let the person go. I bargained for Peace instead.

Thursday, February 12, 2015

She Loves Me- He Loves Me Not by Zeenat Mahal


When I got this book from Indireads, I was pretty excited. I have read Haveli by Zeenat Mahal and really loved her play with characters. She builds her characters up throughout the story. Here too we started with a love stuck girl, Zoella. Then her family problems are introduced along with her talents and by the end of the story not only is she married, she has a glamorous career too. A fairy tale in the true sense. 

The story starts with a beautiful scenario of kite flying. The atmosphere has been well created and every time they shouted 'Bo Kata', I too wanted to join in. We do have such scenes in India during the spring festival, Basant,  Makar Sankranti and on Indian Independence Day. That feeling of kite flying has to be experienced to even imagine it.  Zeenat must have had some such beautiful experiences in life which she has echoed in her writings. 

This story is about relationships. Not just between the husband and wife but also the parents. Many of you might feel that the role of the parents are given too much importance in this short love-story. But form the culture we come from, they are. All our love, fights and emotions are co-related and Zeenat has done a fabulous job is taking us through the journey of Zoella's household. 

The Story

A young girl gets married under strange circumstances. Though Zoella was in love with Fardeen from the time she had set her eyes on him, he on the other hand hardly knew of her existence. Zeenat brings this out very cutely when he tries to remember her name at the beginning itself. But again as in all love stories, Fate plays her role and the story of the Beauty and the Beast starts. 

Fardeen too feels the effects of a forced marriage though he does end up with a better deal at the end of the bargain. But now, his heart too is captured by this Florence Nightingale in his life; and he wanted to have a fresh start with her. But Zoella had been insulted too many times. Now her heart has closed up against his love. Will he be able to revive it?


When things stopped for a bit....

Zeenat took us from scene to scene with an ease. The back drop of the story created a lot of visualisation for us as a reader. If I stick to only Fardeen's and Zoella's love-story then I would say that there is nothing new. In fact, it just formed the basic skeletal of the story and the main theme was 'Family Matters'. The secondary characters were too powerful. Swaba dominated the scenes and at places Zoella ended up looking like a country bumpkin. Lines like, "Every passing day, she withdrew more into herself and distanced herself further from the rest of them." were repeated to show the relationship between the two protag. Was the repetition needed? It was the totally the secondary characters who carried the story to the next level. All I saw was Fardeen being the cold guy and Zoella being the good wife. Take two: Zoella being the cold woman and Farhaan trying to have sex with her. 

I found the story moving forward after Zoella became stronger. There were moments when the feminist in me found Fardeen a huge MCP but then I suppose all our Macho characters are. What this story lacked are incidents between the characters. Most of the incidents involved the secondary characters. Did Fardeen and Zoella do anything else besides baiting each other? 

Besides the above said line, I found no fault with the editing of the story. The grammar was impeccable as is with all Indireads stories.  

The Role They Played ....

All the depicted characters of this book are well etched. Zoella's mom is the epitome of 'majboor' moms. (Dependent moms) that are scattered all over our societies. All their lives they work hard for their family and in the end they have to spend blurting out dialogues like “Daughters are daughters. No daughter-in-law can ever come close.” Such a cliche from the perspective of a daughter-in-law. :P But then this is exactly what happens and Zeenat has brought this about well. 

All the other characters are very distinct. Ami, Swaba, Salaar and of course Fardeen and Zoella all have a voice of their own.  Except Neha. I personally felt Neha as a vamp was a bit forced. She reached everywhere they landed. How? Who was her informer? 

As they spoke ....

This is truly Zeenat's forte. Her dialogues are really superb and witty and more than the plot of her story, binds the readers to the story. I simply loved the interaction between Zoella and Fardeen in the little seduction scene played out by Zoella. "Seduction isn’t as easy as you’d think, and I’ve never done it before.”  - this dialogue was hilarious. 

The sense of camaraderie between Zoella and her in laws was really well portrayed. 

Beauty and the Beast ?

Now this is one question that makes me always stop and ponder. What is an original story? Shakespeare lived in the good ole' days :D But yes if you must dissect this story - theme was not original but the treatment of the story was. 

A contemplative Thought 

"A husband’s regard was crucial in their hypocritical society, and knowing that, Fardeen had made sure her family knew that he valued her. Not that she needed validation from any man."

I loved the word - hypocritical. 

Buy @

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Monday, February 9, 2015

I Waited

And he waited.... for he wanted IT more than his love, life and fame.
Image: Desktop Nexus
Waiting by the docks Jack saw the beam of the lighthouse casting an eerie glow. The shimmering water twinkled merrily like those naughty fairies in the woods, mocking the onlookers by vanishing as soon as their eyes indetified them. Jack inhaled the wisp of whisky floating in the air from the nearby tavern. A gypsy song was wafting towards him like a siren’s call. But he waited - not for the molten liquor which always intoxicated him. Taking away hours of reality and merging them into a dream. 

How he craved to forget his own existence! An orphan. He hated that word. At the age of twenty-six, he wanted more. He wanted his own identity. But he was just Jack. Jack, the orphan. His earliest memory was of stale whisky breath. Every time Mr. Alan came near him, his breath left a stench in the air. His muted voice sent a cold chill down his young spine. He remembered curling his fingers in a knot, to stop the fear from making him feel any less a man. But then, he was less a man against the burly, stomach bulging Mr. Alan.

Mr. Alan always spoke in a very low voice. Never raised it and just when you were mulled into a false sense of security.. Wham! His fist would leave a mark on your cheeks. Then the humiliation of his roaring laughter had to be endured. A laughter, which proclaimed his supremacy over the trembling, anorexic-looking kids and made the tyrant feel like a rajah.

Jack had tolerated all. The daytime beatings and humiliations. The painful fantasies of the sinful night. Painful, for he was the main performer of Mr.Alan's fantasies. His muted cries were smothered. His tears ran dry but nothing left the big walls of Anne Frank Orphanage. The boundary wall bore witness to many such scenes - yet remained a silent spectator. 

And then, she came. Miss. Samantha. Mr. Alex's wife number three. Little Jack fell in love. She was so sweet and pure. How his young heart adored her! She always had a smile for everyone. All the pain stopped. The bread was now not only buttered but they even had a weekly chicken broth. And just when the pain was receding in the past, Samantha decided that the Orphanage was too desolate for her to spend her life in and bade everyone a tearful goodbye. No one sobbed more than little Jack. His life came crashing down like a badly hung glass framed portrait.

Mr. Alan's infliction of pain rose like the Phoenix. Muted cries echoed again within the walls. Cold angry eyes overcast by dark eyelashes shone like glow worms on many hollow faces. But silence reigned. For they were orphans. Who would listen to them? They were discarded appendages. An epidemic to the well-cultured English society which had to be kept However, Jack had enough. So one night he hid under in the hunchback van of the mailman and silently bid adieu to this gloomy place. 

He learnt to beg with dignity until a carpenter took him in as his apprentice. He learnt the craft and he learnt to use the saw. With every movement of the saw, he felt his tensions easing. His woodwork had reached to such a level that the demand for his work grew. He now had a back account. But he never forgot the place he had come from - the orphanage by the dock. He had to return one day soon for he had left behind something very precious when he had run away from that place. 

"Why do'ya want to go back the'r, Jackie boy?" His carpenter Dad asked him. 

"I h've to Da." Jack said quietly. "I h've to get 't back."

So he waited. Sawing everyday. Making beautiful furniture which now the retail shops brought from him. He got a loan and opened is own furniture shop. Jack's Furniture. He now had a credit card too. And he waited.

He met Susan in the Church. Now that lass did pull his heart string. Just looking at her reminded him of Miss. Samantha. His heart was beating again. And this time the Gods were kind to him. She loved him back and they married. He bought a car. And he waited. 

Then the wait became an agony. He knew he had to go back. He kissed his wife, took some bread and wine for the road and started his journey towards the dock. Nothing had changed in the orphanage, except the faces of the children. But the fear in those eyes were same. Jack smiled at them and went to the main office and closed the door behind him.

A single wail rang out. 

A single curse proclaimed the augmentation of a new rule in the orphanage. 

The police came and handcuffed the dazed Jack - all one could hear was a few incorrigible mutterings, "I wa'ted. I wa'ted to get back my dignity."

The law declared him insane. They could not understand why he had butchered the young recruit who had just landed on this job after Mr. Alan's demise. Jack now sits by a grilled window, staring at the orange sky by the dock. His glazed eyes sunk and his once well-defined jaws pinched but only those who look at him closely can see the slight smile hovering on his pale lips. 

Sunday, February 8, 2015

House Of Cards by Sudha Murty

I bought this book as it was highly recommended by one of my friends. I had a gingerly start with this one. Reading Sudha Murty for the first time, I didn't have any expectations - just a few hours of entertainment. I had anything but entertainment.

The language is simple. With the errors I make, to call myself a grammar Nazi is hilarious. But when I come across translation from a colloquial language to English, I feel a tickle of laughter when Sanjay Beta is translated into Sanjay Son...literally.

Then my laughter ended. I was drawn into the world of Mridula. A simple girl from a well to do family from Aladahalli, marries the son of a money lender Ratnamma. Sanjay  has a physical disability. However, he is an idealistic man - a doctor in a government hospital.  We don't need to discuss the state of government hospital in India, but it is enough to say that this young man is soon tired of the red tapeism and the bureaucratic dictatorship, he decides to join the rat race of money making doctors.  Soon he is pulled into the life of power and money. Mridula stays outside the whirlpool and watches her family rising in wealth and falling in values. And then she starts questioning her own existence.


It took a few turns of pages before I could get into this book. I am from Bangalore too, so the roads, the description all added to the nostalgia that soon engulfed me. My first peeve started with the communist mentality of Mridula. To be idealistic is not a problem but expecting others to be the same is. Her anger towards Sanjay is understandable. Maybe even I will leave my DH if he gives money from our account without telling me. For those who are snickering, it is a question of trust not money. But here again one question was coming into my mind. Mridula too distributed money without the knowledge of Sanjay -education of a young girl whose parents could not afford her education. So, was not Mridula being a bit over bearing regarding this?

Was her feminism only evident when she felt her Sil was given a power which was rightfully hers? Why did she not question Sanjay the day he first spoke rudely to her in front of outsiders? Why did she not give a tight slap to her son the day he mocked her?
So many questions rose in my mind while reading this book. Personally, I questioned many of my own beliefs. That is the impact this book had on me.

Sudha Murty 's simple language slowly weaves a way to your heart. I cribbed about it a lot. My friends know that :p;  But then I loved the way she wove the story around Mridula. Her fears, her tears, her joys are something which every Indian housewife feels at some point of time.  

Would I recommend this book? Definitely. 

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

A Princess by Christmas by Jennifer Faye

Name of the book : A Princess by Christmas
Name of the Author : Jennifer Faye
Publisher : Harlequin
No. of pages: 256 pages

She is Reese Harding. A beautiful, practical and caring person. She comes with a baggage of abandonment issues which leaves her not wanting to open her heart to anyone. But even in her toughest moment she was not ready for the Prince who barged into her life.

He ....
He is Prince Alexandro Castanovo. A man bound by duties towards his state and family. He cannot afford to fall in love. Duty towards his state is what has bound his heart from loving anyone. For ultimately he has to love someone whom his father approves of.

The Love Story....
But falling in love does not have any rule. While Alex is bound by his family traditions and duties, Reese is a victim of her past. Both are not ready to break the shackles yet are pulled towards each other.


Lets say at this point of my life I need a book of this calibre. Its a joy to read a book in which the characters are well etched, portrayed well and written impeccably.

Another thing which I really loved about Jennifer Faye's stories is her portrayal of her   male protagonists. They are humans. Not superhuman or alpha or beta. Even being a Prince, Alex had his own share of normal human traits. One of them being vulnerability.

“For just a bit, he’d be plain old Alex. A regular citizen. A mere tourist. Something he’d never been in his whole life.”

For all the lovers of Romance, this book is a must. It will make you want to swoon over Alex and cheer for Reese. The best part was how Reese goes about teaching Alex what love is all about. It was really cute. Alex on the other hand came out to be a very sensitive guy. His buying of the small Christmas tree proved that. That was one of my favorite scenes.

Will I recommend this book ? Definitely.

Buy @

Monday, February 2, 2015

Canvas of Dreams by Jaya Siva Murty


A tale of a woman's journey of self discovery and passion. Jaya Siva Murty has created a very strong character in Riya. Written in first person, from  Riya's point of view. A reader will find herself growing as the protagonist unravels herself as the story progresses. 

Riya is influenced by three men in her life. Ryan, Siddharth and Rehaan. Each of the men, help her in the path of self discovery. Ryan. , her childhood love-  who left her and went away without any explanation.  Siddharth who married her but never understood her and Rehaan who had the same passion for art as she did. But was that enough? Here I must quote the author as she describes relationships with such a panache.

 "He  turned  and  smiled.  ‘Yes,  you  must  be  right.  I  know   nothing  about  art  and  relationships.  However,  I  do  know  one  thing.  It’s  not   about how similar or how different two people are. A relationship is about whether they are able to celebrate and enjoy those similarities and dissimilarities.  Have  a  happy  life  with  whoever  you  love.’  And  so  saying,  he  walked away. "

Jaya has introduced her characters at an interval and thus even in a short space - it doesn't feel cramped. Riya does not make marriage the do all and end all. Thank god for that or I might have put my reader down. I am fed up with our modern day girls thinking that marriage is a means to livelihood. We don't think like that anymore and when our dear authors insists upon depicting us as our past doppelgangers, it feels that our struggle to gain our foothold has been in vain. 


I loved the character of Ria. Strong, sensible and a woman of today.She knows her mind and can work towards her goal. The incident just before the exhibition, with Rehaan, where she does not back down from her stand, even though he was "the" man (or was he?) of her life-  made me laugh and want to hug her. Every time I thought Ria was going to be weak, she rose like the Phoenix.

But the relationship between Siddharth and Ria felt a bit incomplete. Ria's anger came out well, but Siddharth's passion and quirks did not live up to Ria's anger. They were not enough passionate fights,which the story demanded, but were rather 'spats' between a husband and a wife. 

To some extent I felt the author had neatly tied up the relationships just to take the character out of Riya's life. A possessive person does not let go so easily. :)

Few places the story dragged specially where Rehaan was concerned.  Or maybe I wanted to know to reach the end too soon ? :) 

Will I recommend this book : Definitely a one time read. You wont regret spending your dollars for this short read.

Canvas Of Dreams
Jaya Siva Murty

The Blurb
 Riya seems to have lost everything—the man she loves to another woman, her husband to death and her soul to fear.An unexpected meeting with her first love, Ryan, stirs up long repressed feelings but also allows her to move out of the long shadow of the past. Unburdened, she feels free to pursue her dream of opening an art gallery and the handsome and intriguing artist Rehaan. But memories of her marriage refuse to fade away and then suddenly, Ryan shows up in her life again. Now, Riya must find the courage to reconcile her past and present.For Riya, life is a canvas of dreams. Can she distinguish between reality and fantasy?
Buy @

Watch It 

Meet the Author

Jaya Siva Murty is a business writer and social media manager from Visakhapatnam, India. Fascinated with the written word since the age of ten, she would file away her poems and short stories in a secret diary, till some were finally published by ‘Times of India’ and ‘Savvy’. She has written for the Economic Times and now provides India-relevant stories for a Hong Kong based magazine. When she’s not designing content for websites, or writing technical blogs and articles for clients worldwide, she spins yarns with unusual twists and turns through her works of fiction.

Jaya holds a business management degree and has taken creativity lessons at Stanford University. ‘Canvas of Dreams’ is her debut foray into novella writing.

You can stalk her @



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