tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3416865309216197942024-02-20T16:14:49.669-08:00Blog of a Forbidden DreamerGayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-51230881656711185022021-02-07T01:06:00.003-08:002021-02-07T01:06:40.487-08:00Book Review : Surge on Like A River<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQZGA29YFVWQhf1uBP_5Wdl_6PkW3WEbu7_lN1RB-BXvCaOoB76O5geS_HwnYm50RxejD-JXGBo0xISTIZeQB_a5h-iMoNAFoDAjROgMnsRN0XUTIgoMDQTULdPsdJ5ZUufwOR8mfPSnY/s1024/Banner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQZGA29YFVWQhf1uBP_5Wdl_6PkW3WEbu7_lN1RB-BXvCaOoB76O5geS_HwnYm50RxejD-JXGBo0xISTIZeQB_a5h-iMoNAFoDAjROgMnsRN0XUTIgoMDQTULdPsdJ5ZUufwOR8mfPSnY/w640-h320/Banner.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><br /><p><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">About The Book</span></h3><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br /></div>Surge On Like a River is the English translation of the Tamil book titled ‘Nee Nadhi Pola Odikondiru’, originally written by Bharathy Bhaskar, a Chemical Engineer and an MBA, who is a banker by profession. She is also a popular columnist and speaker, and a household name in Tamil homes, thanks to the debates and shows she has spoken in.<p></p><p>The essays are written in a simple, engaging style, and filled with profound insights. These nuggets of wisdom primarily draw from the author’s life experiences and her empathetic observations of the people and situations around her.</p><p>This English translation by V. Shyamala captures the lively nature of the original, bringing it to a wider audience with the idea that the readers who do not know Tamil should not miss out on the wonderful collection.</p><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqAmA6w0etqsolPosJAXlp4R-Rt_4M3AfyjJKfLADrTVt2Q-VP40XvirevrebZr8LvKLFM21ljgEU5Jdks4Cs99MKbaZN0xNs7iOmpAoIsETVx1XlelB0GKBF21zy1UJrFe94cc0JlGk/s512/unnamed.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="102" data-original-width="512" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqAmA6w0etqsolPosJAXlp4R-Rt_4M3AfyjJKfLADrTVt2Q-VP40XvirevrebZr8LvKLFM21ljgEU5Jdks4Cs99MKbaZN0xNs7iOmpAoIsETVx1XlelB0GKBF21zy1UJrFe94cc0JlGk/w645-h128/unnamed.png" width="645" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3M4_efuHdfZXjw_u5A1N_x6XUZR2ARrjRvFhNOfVvTFrsd22e0RN4KC2WZ1fTI0IWNRtOqc_qPzI9lfJXL6uOLAdByI4BHDDxgMgfGBxygX3MtsCrqJOPyyxKd1iX3kOjMmvONqjusAc/s500/Book+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="358" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3M4_efuHdfZXjw_u5A1N_x6XUZR2ARrjRvFhNOfVvTFrsd22e0RN4KC2WZ1fTI0IWNRtOqc_qPzI9lfJXL6uOLAdByI4BHDDxgMgfGBxygX3MtsCrqJOPyyxKd1iX3kOjMmvONqjusAc/w286-h400/Book+Cover.jpg" width="286" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><h3 style="text-align: left;">Book Review :</h3><div><br /></div><div><p>Author (Tamil): Bharathy Bhaskar</p><p>Translation (English) : V. Shyamala</p><p>Publisher : Suzhi Publications (20 December 2020)</p><p>Language : English</p><p>Pages : 119 pages</p></div><div><br /></div><div>Bharathy Bhaskar, noted for her thought provoking insights and observations on the world around us that is plain to see, yet often ignored, have struck another cord with this book that so efficiently deals with the every day topics that we either turn a cold shoulder against or those that are conveniently ignored. Each chapter in the book is a recollection or rumination on a particular incident or a dialogue that has enabled her to dive into the 'way of the world' and give it an unbiased third person's point of view. </div><div><br /></div><div><blockquote><div>Quoting Jorge Gonzalez Moore, “The translator is the author’s accomplice.”, V Shyamala has categorically repainted the book into a paint that even the blind can see! Borrowing from Jose Saramago, "Writers make national literature, while translators make universal literature", V.Shyamala had taken upon herself the Herculean task of translating something, not just in essence, but also in meaning and character with an unfailing resolve that has evidently panned into the clarity and precision of this Translation. It retains those Tamil quips and quibbles or words that cannot translate its depth in English, which somehow finds a place in the reader's heart where it seems more authentic and the character of the author feels preserved as if the author herself is directly in discourse with the reader. </div><div><br /></div><div>Bharathy Bhaskar in the book says : </div><blockquote><div>Have you ever taken a pebble from the depths of a river and pressed it against your cheek with eyes closed, enjoying its cool smoothness? Wasn’t that pebble also once a sharp stone with jagged edges? It smoothened its rough, tearing edges under the torrential flow of the river. Entrusting ourselves to the great river called life, and gaining serenity and coolness alone will make our journey towards old age a pleasure, would it not?</div><div></div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>There was so much meaning and thought in this line where we are, by all means shaped and smoothened by our life like how a river shapes a jagged, rough stone into a soft smooth pebble that everyone would want to grip in their palms. The book is resplendent with such thought-provoking epigrams and aphorisms. The line which goes "...<span class="gmail_default" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"></span>we have the itching compulsion to mentally touch the parts of our heart that pain, the tears that we shed years ago, the hatred we carried towards someone, rejections we faced; that we have kept safe say, ‘ssssss, that pains’, and get a jolt of heated gratification from it.", so vividly portrays a trait that is common to all mankind, with no exceptions.</div><div><br /></div><div> The outlook of the world and the gender bias and the unnecessary turmoil people cook up in the name of success and achievements falls under scrutiny in the book and she rightly says , "<span class="gmail_default" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"></span>‘Go to work at the cracker company and fill my cup of alcohol,’ say the uneducated parents. Educated parents dictate, ‘Win in the television competitions and fill my goblet of pride’". The innocent verbose childhood that happens to be a girl, who is constantly scolded for being too talkative asks, <span class="gmail_default" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"></span>“Aunty, what does ‘vayadi’ mean?” “A girl who speaks a lot.” “Then what is a boy who speaks a lot called?” I had no reply. Nor did Tamil. What could Tamil do? It is not the language that forms words. It is only humans who do that" . Such profound is the thought that comes in reply to the little girl's words that prompts to question the very source of language and how these common phrases took shape. </div><div><br /></div><div>On the very hyped up issue of colour complex, Bharathy directs our attention to the more common and prominent ideologies that still percolate our concepts : </div><div> <span class="gmail_default" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"></span></div><br /><blockquote>When the Olympic Games were held in China, the theme song was actually sung by a young girl. But on stage, it was another ‘beautiful’ child who lip-synced to her honeyed voice. The girl who had sung it probably stayed at home, crying.<br /><br /> ...Are we as a society so completely brainwashed to think that fair skin is the only definition of beauty? Since the beginning of human civilization, taking care of our faces, bodies, and hair, and taking efforts to reduce the faults in them has been a continuing practice. There’s nothing wrong in this. It is natural to strive for a pleasant appearance...<br /><br /><br />...We cannot underestimate the boost of self-confidence given by a presentable look. But when it crosses a particular limit, it ends up draining one’s time, money, even saps the strength of the soul; and leads to a parched dreariness without any constructive thought; and when the idea that ‘we need to look beautiful’ becomes an all-consuming desire to portray oneself as seductive, this issue changes direction.</blockquote><br /><br /><div dir="auto"></div><div></div></blockquote><div>Another cliche concept is of woman as that all bearing, ever stoical pillars of the household who should be the slave, the servant, the slut, the strength, the face and the shield of the family. If there's an argument, she should solve it, if there is a fight with the neighbour she should fight like a queen, the unending demands and expectations laid down on the one in the kitchen, the cleaner, the cook, the washer, the mediator, the massager, the tutor, the connector and the whatnot! Even the books and the films and soaps portray such stereotypes that they set out to be the touchstone for a perfect woman. And like Bharathy lays it down plain :</div><div><br /></div><div dir="auto"><span class="gmail_default" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"></span></div><blockquote><div dir="auto"><span class="gmail_default" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"></span>“I have to do it myself. Seeing me exhaust myself, everyone around me should melt, praising me, ‘you burn yourself for others like a candle’” is a secret thirst that never leaves women. <br /></div><div dir="auto"></div><div> </div></blockquote><div></div></div><div>The women simply are forced into accepting this thought.</div><div><br /></div><div>Apart from these, the book is also an insightful read into effective and successful parenting, and also helps as a boost to those self-doubting women out there who are griding under the pressure of expectations and misconceptions. We are, after all, human beings just like anyone else. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wouldn't strictly classify this book as a feminist propaganda or a discourse to side with a marginalised portrayal of womanhood. That would be wrong, as the author herself is an empowered figure who is both a working, thinking woman and a caring , loving family-person. The aim is to not forward an ideology or perspective but to open our eyes wide at all that we prefer to close it against and to nudge us to those observations and understandings that we are, like I stated earlier, conveniently indifferent to. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqAmA6w0etqsolPosJAXlp4R-Rt_4M3AfyjJKfLADrTVt2Q-VP40XvirevrebZr8LvKLFM21ljgEU5Jdks4Cs99MKbaZN0xNs7iOmpAoIsETVx1XlelB0GKBF21zy1UJrFe94cc0JlGk/s512/unnamed.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="102" data-original-width="512" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqAmA6w0etqsolPosJAXlp4R-Rt_4M3AfyjJKfLADrTVt2Q-VP40XvirevrebZr8LvKLFM21ljgEU5Jdks4Cs99MKbaZN0xNs7iOmpAoIsETVx1XlelB0GKBF21zy1UJrFe94cc0JlGk/w645-h128/unnamed.png" width="645" /></a></div><h4 style="text-align: left;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">Author : <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwnmEs9dR1g-qYhwIfA7D3ptarZH_0vJk6IgVLHHaMWp_U68JB1BNmJd3RW42v3vtyzPKaiS_63IIW-JEACINnKgPWbxSQ1FdpV9mMbL5UhZrmQyR2JUFUeMJUTV8ZNW8AG1ZvePtPiuQ/s225/Author+Pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwnmEs9dR1g-qYhwIfA7D3ptarZH_0vJk6IgVLHHaMWp_U68JB1BNmJd3RW42v3vtyzPKaiS_63IIW-JEACINnKgPWbxSQ1FdpV9mMbL5UhZrmQyR2JUFUeMJUTV8ZNW8AG1ZvePtPiuQ/s0/Author+Pic.jpg" /></a></div><br /></span></u></b></h4><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Bharathi Baskar is a Tamil Orator who is popular for her humorous debate talk shows called Pattimandram.com, telecasted on Sun TV. She is also an anchor for the daily talk show called Vaanga Peasalam at 7.15 a.m from Monday to Wednesday on Sun TV. Bharathi Baskar is also a Senior Vice President at Citi Bank, Chennai.</span></p><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">Translator :</span></u></b></div><div><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></u></b></div><div><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></u></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQU1WPRg24XJbom1Lz2GBqNYpjpeajGdRP84rlw3p0a2uzwdHBk5ElkUmDeqTCT2GlN3A5_LDGI6WuKB9io9NXI3DgHVehyvTx4U_ErzE7nlpQ-Lnvs6t8YBc4B9N7xLLSrXAjxdwYMEw/s2048/Translator+Pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQU1WPRg24XJbom1Lz2GBqNYpjpeajGdRP84rlw3p0a2uzwdHBk5ElkUmDeqTCT2GlN3A5_LDGI6WuKB9io9NXI3DgHVehyvTx4U_ErzE7nlpQ-Lnvs6t8YBc4B9N7xLLSrXAjxdwYMEw/s320/Translator+Pic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>V.Shyamala is a cost accountant, a homemaker, and a writer. She loves to weave stories and is on a continuous quest to seek new and creative ways to teach children. When not writing, reading, or thinking up stories, Shyamala mentors CIMA students, strives to workout, loves tweaking South Indian heritage recipes, and translates Tamil words to English. She is also a member of AWIC (Association of Writers and Illustrators for Children) and volunteers at a local library twice a week.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18pt;">Catch with Up V. Shyamala
on Social Media</span></u></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US"><a href="mailto:shyamala.hg@gmail.com"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Email</span></a></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> | </span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/shyamala.v.84"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Facebook</span></a></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> | </span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://twitter.com/Shyamal64310170"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Twitter</span></a></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> | </span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/shyamala_author/"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Instagram</span></a></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqAmA6w0etqsolPosJAXlp4R-Rt_4M3AfyjJKfLADrTVt2Q-VP40XvirevrebZr8LvKLFM21ljgEU5Jdks4Cs99MKbaZN0xNs7iOmpAoIsETVx1XlelB0GKBF21zy1UJrFe94cc0JlGk/s512/unnamed.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="102" data-original-width="512" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqAmA6w0etqsolPosJAXlp4R-Rt_4M3AfyjJKfLADrTVt2Q-VP40XvirevrebZr8LvKLFM21ljgEU5Jdks4Cs99MKbaZN0xNs7iOmpAoIsETVx1XlelB0GKBF21zy1UJrFe94cc0JlGk/w645-h128/unnamed.png" width="645" /></a></div><br /></span><p></p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div>Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-69487743442128043402021-02-06T22:24:00.003-08:002021-02-06T22:46:34.477-08:00Guest Post by V. Shyamala _ Surge on Like a River<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJkHsbDW8szE2EA8jKHpa3pasXy0gWdaSc5hFgwLudpEwXbaGu9rgXIol07qdW2ARFWgdRDmehTRAv4dJ-4jEpLZj2x6Bx3YRVgWcuaqSAtU5CDJyx9m1cZdBnxvaQki6l3bj0pFWrYwI/s1024/Banner.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJkHsbDW8szE2EA8jKHpa3pasXy0gWdaSc5hFgwLudpEwXbaGu9rgXIol07qdW2ARFWgdRDmehTRAv4dJ-4jEpLZj2x6Bx3YRVgWcuaqSAtU5CDJyx9m1cZdBnxvaQki6l3bj0pFWrYwI/w400-h200/Banner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><u><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Surge On Like a River</span></u></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><u>About The Book</u></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLcDrttHIXdHRUrofrrXegR-DAkqYRPxbr_uuwS7ADxlQf6_8v5rvByNqDR7ORkFMCuZAohjHuB3mNXUXQXyl-1BqJLGsdK8WHb_phRyMt6Chb8H1DH2LIXY_I9iGds-_pzn0NKG87Bon/s500/Book+Cover.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="358" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLcDrttHIXdHRUrofrrXegR-DAkqYRPxbr_uuwS7ADxlQf6_8v5rvByNqDR7ORkFMCuZAohjHuB3mNXUXQXyl-1BqJLGsdK8WHb_phRyMt6Chb8H1DH2LIXY_I9iGds-_pzn0NKG87Bon/w229-h320/Book+Cover.jpg" width="229" /></a><span style="font-family: georgia;">Surge On Like a River is the English translation of the Tamil book titled ‘Nee Nadhi Pola Odikondiru’, originally written by Bharathy Bhaskar, a Chemical Engineer and an MBA, who is a banker by profession. She is also a popular columnist and speaker, and a household name in Tamil homes, thanks to the debates and shows she has spoken in.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The essays are written in a simple, engaging style, and filled with profound insights. These nuggets of wisdom primarily draw from the author’s life experiences and her empathetic observations of the people and situations around her.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This English translation by V. Shyamala captures the lively nature of the original, bringing it to a wider audience with the idea that the readers who do not know Tamil should not miss out on the wonderful collection.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><u>Purchase Links</u></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b></b><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://www.amazon.in/gp/product/B08R3W1BCJ/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_d_asin_title_o00" target="_blank">Amazon India</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08R3W1BCJ/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_d_asin_title_o00" target="_blank">Amazon USA</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEmD608GZz0ZjOd5l25ZyUp7f4nwfO5L1Xxy2BvJNi8zMOw1t6NsS5a5Ipfe5wUbPOwRRWRH_iB_l4P8zwQWkW1N1l-2CywgfvWPf2uUztXRmHldgDTADFlkekIZmbYjOnrtriN7zwHSw/s512/unnamed.png" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="102" data-original-width="512" height="64" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEmD608GZz0ZjOd5l25ZyUp7f4nwfO5L1Xxy2BvJNi8zMOw1t6NsS5a5Ipfe5wUbPOwRRWRH_iB_l4P8zwQWkW1N1l-2CywgfvWPf2uUztXRmHldgDTADFlkekIZmbYjOnrtriN7zwHSw/w692-h64/unnamed.png" width="692" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div><div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><u>Guest Post by </u></b></span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><u>V. Shyamala</u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b>When I read out aloud ‘I am Malala’ to my 8-year-old daughter</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">‘I Am Malala: The Girl Who Stood Up for Education and was Shot by the Taliban’ was the first full-length autobiography that I read out loud to my daughter when she was eight. Till then, I had only read out picture books and short stories to her.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Why I choose this book – you might wonder. Well, it just happened that in school, at a fancy-dress competition held for older children, a child dressed as Malala was awarded the first prize. My</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">daughter wanted to know about the girl who had inspired that dress. I just gave her a two-line explanation – ‘Girls were not allowed to go to school in the part of the world where she lived, but she went ahead anyway, and so was shot at for going to school. But, don’t worry, she recovered and now lives in London.’</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My daughter was not satisfied.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I had the e-book (the detailed version co-authored by Christina Lamb) on my Kindle and started reading out parts of it to her. But she was not satisfied with that either and wanted me to read the whole book. Though initially, I felt this book was not appropriate for her age, when I started reading it aloud to her (I would read a chapter a day), I realized she was mature enough not only to understand it but also to ask me insightful questions. We had many conversations on religion, gender bias, the role of education, freedom… all weighty topics indeed! I tried to be as honest and balanced as I could. I too learned a lot in the process!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Malala said -“One child, one teacher, one pen and one book can change the world.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This book changed the world for my daughter. Malala’s story made her think on a deeper level and try to understand issues from different perspectives. Though I kept myself from sermonizing, she realized how lucky she was to have been born in a part of the world where she was relatively safe and had the right to education. How lucky she was to whine about homework and projects when many children – especially girls – around the world were attacked if they so much as wanted to go to school!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">After this, she started reading children’s novels. Now my daughter is 10, and she has already read the book twice by herself!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is the power of books, the power of stories. They open up new worlds, offer new perspectives, and elicit new insights. They help us understand the ‘other’.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This incident opened my eyes to stories around me – stories told by my grandmother and mother – about Avvaiyar, Goddess Meenakshi, Dr. Muthulakshmi Reddy, Rani Velu Nachiyar, her commander-in-chief Kuyili… the list is really long. There are innumerable stories in Indian languages that are not known outside a particular geographical area or beyond a community that speaks the language. My first translation project of Smt. Bharathy Bhaskar is my first small effort to bring a good literary work in Tamil to a wider audience.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Glossary Terms:</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Avvaiyar: Poetess of ancient Tamil Nadu, her name means ‘a woman of respect’. Here, the reference is the first Avvaiyar who lived during the Sangam period (c. 3rd century BCE).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Goddess Meenakshi: A Hindu Goddess whose temple dominates the city of Madurai in Tamil Nadu. A warrior queen, she is believed to have conducted a military campaign in the north till she reached Kailash, where she met and married Lord Shiva.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Padma Bhushan Dr. Muthulakshmi Reddy – one of the first women doctors in India, the first female student to be admitted into a men&#39;s college, the first woman House Surgeon in the Government Maternity and Ophthalmic Hospital, the first woman Legislator in British India.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Rani Velu Nachiyar - Known as Veeramangai (brave woman), she was the first Indian queen to fight and triumph against the (British) East India Company. She ruled Sivagangai for 10 years from C.1780 to 1790. Kuyili was her army commander-in-chief and considered to be the first suicide bomber in history who destroyed the British armory.</div><div style="font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;"><br /></div></span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><u>About the Author</u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv516e0YI5gs9rczB0LdXdr3EejCiUpDnSadqQI13YpQSTHOvkP_UrHUreW7xba7FOZv5hSaeDeEowupIWfSHW_BacRBJNohwGlEkhsEfpgrXJ_zAWqip8V_9q6cA_G4QweHuYMxzv6K2K/s225/download.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv516e0YI5gs9rczB0LdXdr3EejCiUpDnSadqQI13YpQSTHOvkP_UrHUreW7xba7FOZv5hSaeDeEowupIWfSHW_BacRBJNohwGlEkhsEfpgrXJ_zAWqip8V_9q6cA_G4QweHuYMxzv6K2K/w200-h200/download.jpg" width="200" /></a></div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Bharathi Baskar is a Tamil Orator who is popular for her humorous debate talk shows called Pattimandram.com, telecasted on Sun TV. She is also an anchor for the daily talk show called Vaanga Peasalam at 7.15 a.m from Monday to Wednesday on Sun TV. Bharathi Baskar is also a Senior Vice President at Citi Bank, Chenna</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><u>About the Translator</u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsz9VAfvtfrcbdyJxZnMWOu-P15cMFi_0UXS4vmUc-2J6KbKpAooGY8OWE0tZXjE1GFi6HYZPZ-Ns4DpUT9H3dS6495y-92STLLit2SmikDELDeoFkjLXVwpGDc3_KXxDHeex8K-hE5mSm/s2048/Shyamala+Picture.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsz9VAfvtfrcbdyJxZnMWOu-P15cMFi_0UXS4vmUc-2J6KbKpAooGY8OWE0tZXjE1GFi6HYZPZ-Ns4DpUT9H3dS6495y-92STLLit2SmikDELDeoFkjLXVwpGDc3_KXxDHeex8K-hE5mSm/w200-h150/Shyamala+Picture.jpg" width="200" /></a></div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">V.Shyamala
is a cost accountant, a homemaker, and a writer. She loves to weave stories and
is on a continuous quest to seek new and creative ways to teach children. When
not writing, reading, or thinking up stories, Shyamala mentors CIMA students,
strives to workout, loves tweaking South Indian heritage recipes, </span><a name="_GoBack" style="font-family: georgia;"></a><span style="font-family: georgia;">and translates Tamil words to English. She is also a member
of AWIC (Association of Writers and Illustrators for Children) and volunteers at
a local library twice a week.</span></div><span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 107%;">
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<!--[endif]--></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><u>Catch with Up <span style="text-align: justify;">V.Shyamala on Social Media</span></u></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="mailto:shyamala.hg@gmail.com" target="_blank">Email</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/shyamala.v.84" target="_blank">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/Shyamal64310170?s=08" target="_blank">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shyamala_author/" target="_blank">Instagram</a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEmD608GZz0ZjOd5l25ZyUp7f4nwfO5L1Xxy2BvJNi8zMOw1t6NsS5a5Ipfe5wUbPOwRRWRH_iB_l4P8zwQWkW1N1l-2CywgfvWPf2uUztXRmHldgDTADFlkekIZmbYjOnrtriN7zwHSw/s512/unnamed.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="102" data-original-width="512" height="64" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEmD608GZz0ZjOd5l25ZyUp7f4nwfO5L1Xxy2BvJNi8zMOw1t6NsS5a5Ipfe5wUbPOwRRWRH_iB_l4P8zwQWkW1N1l-2CywgfvWPf2uUztXRmHldgDTADFlkekIZmbYjOnrtriN7zwHSw/w692-h64/unnamed.png" width="692" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><p></p>
Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-34551817877339571262020-09-14T22:10:00.000-07:002020-09-14T22:10:31.590-07:00<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2020/09/along-came-a-spyder-release-day.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdezFMjPVG_9Mmz1wAYCwHTqdtS1G6F_DcweIUEYJU_FNs85FduGkv0JjgTCwt9USwgalZ9VXJOSiccOKd11_OXQfWIPK6hKcI_aqNpkjIVHzf8n7dQ3ETYV-0DuYt03HIOC5SsKIXzcU/w625-h313/Release+Day+Blitz.png" width="625" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About the Book:</u></b></span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtUKBeCWkU0QcXcwrMz8zQ1Yx33aV5eggn4Ep3OKiTkHX_X1PE4vVUKwuIfo3a1JlQaVlNJwVQYNu6Zm9da6TkEpPG1OeMi3GLLkfdGUmGAOWLR_NYPohk4MkrHu9CWqZo5LHPvMLYVHY/s475/52663172._SY475_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="298" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtUKBeCWkU0QcXcwrMz8zQ1Yx33aV5eggn4Ep3OKiTkHX_X1PE4vVUKwuIfo3a1JlQaVlNJwVQYNu6Zm9da6TkEpPG1OeMi3GLLkfdGUmGAOWLR_NYPohk4MkrHu9CWqZo5LHPvMLYVHY/s320/52663172._SY475_.jpg" /></a></div><div><div>At 17, Samira Joshi has only one dream in life.</div><div><br /></div><div>She wants to be a spy. And why not?</div><div><br /></div><div>Spying runs in the Joshi genes. Her great-grandmother was famous for sticking her nose in everyone’s business. Her grandmother had a flourishing side-business of tracking down errant husbands and missing servants. Her parents are elite intelligence agents for RAW. Yet, they want their only daughter to become a doctor. When she sees a college friend being trapped by a pimp, Samira does some spying of her own, and discovers the existence of a secret sisterhood of teen spies — The Spyders. And, she wants in!</div><div><br /></div><div>The question is, do they want her?</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/52663172-along-came-a-spyder" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3bWP9lf" target="_blank">Amazon</a></b></span></div><div><br /></div><h1 style="text-align: center;"><u>Read an Excerpt from Along Came a Spyder</u></h1><div><br /></div><div><div>I was being followed. I just didn’t know it. You couldn’t blame me, really. I was only sixteen at the time. For the past year, my parents had rarely been in the same place at the same time, for more than a month. So, when they whisked me off to Dubai for a family holiday, I was so excited that I forgot the basic counter-surveillance measures drilled into me by said parents. Like I said, I was only sixteen.</div><div>Yet, I was being followed, and I hadn’t realised it yet. Though I did realise that I needed to pee. I came out of the stall, washed my hands, and decided to fix my unruly hair. As I was pulling all of it up into a high ponytail, a woman came and stood next to me.</div><div>“I have something important to tell your parents.”</div><div>At first, I thought she was talking on the phone because she was speaking in Arabic, so, I didn’t respond.</div><div>“Samira Joshi, I have to talk to your parents, now.”</div><div>I turned to the woman, shocked.</div><div>“How do you know my name?” I mindlessly responded in Arabic.</div><div>“Shh! Keep your voice down, and turn back to the mirror.”</div><div>“Who are you and how do you know my name?” I asked softly, facing the mirror.</div><div>“That’s not the point. Will you do as I asked?”</div><div> “I won’t do a thing until you tell me your name!” I said, belligerently.</div><div>“My name doesn’t mean anything to you. Just do as I ask,” she insisted.</div><div>“Take off your veil, then. I want to see your face.”</div><div>The woman was heavily veiled, in a niqab that concealed her face.</div><div>“No! Just tell your parents that I want to speak to them,” snapped the woman.</div><div>“Why should I do that? My parents are not fools, to meet a total stranger. You could be leading them into some sort of trap,” I argued.</div><div>The woman leaned towards me, and hissed, “You will do as I say, otherwise your country will be reduced to a pile of rubble! Is that what you want?”</div><div>I slowly backed away from her and rushed out of the loo. As I walked to the cafe where I was supposed to meet my parents, I kept looking back, half expecting that woman to follow. I spotted them waiting at a table. Ma was reading a book or pretending to. You could never tell with her.</div><div>Baba was people-watching, his watchful eyes taking everything in, down to the last detail. This was his favourite hobby. When I was a kid, dining out was just another lesson in spycraft. I had to observe and memorise everything about the room, from the number of waitstaff to the exits and cameras, as well as the details of all the other diners — how many people at each table, what they were wearing, and their expressions. When I got older, Baba would pick a table and I had to place a listening device at that table without being caught. That’s not as difficult as it sounds. You’d be surprised at what all you can do with a timely twist of the ankle.</div><div>I knew that the moment I opened my mouth, that blank, expectant expression would turn into disapproval and disappointment, and my holiday would be ruined. I was not wrong.</div><div>“Ma.”</div><div>That’s all I needed to say. Ma’s eyes narrowed.</div><div>“Samira, you’re breathing hard and your pupils are dilated,” she announced, leaning forward to peer into my eyes, in full spy radar mode.</div><div>“What have you been up to?”</div><div>There it was, the implication that I was responsible for whatever had happened, like they were used to me messing up all the time. Normally, this was where I would get defensive and I’d lose the argument even before I spoke. Not this time. I took a deep breath and spoke as dispassionately as I could.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About the Author:</u></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBad04UheaD6JqsVNrmt6k726gYB1JQX3PS43nuprKcPd5GwMSUPvRdfHwfh0stVsBFplqUPNV2X-vi2FrkdBWGEyzms3H1c2wk9Jk16wyXCTINac7lx4hR2MND53hi_TFkomAC4wJoI/s1600/Apeksha+Rao.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1010" data-original-width="700" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBad04UheaD6JqsVNrmt6k726gYB1JQX3PS43nuprKcPd5GwMSUPvRdfHwfh0stVsBFplqUPNV2X-vi2FrkdBWGEyzms3H1c2wk9Jk16wyXCTINac7lx4hR2MND53hi_TFkomAC4wJoI/s200/Apeksha+Rao.jpg" width="138" /></a></div><div><div>Apeksha Rao is a multi genre author from Bangalore.</div><div><br /></div><div>She is the author of Along Came A Spyder, which is the story of a seventeen year old girl who wants to be spy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Apeksha has written many short stories based on the same series, The Spyders, which are available on this blog.</div><div>She is a voracious reader, and a foodie.</div><div><br /></div><div>Apeksha's current works in progress: A middle grade book, a chick lit featuring a detective, and a horror novel (the writing of which is giving her sleepless nights).</div></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Apeksha on the Web:</u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://apeksharao.in/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/ApekshaRaoOfficial/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/apekshar" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/rao.apeksha/" target="_blank">Instagram</a></b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-16374667414220592752020-09-14T22:05:00.000-07:002020-09-14T22:05:51.850-07:00<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2020/09/my-hearts-regret-by-shilpa-suraj.html" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;" target="_blank"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJ_PNcDpWi2de7Cg5QSZEYy2JOp1YyApT2rh_5FhC_aLwclmtYNYlrUiK1rRFSZh7mtubKxGrl3buFTDHEpgZarQfjgPKU0LcULqDWxj2bDyw9sUlqGPHwE1nFXogLnOJWUvw_Zk_5mI/s600/Banners+%25281%2529.png" width="600" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About the Book:</u></b></span><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiaakBcVTrp6Dur9o6GUilQT5sVz-BD_lS8zHmyTULkuemWXfMOP2fUu-pqHalAPW8P6f8FExVeHTvu8F4RO9vIO6aFac736TFxrDKhNQSfuuaPaIaMZ6k7H0SJg-NpaC9RRihGZfImh0/s2396/Final-+Heart%2527s+Regret.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2396" data-original-width="1601" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiaakBcVTrp6Dur9o6GUilQT5sVz-BD_lS8zHmyTULkuemWXfMOP2fUu-pqHalAPW8P6f8FExVeHTvu8F4RO9vIO6aFac736TFxrDKhNQSfuuaPaIaMZ6k7H0SJg-NpaC9RRihGZfImh0/s320/Final-+Heart%2527s+Regret.jpg" /></a></div><div><div>Samaira Reddy, the girl in the big house, the Bade Sahib's daughter, only wants one thing and one person...a life with her childhood sweetheart, her Rags.</div><div><br /></div><div>Raghav Cherukuri has always been known as the driver's son. And has also always loved his Sam, the girl he can never have and never forget. And so, he leaves her and his life in Hyderabad behind.</div><div>But now, Raghav is back. A Chief Officer in the Merchant Navy, he is the success he’s always wanted to be. And yet, he has failed.</div><div>Samaira is meeting the ‘perfect groom’ her family approves of…A man whom Raghav can never be.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Can it finally be their time to be together? Or has their happy-ever-after passed them by?</b></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>This novella was previously part of the anthology Something Old Something New.</i></div></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/55317301-my-heart-s-regret" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/2Fo4eQE" target="_blank">Amazon</a></b></span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYuWL0XX99BbsL2tQzfMkk9BOH9HRf6xLMqOiw2IyKPTCW7zU0GutMGbz44r09EIFOv5bnWWGEecZ0FTqmbvxTzNJyZodVIW3Mv7qvO5YxmZmc-N_EGup_DgqD6UM-48JyygfBTlyZklI/s1080/MHR+Quotes+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYuWL0XX99BbsL2tQzfMkk9BOH9HRf6xLMqOiw2IyKPTCW7zU0GutMGbz44r09EIFOv5bnWWGEecZ0FTqmbvxTzNJyZodVIW3Mv7qvO5YxmZmc-N_EGup_DgqD6UM-48JyygfBTlyZklI/w400-h400/MHR+Quotes+2.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h1 style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><u>Read an Excerpt from My Heart's Regret:</u></h1><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Why did you leave?” The question shot out of her taking them both by surprise. They stared at each other, a wealth of memories flooding the space between them. Years of hurt, months of pain and a million unspoken words crowded around them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Don’t.” He turned away from her, shaking his head. “Don’t do this.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Why not? You don’t think I deserve any kind of explanation?” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He opened the rear door of the car in response. “Are you ready to go home?” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Home?” She laughed, a bitter sound that floated in the air. “Is that still home to you?”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Are you ready to go back to your home?” The slight emphasis felt like a slap across her face.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“And that’s the truth of it, isn’t it?” She watched his face for a clue to his feelings. She found none. He was as stone-faced as ever.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“You don’t think of it as home anymore. When you left, you didn’t just leave to study and start your career. You left everything behind. Your home. Your past. Your…”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Yes.” His acceptance cut her off mid-rant. “I left it all behind. The poverty. The insults. The humiliation. I left my life here behind.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Is that all you left behind?” The words sliced through the night like a knife.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Raghav just stared at her, his eyes a cauldron of bottomless emotion. On a growl of frustration, she slid down from the car and stomped towards the door he still held open. Yanking it from his hand, she slammed it shut. Then she walked around the front of the car to the passenger door and got in.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A storm was coming. A loud rumble of thunder could be heard and the wind was picking up outside the car. It blew a lock of his unruly hair into his eyes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He didn’t notice but she did. Even through the tears stinging her eyes, she noticed everything about him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Raghav continued to stand, motionless by the rear door, his tightly clenched fists the only evidence of the emotion raging inside him. The first drops of rain started to pelt down drenching him in seconds.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Finally, he moved towards where she was sitting. Leaning down, he rapped on the window to get her to put it down.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Samaira obliged, arching an eyebrow in challenge.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> “Get out.” The words were gritted out through clenched teeth.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“No,” she snapped the word out.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Go sit in the back seat.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“No,” she said again as she settled more comfortably into the seat. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Sam, if someone sees…”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Let them.” She couldn’t care less.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Sam, please.” The plea was quiet, but it sliced through. “For my father’s sake.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Her heart broke at the words. She swiped at the tear that escaped and rolled down her cheek. Without looking at him, she stepped out of the car and got into the rear seat. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Raghav slid into the driver’s seat and put the car in gear.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">They drove home in silence, each lost in their own tortured thoughts. It wasn’t long before her house loomed in front of them. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">They were almost at the gate when she spoke, “Are you happy?”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Are you?”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">She laughed. The mirthless sound echoed between them as Ahmed Chacha waved them through the gates. “You’re not going to answer any of my questions, are you?”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Raghav sighed. “What’s the point of this conversation? Discussing the past is going to bring us nothing but more pain.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Alright. Let’s talk about the present. Why did you come back?”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Raghav brought the car to a halt outside her front door. “I came back for my parents.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Never for me,” she murmured. “You left me without a second thought.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Raghav, who was holding her door open, froze at the soft words. She stepped out of the car and around his still form. She wasn’t going to beg him for answers anymore.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“The thing is, Sam,” the whisper reached her through the violent noises of the stormy night, “You left me first.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About the Author:</u></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1BOoHVWtqpCL3bVwd9CA0Xz40MY-K6v0WXTA-z_AwipJIEmHyGBSLEv8NxcmS0NKLLsmshqf7omn1Cx5F9epiouXm5Sr15c92mDGqxQ4PTbZkgPKjy7NUjsbNjLVL4uCerFJRUPMl3Zc/s1280/Shilpa+Suraj.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="914" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1BOoHVWtqpCL3bVwd9CA0Xz40MY-K6v0WXTA-z_AwipJIEmHyGBSLEv8NxcmS0NKLLsmshqf7omn1Cx5F9epiouXm5Sr15c92mDGqxQ4PTbZkgPKjy7NUjsbNjLVL4uCerFJRUPMl3Zc/w183-h256/Shilpa+Suraj.jpeg" width="183" /></a></div><br /><br /><br />Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.<br /><br />An avid reader with an overactive imagination, Shilpa has weaved stories in her head since she was a child. Her previous stints at Google, in an ad agency and as an entrepreneur provide colour to her present day stories, both fiction and non-fiction.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Contact the Author:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://shilpasuraj.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/shilpasuraj/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/shilpasuraj/" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shilpa.suraj/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> * <a href="http://eepurl.com/dt-Br9" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></b></span></div></div></div><div><br /></div>Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-49266546225950446482020-09-01T04:16:00.010-07:002020-09-01T04:55:18.864-07:00Book Review<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhF_yyTYVIsrDjFwod-zpufUYb3xUiZpPEt4KHwKNUcQn2V0g4RI6UhF8DM813Xex5PE7Usmt-Dswa17IsJ3QamsoY8ykivCcW5-A0SyH4dtoUA1EMbdnn9F3qmMyWSkDh48L0m9swLd8/s1024/Banner+copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhF_yyTYVIsrDjFwod-zpufUYb3xUiZpPEt4KHwKNUcQn2V0g4RI6UhF8DM813Xex5PE7Usmt-Dswa17IsJ3QamsoY8ykivCcW5-A0SyH4dtoUA1EMbdnn9F3qmMyWSkDh48L0m9swLd8/s640/Banner+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: black; color: #aba39e; font-family: vollkorn; font-size: 15px; text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Book: The Backyard Tales <o:p></o:p></span><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1311" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1Jd-iLXdfjLNQzLU4_L2e09lzBiNrWIqS5qzFrLhvbM0UabrhBA2b6i6kaBa5RkiL8J1egZigtoPh1OKEGrKhQAFgnci3BQEnW2Hihqa4c-6TlQq7oxioXxOkBrxc0N1uTwB5GZWHH4/w128-h200/Cover+Image.jpg" style="color: #fce5cd; text-align: center;" width="128" /></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: black;"><b><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Vollkorn; font-size: 15px;">Publisher: <o:p></o:p></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 15px;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Vollkorn;">Buzz ePub; 1st Edition (August 6, 2020)</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: black;"><b><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Vollkorn; font-size: 15px;">Publication Date: <o:p></o:p></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 15px;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Vollkorn;"> August 6, 2020</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: black; color: #aba39e; font-family: vollkorn; font-size: 15px;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><b>Language: English<o:p></o:p></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: black;"><b><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Vollkorn; font-size: 15px;">Pages : <o:p></o:p></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 15px;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Vollkorn;">162 pages</span></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: black; clear: both; color: #aba39e; font-family: vollkorn; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: black; color: #aba39e; font-family: vollkorn; font-size: 15px; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: black; color: #aba39e; font-family: vollkorn; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: vollkorn; text-align: center;"><div style="background-color: black; color: #aba39e; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><b style="color: #f3f3f3;"><u>Aniesha Brahma</u></b></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-bc8d2d4d-7fff-425d-1b97-ef22efcba6d6"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 14pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffe599;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="606" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixCUrxcqgRTW-314W2OAJxxjKWB-21kFWwukI2rouUKVo9g0BA22KHDhhhwXHGKvWmpFxFRQEkGwCPzOF4pjBzkyW62C152e4hmW3Bw8A1wYDcDFaaZ9mazhaU2lSRoTOv1OK73z9Wylg/w281-h320/Author+Pic.jpg" width="281" /></span></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 14pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ffe599;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Young Adult and Children’s novelist, </span><a href="https://www.amazon.in/Aniesha-Brahma/e/B00TNIDTIK?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1595094735&sr=8-1" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aniesha Brahma</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, studied Comparative Literature. She started her career has as a social media manager in a publishing house. Currently works as a senior content writer in a digital media agency. When she is not working, she is dreaming up stories, conducting sessions for her popular YouTube Series, </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCw5QfI-3cM0DLIMU7rAhfMw?view_as=subscriber" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Chai & Chill</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, or planning how to get even more books and bookish content to readers via </span><a href="http://www.buzzmagazineindia.com/" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">BUZZ Magazine</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. You can read more of her work at </span><a href="https://www.anieshabrahma.com/" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aniesha’s Musings</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and drop a line at: </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="mailto:aniesha.brahma@gmail.com" style="text-decoration-line: none;">aniesha.brahma@gmail.com</a></span></i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #fce5cd;"></span></span></p></span><blockquote><span id="docs-internal-guid-bc8d2d4d-7fff-425d-1b97-ef22efcba6d6"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #fce5cd;"><i style="background-color: black;">The Backyard Tales is the story of the bond shared between 17-year-old Mia Basu Roy and her beloved cat, Pippo. She seems to understand him far too well for a human. And he seems have another life that Mia begins to suspect. She follows her cat to their backyard and down a very dangerous road which leads her to witches, talking animals, and a story that’s much bigger than what she initially suspected. </i></span></span></p></span></blockquote><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAS7dA-kFCt8JpN7-mNOOER95YAv91gGtJIa3nDZX9b_bgg8Nz9GkVQ1A9xytlYiGUyEuNqPCv6F4BE9AfQYUpfsGaf3_b3ZfQoJU3uH9FwRm-ls-uLiSjglHTsp1gb-ZQ6PWZBa1LPp4/s2048/walking-animation-by-blackrozepetal-cat-png-gif-png-transparent-download-cat-png-gif-2469_1893.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1570" data-original-width="2048" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAS7dA-kFCt8JpN7-mNOOER95YAv91gGtJIa3nDZX9b_bgg8Nz9GkVQ1A9xytlYiGUyEuNqPCv6F4BE9AfQYUpfsGaf3_b3ZfQoJU3uH9FwRm-ls-uLiSjglHTsp1gb-ZQ6PWZBa1LPp4/w200-h153/walking-animation-by-blackrozepetal-cat-png-gif-png-transparent-download-cat-png-gif-2469_1893.gif" width="200" /></a></div><br /> <b><u><span style="color: #d9ead3;">Cats don't ask for the moon; they're already stars. - Odin Wilde</span></u></b><p></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><b><u><span style="color: #d9ead3;"><br /></span></u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: #d9ead3;">My entire childhood was spent reading all the Enid Blyton and Harry Books I could get my hands on, watching all the Barbie movie series, and always wondering why such mystical lands and stories did not exist in India. If at all there existed any stories of magic, they were strongly based on occult superstitions and horrifying black magic related stuff, and that too only in movies, not in books that were in English. All these long years of waiting, and finally this book delivers me from that plaguing thought that no Indian has tried to place those mesmerizing magical elements on Indian soil to spin a yarn that is at the same time mystical and intriguing. As Mia Basu finds her connection with her cat strengthening day by day, the connection between the natural world and human innocence itself seems to find an unfathomable interlinking through their ever blossoming kinship. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: #d9ead3;">Most of us might have pets who are closer to us, whom we consider our little siblings and those little creatures who always seem to find that sweet spot with our mothers who initially objected from bringing them home at all and finally end up having our furry friends tailing them like a shadow wherever she goes! Pippo is no different and as intelligent and cunning as cats can get, he also takes up the mantle of a fierce warrior, first fighting to win his freedom from the tight confines of home, fighting to prove that he is not a spoiled house cat, fighting to save his fellow friends and even putting his life on the line to save his "mini owner", the cat never fails to prove his mettle! </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: #d9ead3;">The meticulous details in the musings and exchanges of the animals and the well-structured plot seamlessly weaves together mystery enshrouds the incidents that unfold within the story. The characters themselves are familiar, yet unfamiliar in a way that it is easy to picturize them, but impossible to predict their actions or feelings. The sudden courage that Shekhar finds when facing his father, the odd way in which Ricky deals with his perpetually quarreling parents and the instinctively unpredictable actions Mia adopts to come to the aid of her furry friends are all relatable but unassuming. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;">Something alluring is to me the realization on the predictive nature of humans to readily revamp any unused, abandoned building or plot to replace it with something profitable without much thought on what would it do to the stray animals who seek shelter in such places. An old big tree when facing the threat of being chopped down swiftly attracts the attention of nature lovers who categorically argue left and right on the importance of the tree sustaining a healthy ecosystem within and around it. But an old building facing the threat of demolition is never thought of as anything other than an eyesore to anyone without considering how even a building of such could be a shelter for the stray. Security reasons apart, we have been forcefully claiming land and shelter of the living creatures in vast areas and are reluctant to maintain any sort of wild patches in our vicinity, afraid of the wild dogs or cats or even snakes it could possibly shelter. <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Backyard Tales</i> emphatically gives voice and purpose to those stray animals who are threatened by the imminent loss of their shelter and refuge. We are immediately threatened by the sight of a stray dog around our place and like Mia are afraid of the safety of our own pets and lock up all possible entrances and clear up all overgrowth or abandoned buildings or sheds without to thought to the animals around who might need a shelter somewhere from the cold of the nights, the heat of the sun and the wet rains. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><i> </i>Delving into this exchange between Pippo and Brown we see how they don't even know if and where they could find a place to even sleep:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><i>""Well", the street cat said, slowly, "you have a home to go to at 2am. Do you know where I am going to sleep at 2 am?"</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"> <i> Pippo shrugged his furry shoulders. Brown let out a sigh and said, "Even I don't know. Which is sad Pippo. Those who live on the streets have to find a different home every single day".</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><i><br /></i></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><i style="color: #d9ead3; text-align: left;"> </i><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3; text-align: left;">The book is more than a fantasy novel that traces the relationship between a girl and her cat or the adventures they share or narrating how two worlds (animal and human, mortals and magicians, the domesticated and the stray) collide on many different planes, but also tentatively makes us think of the insecurity and vagueness of the next moment the animals in the wild face. </span> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiliqJi8WP5wqoW6_fbAlAhL-19mcFr3LiCLD8whXbnnhFKByPPbpP-epkMOUhzi3Y41wNpONrvFUmiZ_LSxng2bhE6MwRUlPWUlIo5uNNC1gpGJS-H2wOodnGyzrn41EywO9AOZ6OUMmU/s511/8109402483_54b2cc5ce8_o.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="511" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiliqJi8WP5wqoW6_fbAlAhL-19mcFr3LiCLD8whXbnnhFKByPPbpP-epkMOUhzi3Y41wNpONrvFUmiZ_LSxng2bhE6MwRUlPWUlIo5uNNC1gpGJS-H2wOodnGyzrn41EywO9AOZ6OUMmU/s0/8109402483_54b2cc5ce8_o.gif" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="background-color: black; color: #fce5cd; font-family: georgia; text-align: justify; white-space: pre-wrap;">Read this story to discover all of Mia and Pippo’s secrets, be enchanted by magic, and get the answer to a question that has haunted us for ages: does a cat truly love their owner? </i></div><blockquote><blockquote><span id="docs-internal-guid-bc8d2d4d-7fff-425d-1b97-ef22efcba6d6"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 14pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"></p></span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><span id="docs-internal-guid-bc8d2d4d-7fff-425d-1b97-ef22efcba6d6"><p dir="ltr" style="font-family: "times new roman"; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #a2c4c9;">Book Purchase Links</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="font-family: "times new roman"; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #a2c4c9;"><a href="https://www.amazon.in/dp/B08FDZB5SF/ref=as_li_ss_tl" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Amazon India</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> |<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Backyard-Tales-Aniesha-Brahma-ebook/dp/B08FDZB5SF/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=backyard+tales&qid=1598857127&sr=8-1" target="_blank"> </a></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Backyard-Tales-Aniesha-Brahma-ebook/dp/B08FDZB5SF/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=backyard+tales&qid=1598857127&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 14pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #fce5cd;"><span style="background-color: black;"></span><i style="background-color: black;"><br /></i></span></p></span><span style="background-color: black;"><b><u></u></b></span></blockquote><span><b><u><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-ea07550e-7fff-dd3c-5e3d-37971d49f2ac" style="font-weight: normal;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b4a7d6;"><i style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Catch Up with </span><a href="https://www.amazon.in/Aniesha-Brahma/e/B00TNIDTIK?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1595094735&sr=8-1" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aniesha Brahma</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> on Social Medi</span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">a</span></i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-c6578b59-7fff-7c5f-7584-b348aac44518"></span></span></p><h4 style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #93c47d;"><a href="www.instagram.com/anieshabrahma" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="-webkit-text-decoration-skip: none; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Instagram</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> | </span><a href="www.instagram.com/anieshabrahma" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="-webkit-text-decoration-skip: none; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Twitter </span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">| </span><a href="www.instagram.com/anieshabrahma" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="-webkit-text-decoration-skip: none; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Facebook </span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">| </span><a href="www.anieshabrahma.com" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="-webkit-text-decoration-skip: none; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Website</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">| </span><a href="mailto:aniesha.brahma@gmail.com" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="-webkit-text-decoration-skip: none; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Email</span></a></span></h4><div style="background-color: black;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: black; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMmpMWTUGiHGTliuh8w_295U5FmvVjhQ3PhDI8iND9htYHo79NA1m4o9g-_kEvZ1b949tFGrNDA9eaG13ZfEbGEKkmASGeOJ9UD9JHIRVXgLoZo-o0od8oqpZ8xftu00FNCLXplEo5r2I/s716/Paw-Divider.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="716" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMmpMWTUGiHGTliuh8w_295U5FmvVjhQ3PhDI8iND9htYHo79NA1m4o9g-_kEvZ1b949tFGrNDA9eaG13ZfEbGEKkmASGeOJ9UD9JHIRVXgLoZo-o0od8oqpZ8xftu00FNCLXplEo5r2I/s640/Paw-Divider.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="background-color: black;"><br /></div></span></div></u></b></span></div>Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-56897915385905386792020-08-31T00:07:00.006-07:002020-09-01T01:04:19.462-07:00<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPHpnpnc7vDmDp869wYyOYf58ezBDWClAH6KtGnZuhrrbH874lOS_AZVNPxp9W7J-JpT6ep-xPJ-51rreZh68rDoio2HUzVO1voHaTNnglI4sCTxHqEp46mme2jaBeLsXWy1nGdad51aM/s640/Banner+copy.jpg" width="640" /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #f6b26b;">The Backyard Tales relates the story of 17-year-old Mia Basu Roy and her beloved cat, Pippo. She seems to understand him far too well for a human. And he seems to have another life that Mia begins to suspect. She follows her cat to their backyard and down a very dangerous road which leads her to witches, talking animals, and a story that’s much bigger than what she initially suspected. </span></i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #f6b26b;"> </span></i></p><p><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #f6b26b;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-ef82ba8b-7fff-205d-efc9-09794e7dc999"></span></span></i></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #f6b26b;">Read this story to discover all of Mia and Pippo’s secrets, be enchanted by magic, and get the answer to a question that has haunted us for ages: does a cat truly love their owner? </span></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.in/Backyard-Tales-Aniesha-Brahma-ebook/dp/B08FDZB5SF/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=backyard+tales&qid=1598857044&s=books&sr=1-1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="125" data-original-width="339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizhppB_8ydLcEzxQ4QMbgANYmhUwbZlMxdCPCnXK3dO6JKnkAffrVL4UiQganzo8E24Z5P9aGE13c1x0_U3_KpI8oULZh2oPaV8cOCSYecxjMeX7aX82W5ojlpDOuJarsCLFP8lITArgA/s0/dbhpj2y-50d2bd48-1978-433b-af2d-b14832058422.png" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1311" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAk6tq6WAWqpenBMI8U9kRlx2bTis_okRHP5u7I-IXEHpDhr0y__Say_TmjjUEw64_X4TX3tZsbuCwYFI-D9GXve9SKj26AUhyphenhyphenMTlT8nFG8WZQBjALO6J4aOIupSdsfs6GDN4RbnqBTQE/s640/Cover+Image.jpg" /></div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Amazon India</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> | </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Backyard-Tales-Aniesha-Brahma-ebook/dp/B08FDZB5SF/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=backyard+tales&qid=1598857127&sr=8-1" style="text-decoration: none;">Amazon</a>.com</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="76" data-original-width="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2x4l6l6M9FxwX-ZMAKzGwcIf81gbsxczZ-lP3rjpCoAG29uNT9YauJeo3OiqbKJIve3e8CnK7NXacv9sPa0yCtEhANY5JEz1Tip4pyv1bxgO5qar7HT7vsyUbJiTICAISVR8TUpT3pE/s0/cat_divider_by_nymnk_dav9cv0-fullview.png" /></div><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #a2c4c9;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-bdf0257c-7fff-4085-19da-7f123c1e9703"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;">Author Guest Post </span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><br /></span></i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><br /></span></i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;">How Does One Find the Inspiration to Write Stories? </span></i></span></p><h1 style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">"</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt;">I sincerely believe that inspiration can be found anywhere, if you are brave enough for it. As writers we are constantly writing stories in our head. Whether the other person realizes it or not. To me personally, sometimes inspiration walks on four paws, has a tail and says ‘meow’.</span></span></i></span></h1><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack London once said, “</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You cannot wait for inspiration to strike. Sometimes you need to go after it with a club.”</span></span></i></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;">In this article today, I thought I would about how I was inspired by the most unlikely of things to write either a full-fledged novel or a short story. </span></i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let’s start at the very beginning. The novel that has proved to have a life its own. And despite being published back in 2012 is one of the most beloved of my stories till date – my debut novel, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Secret Proposal. </span></span></i></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember talking to one of my best friends from college about crazy, childhood crushes and the effect it had on us. While hers was intense mine was seasonal. I got over it with time…but a part of me couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if things had been different. It would have been fun, right? Maybe the person would help me dodge idiotic parties too. I remember being at a party bored out of my mind when the story of Jasmine and Veer took root in my brain. I wrote it like an episodic novel, sharing it little by little, with my readership on FictionPress. It </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">was </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">fun. When I tried to publish the next year – it found a home with General Press. </span></span></i></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A lot of the short stories I wrote on my blog in the subsequent years were also born for this little whispers of ‘</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">what if’</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and what follows has been me telling the story to myself first. My short story, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Written in the Stars</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, was inspired by the thought of people being friends in the virtual world and having no idea who they were in the real world. But the story, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Walk</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, was inspired by an actual walk I had taken, via the actual routes mentioned in the story, with a friend of mine. </span></span></i></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sometimes, inspiration comes from dark places. And that’s why my story, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Something Wicked This Way Comes </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is a shade darker than my usual purple-pink skies, roses and sunshine, stories. I was annoyed. I wanted to kill someone. So I did. In a story, of course.</span></span></i></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was in a similar vein, that I wrote </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Strangest Thing </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">as well. I had a few emotions I needed to process and writing through them is how I know how to work through things. </span></span></i></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Earlier this year, I wrote the short story, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How to Say I Love You Out Loud. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A short story set in the </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When Our Worlds Collide/Meet Again </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">universe. That was inspired from my desire to revisit where my characters could be right now, and the subtle desire to write something cutesy and romantic. </span></span></i></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-83fcc28f-7fff-d094-40ef-94f959b41685"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Finally, it was the love for my cat, Pippo, that made me dream up the world of </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Backyard Tales</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. I fictionalized a lot of what happened during the initial years of adopting him and our journey forwards in this novel. It honestly is a piece of my heart. My last gift in memory of a cat snatched from this world too soon. If you read it, I hope you are transported into the world that Mia and Pippo have inhabited in and made their own. </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-large;">"</span></span></span></i></span></h1><div><span><i><span style="color: #d9ead3;"><span style="background-color: black; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGLnU8Q2GEbc3sAyB6ixq9UvnLoQdfmRZRGgy2zj8IktPQ7uMM_n_xbC8ZCvlq4lAqmQ-JKlG3grXyM4D5COJ9y41e1uj9n9ErGJl2NpW-gmnr4TDb6y_dWt3PyL4lhj6hxZRTd0nvFDk/s511/8109402483_54b2cc5ce8_o.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="511" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGLnU8Q2GEbc3sAyB6ixq9UvnLoQdfmRZRGgy2zj8IktPQ7uMM_n_xbC8ZCvlq4lAqmQ-JKlG3grXyM4D5COJ9y41e1uj9n9ErGJl2NpW-gmnr4TDb6y_dWt3PyL4lhj6hxZRTd0nvFDk/s0/8109402483_54b2cc5ce8_o.gif" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline;">Author Bio</span></div></span></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span><i><span style="color: #d9ead3;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: black; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></span></i></span></div><div><span id="docs-internal-guid-b22f7bb1-7fff-215d-ed5b-129b2524dc8a"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 14pt; margin-top: 14pt; text-align: right;"><span style="background-color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="648" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6DoDWgKITkr4T-iLCw-9jRttiETpQqD9Q_bsq8CDsa8uVvT5GZ7XmPwt4j-Pzlj024z4vhaoU8iz7POv7P_-d1gRNhfeCnNw4d_8DFQY8ejU4BJ-Sjm9Ppa280ZLxwBqiJZd69upxoU/w180-h320/Author+Pic.jpg" style="text-align: left;" width="180" /><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Yo</span></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">un</span></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">g Adu</span></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">lt and Chidren’s novelist, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.amazon.in/Aniesha-Brahma/e/B00TNIDTIK?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1595094735&sr=8-1" style="text-decoration-line: none;">A</a></span></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"><a href="https://www.amazon.in/Aniesha-Brahma/e/B00TNIDTIK?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1595094735&sr=8-1" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">niesha Brahma</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, studied Comparative Literatu</span></span><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">re. She started her career has as a social media manager in a publishing house. Currently works as a senior content writer in a digital media agency. When she is not working, she is dreaming up stories, conducting sessions for her popular YouTube Series, </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCw5QfI-3cM0DLIMU7rAhfMw?view_as=subscriber" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Chai & Chill</span></a><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, or planning how to get even more books and bookish content to readers via </span><a href="http://www.buzzmagazineindia.com/" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">BUZZ Magazine</span></a><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. You can read more of her work at </span><a href="https://www.anieshabrahma.com/" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aniesha’s Musings</span></a><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and drop a line at: </span><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="mailto:aniesha.brahma@gmail.com" style="text-decoration-line: none;">aniesha.brahma@gmail.com</a></span></span></p><div><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span></div><div><span id="docs-internal-guid-6be27e7d-7fff-ac2d-456b-b7e573d9c7c4"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><i style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Catch Up with </span><a href="https://www.amazon.in/Aniesha-Brahma/e/B00TNIDTIK?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1595094735&sr=8-1" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aniesha Brahma</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> on Social Medi</span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">a</span></i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #d5a6bd;"><i style="background-color: black;"> </i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0000ee; font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-size: 13.3333px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><u style="background-color: black;"><a href="www.instagram.com/anieshabrahma">Instagram</a> | <a href="www.twitter.com/anieshabrahma">Twitter</a> | <a href="www.facebook.com/anieshabrahmaauthor">Facebook</a> | <a href="www.anieshabrahma.com">Website</a>| <a href="mailto:aniesha.brahma@gmail.com">Email</a></u></i></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPvtclRWB6YpIw2fuTWQWMTbuVObhwWVI-nB1P_gUsD2up4dCCqk4G8OoyV6X3XHvlpskIJw4z_sM_74WmanEvhbazcJgrXdEiQD7w4TfN5BVGtTK3HiUEY2pOgMTVjlbMvYFx7s4rpOw/s480/giphy.gif" style="background-color: black; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPvtclRWB6YpIw2fuTWQWMTbuVObhwWVI-nB1P_gUsD2up4dCCqk4G8OoyV6X3XHvlpskIJw4z_sM_74WmanEvhbazcJgrXdEiQD7w4TfN5BVGtTK3HiUEY2pOgMTVjlbMvYFx7s4rpOw/w320-h320/giphy.gif" width="320" /></a></div><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span><div><br /></div></span></div></span></div>Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-14394130060501447812020-08-28T04:52:00.007-07:002020-08-31T00:12:17.786-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL2GQp4pLNLEhHnvVBiXA8YfreT06hamcLrFZwLZdgHWA6nIVhutQAAACSsK4uJ7Oq3VmqxMrW54TKi3GwsnXm5chTJaaSW2ziyUtQmfbhNj8e0cmx9SXPq5Kf5srL2TBwfPEzsgmPpK0/s640/Banner.png" width="640" /></div><span style="background-color: black;"><br /><span id="docs-internal-guid-ab8997ab-7fff-7afa-1528-867b4cb1dc58"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwnU-yLnU3TBoYrDvmPGS9XZOMjWNVRW9c94GywyEfnEpKunwV8wtgw7G3HWO9Pp1jFpNePtpitRoBAUTH07w5IXUvjiCHYNTbAB7Hi8RxSxnHrY7mY7k6PDbFRSmbDDiYyL8tQB-aees/s512/unnamed.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="88" data-original-width="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwnU-yLnU3TBoYrDvmPGS9XZOMjWNVRW9c94GywyEfnEpKunwV8wtgw7G3HWO9Pp1jFpNePtpitRoBAUTH07w5IXUvjiCHYNTbAB7Hi8RxSxnHrY7mY7k6PDbFRSmbDDiYyL8tQB-aees/s0/unnamed.png" /></a></div><br /><h1 style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">The Backyard Tales</span></i><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> speaks of the bond between 17-year-old Mia Basu Roy and her beloved cat, Pippo. She seems to understand him far too well for a human. And he seems to have another life that Mia begins to suspect. She follows her cat to their backyard and down a very dangerous road that sweeps her away to the realm of witches, talking animals, and something that’s much bigger than what she initially suspected. </span></span></h1><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"> </p></span></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i style="background-color: black; color: #f9cb9c; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Read the story to discover all of Mia and Pippo’s secrets, be enchanted by magic, and get the answer to a question that has haunted us for ages: does a cat truly love their owner? <span> </span><span> <span> </span><span> </span></span></i><br /></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span><p style="background-color: black; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i><span><span></span></span></i></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWsyZXyJY216ZSpAA6Ox5QQwdLUnejnf50jMr1rvRRXgbYBN4edFiVoHuHBK3_Xe4dRetIURQWqk5phrWikxI6ucbcrosoUxZ1hbaaPP1uDWm8I1uoxak9tww-epa6pKFGVhSj3xdI0-I/s1976/source.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="755" data-original-width="1976" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWsyZXyJY216ZSpAA6Ox5QQwdLUnejnf50jMr1rvRRXgbYBN4edFiVoHuHBK3_Xe4dRetIURQWqk5phrWikxI6ucbcrosoUxZ1hbaaPP1uDWm8I1uoxak9tww-epa6pKFGVhSj3xdI0-I/s640/source.gif" width="640" /></a></span></span></i></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i><span><span><br /></span></span></i></span></span><p></p></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span><p style="background-color: black; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i><span><span></span></span></i></span></span></p></span></blockquote></blockquote><span style="background-color: black;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><i>Book Purchase Link</i></span></span></p><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><i><br /></i></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><i><a href="https://www.amazon.in/dp/B08FDZB5SF/ref=as_li_ss_tl" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Amazon India</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> | </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08FDZB5SF/ref=as_li_ss_tl" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Amazon USA</span></a></i></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8;">Book Excerpt</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1311" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhkIPqcXyP6jpB9ChxdcN2Cc7uddDV9XnO1RCJHiv3fMvS-Lu1bvFSwIdGHZDeeDZtuSbpe_EnibbEs9DieFMKwhgQ1nn6BYRkkvz9R1hOYjvkZFWqdzbG8yAN_n9VYbZdHlkumNptTU/s640/Cover+Image.jpg" /></span></div><span style="color: #b6d7a8;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ead1dc;"><i>Cats are inquisitive, but hate to admit it. - Mason Cooley</i></span></span></p><h1 dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.28; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ead1dc;"><i>Chapter Five: The Witch</i></span></span></h1><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">Pippo had often heard his mini owner recall old times when she and her friend, Shekhar, had dared each other to go to their house’s backyard. She had laughed about the idea that it was probably haunted, because she knew for a fact it couldn’t be. He knew otherwise now. Only, it wasn’t haunted by spooky spirits. It was haunted instead by a witch. The Witch all the animals seemed to be scared of.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">“So the backyard, is haunted?” Pippo said in a breath, “Only by…her?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">“Has Brown and White finally answered my summons?” asked the Witch, now coming into focus.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">She looked exactly like Pippo had seen in the television shows Mia would watch. She was clad from head to foot in black. Even her nails had been painted in black. Only, she was exceptionally pretty, almost as though her beauty was bewitching. And on her shoulder was perched, Mr.Crow.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">“She means you, fluffy head,” said Brown, swatting Pippo lightly on the head.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">“My name is PippoBasu Roy,” growled Pippo, angrily at Brown. He licked his left paw, and rubbed the same against his ears.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">“Oh, he’s a keeper,” hooted Brown, “Since when do cats have surnames?” “Enough!” thundered the Witch, “I will not have any of that in my courtroom.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">“Courtroom,” whispered Pippo in shock. Recovering a little he spat, “Who are you kidding, lady? This is my mini owner’s backyard.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">“Mini owner!” thundered the Witch, narrowing her eyes at the new member of her little animal kingdom, “Do you not know you belong to me now?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">“I belong to no one,” Pippo snarled at her, “If anything – mini owner belongs to me!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">“Indeed she does,” laughed the Witch, “Tell me, if I were to kill you now in cold blood, would she come and stop me?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">She inched nearer to Pippo, who stood his ground. He growled, baring his teeth, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">“Do you really think biting me is going to get you anywhere, you obnoxious ball of fur?” asked the Witch, “I am a witch, damn it.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">“Now,” said Pippo, not taking his eyes off her for a second, “Do you have a name, Miss Witch? Or should I just keep calling you Witch?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">“Oh, now he’s done it,” said Brown, hooting with laughter.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">He got smacked on the head by White Little almost immediately, “Don’t laugh. Don’t you see how serious this could get?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIfZyIkZHYZ0mYGqSAV_sbOtJsDrcPopYFZU4j-l0_p1eerFnbCRuHF5QRHV6Df7a2cVuTbFQjP_bJrvrXBf5T-seJ0DNFHDNrhVFZtDbSgzj9WAM_vgmoajuCSqJF_6eCWdkoIg5yl3E/s500/PointlessUncomfortableAgouti-max-1mb.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="282" data-original-width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIfZyIkZHYZ0mYGqSAV_sbOtJsDrcPopYFZU4j-l0_p1eerFnbCRuHF5QRHV6Df7a2cVuTbFQjP_bJrvrXBf5T-seJ0DNFHDNrhVFZtDbSgzj9WAM_vgmoajuCSqJF_6eCWdkoIg5yl3E/s0/PointlessUncomfortableAgouti-max-1mb.gif" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: 700; white-space: pre-wrap;">Author Bio</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 14pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #b4a7d6;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Young Adult and Children’s novelist, </span><a href="https://www.amazon.in/Aniesha-Brahma/e/B00TNIDTIK?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1595094735&sr=8-1" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aniesha Brahma</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, studied Comparative Literature. She started her career has as a social media manager in a publishing house. Currently works as a senior content writer in a digital media agency. When she is not working, she is dreaming up stories, conducting sessions for her popular YouTube Series, </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCw5QfI-3cM0DLIMU7rAhfMw?view_as=subscriber" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Chai & Chill</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, or planning how to get even more books and bookish content to readers via </span><a href="http://www.buzzmagazineindia.com/" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">BUZZ Magazine</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. You can read more of her work at </span><a href="https://www.anieshabrahma.com/" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aniesha’s Musings</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and drop a line at: </span><a href="mailto:aniesha.brahma@gmail.com" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">aniesha.brahma@gmail.com</span></a></span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #b4a7d6;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS-ie1qRHiDRheXsrQOL63A2njpLZg5JDb6WLJIGrOPrJI7hlQNyzqjlqWepmxFx_nn8uP6HFSpJ2pr7aO8GTIQ3kC1PtZ04O94SMJ1WBLGPBLy7LYfmpr6VWbzr_eZJpDuyusC-TCcnA/s1152/Author+Pic.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS-ie1qRHiDRheXsrQOL63A2njpLZg5JDb6WLJIGrOPrJI7hlQNyzqjlqWepmxFx_nn8uP6HFSpJ2pr7aO8GTIQ3kC1PtZ04O94SMJ1WBLGPBLy7LYfmpr6VWbzr_eZJpDuyusC-TCcnA/s640/Author+Pic.jpg" /></a></span></i></div><i><span style="color: #b4a7d6;"><br /></span></i></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Catch Up with </span><a href="https://www.amazon.in/Aniesha-Brahma/e/B00TNIDTIK?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1595094735&sr=8-1" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aniesha Brahma</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> on Social Medi</span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">a</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #9fc5e8;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #9fc5e8;"><a href="www.instagram.com/anieshabrahma" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Instagram</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> | </span><a href="www.twitter.com/anieshabrahma" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Twitter </span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; 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text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span></div><br />Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-69104681116020944442020-08-10T04:01:00.018-07:002020-08-10T11:23:25.396-07:00Guest Post - Charmeljun Gallardo & Grand Giveaway!!!!!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="background-color: black;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GH7wselSSQxnW1CYf1vkCha4st8GZfzWVhthcEuUmPr32BiUUVAC0dxaGJgFR40wQwYWhnx601Cw7znTAIl_WRF36rrAU3s42X4cY0l4suxCqk1PxqynZfHr8RQlTfwcx1pP8HuB6uM/s2048/Author+Pic.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GH7wselSSQxnW1CYf1vkCha4st8GZfzWVhthcEuUmPr32BiUUVAC0dxaGJgFR40wQwYWhnx601Cw7znTAIl_WRF36rrAU3s42X4cY0l4suxCqk1PxqynZfHr8RQlTfwcx1pP8HuB6uM/s640/Author+Pic.jpeg" /></a></div><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></i></div><p></p><h2 style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: center;"><b style="background-color: black; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">Charmeljun Gallardo is a former Radiologist and author. His first book is </span><i><span style="color: #f4cccc;">Ready for the World </span></i><span style="color: #ffe599;">young adult book series. He graduated from San Francisco State University with a Creative Writing degree in 1996. He is a writer, photography enthusiast, sports fan, movie geek, stroke survivor, and an adventurous foodie. He lives in San Diego, California with his wife and son. </span></b></h2><h2 style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: center;"><b><u><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></span></u></b></h2><h2 style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: center;"><b><u><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></span></u></b></h2><h2 style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: center;"><b><u><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3; font-size: x-large;">Author's Writing Process</span></i></span></u></b></h2><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;"><u></u> <u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;">''I was still in high school when I first came up with the idea of writing a book. It began as a personal journal before I put it in narrative form. At first, the stories were like wish fulfillment. I changed events here and there to have things be better for my lead character. He was never at fault and like Mary Poppins, practically perfect in every way. In other words, he was boring. But again, I was young. I was as green as a blade of grass and my stories were just as thin.<u></u><u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;"><u></u> <u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;">It was when I got to college when everything changed. I knew how to write, but didn’t know about the craft. Writing is more than descriptions, plot, and setting. It was about how all of those things work together to create a theme and atmosphere. And most importantly, a writer needs to have the audience see, hear, and feel what the characters do so that it resonates with them.<u></u><u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;"><u></u> <u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;">And because of that, I nearly quit. <u></u><u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;"><u></u> <u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;">I would read what my fellow students wrote and saw how well they crafted their stories. Their stories were immersive and nuanced, full of interesting characters, and colored with vivid descriptions. And mine didn’t feel much different than my high school stories: amateurish, unsophisticated, and dull.<u></u><u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;">I came to see my professor that I didn’t have what it took to be a writer. I was going to find another major or move back home. She said she would honor my request, but not before I tried again. And then she told me to “let go.” <u></u><u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;"><u></u> <u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;">It didn’t matter what the other students were writing or what kind of world they’d built. It only matters what my story was. She would be there to help me craft it. She said that everyone had a story and it didn’t matter what it was about. But I had to be the one to tell mine. <u></u><u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;"><u></u> <u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;">I struggled through it, but as tough as they were, my college days were invaluable to me. I made a lot of mistakes but was encouraged to make them. The best thing in the world to me was getting my drafts back with my professor’s red marks everywhere. Writing is rewriting. And rewriting. And rewriting...<u></u><u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;"><u></u> <u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;">I came back to these nearly twenty years after I first wrote it. I cringed at all the clichés and the stilted dialogue, but I thought the bones for a good story was there. I wanted to make sure that the music, movies, sports, celebrities, and fashion that I referenced were within the time periods in the book. The same went for the slang and language. I know that a web search for 80’s slang will bring up “gag me with a spoon” or “tubular.” But that’s not how my friends and I talked. It was important to me that the characters used the slang we used then and just as important to not include the slang I use now.<u></u><u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;"><u></u> <u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;">And lastly, I wanted my characters to be smart and witty, but fallible. They are too old to be thought of as children but too young to be fully judged as adults. Teenagers are curious, emotional, and impulsive. And they’re also capable of incredible acts of charity, beauty, and creation. But that’s what being a teenager is. That’s the time to succeed and fail, reach highs and lows, love and lose, and do it all over again.<u></u><u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;"><u></u> <u></u></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;">And hopefully, as adults, that’s a lesson we’ll keep going with us. ''</span></i></span></p></div><p><span style="background-color: black;"><i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"> </span></i><b style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><u><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 18pt;"><span style="color: #ead1dc;">Catch up with Charmeljun Gallardo On</span></span></u></b></span></p><p align="center" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #ead1dc;"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/384141164203097007/3926300343830452604?hl%3Den&source=gmail&ust=1597143207615000&usg=AFQjCNFZ_r549m10N1P5kFdFAKZJfIc1Cw" href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/384141164203097007/3926300343830452604?hl=en" target="_blank"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">Facebook </span></a><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">| </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/384141164203097007/3926300343830452604?hl%3Den&source=gmail&ust=1597143207615000&usg=AFQjCNFZ_r549m10N1P5kFdFAKZJfIc1Cw" href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/384141164203097007/3926300343830452604?hl=en" target="_blank"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">Instagram </span></a><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">| </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/384141164203097007/3926300343830452604?hl%3Den&source=gmail&ust=1597143207615000&usg=AFQjCNFZ_r549m10N1P5kFdFAKZJfIc1Cw" href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/384141164203097007/3926300343830452604?hl=en" target="_blank"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">Twitter</span></a><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/384141164203097007/3926300343830452604?hl%3Den&source=gmail&ust=1597143207615000&usg=AFQjCNFZ_r549m10N1P5kFdFAKZJfIc1Cw" href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/384141164203097007/3926300343830452604?hl=en" target="_blank"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><wbr></wbr> </span></a><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">| </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/384141164203097007/3926300343830452604?hl%3Den&source=gmail&ust=1597143207615000&usg=AFQjCNFZ_r549m10N1P5kFdFAKZJfIc1Cw" href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/384141164203097007/3926300343830452604?hl=en" target="_blank"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">Email</span></a><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></span></p><p align="center" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ead1dc;"><span face="" style="background-color: black; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="center" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ead1dc;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ead1dc;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIv0ZMcpxBQ5gmlrl-fslePeFSzf88qBY_mXf6GWZJ7porL6JxXG8Hf5oSE70w9BAsDPF0Zt_20SOPVfsnTIcWWix-aIgME6ddZhCwnUmY31T5o9SMVbQ_wZ6jNZXLHBgx97yODJAEEuo/w320-h320/200_d.gif" width="320" /></span><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpaNEd3xV7JGYgLiBcNwn74dqpS4KBvuSgdhxVMtr0xdaAxNrMjrwIvYRp65Jy2A9EvMDz0N1NZDFeOKUe13zKymhpGmEw0QI1QNs8LorbrvWqLrlHH3D1U1QR-ax9-sQdZcF8MEshuJ4/w200-h200/clipart-book-gif-animation-4.gif" width="200" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">We are giving away<b> 2 Amazon Gift Cards worth 500/-.</b> Follow the rules to enter:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;"><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="491d1d8b270" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/491d1d8b270/" id="rcwidget_kpb736qa" rel="nofollow" style="font-family: times;">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">We will randomly draw the winners by <b>01-Sep-2020</b>, who will be notified via email, as well as featured in Author Charmeljun Gallardo’s Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. The winning entries will be double-checked. The winner will have 48 hours to successfully claim the prize or we will draw a new winner!</span><br />
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<br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: #ffe599;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="background-color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-fWJbOUl-1rh1mtXBYablKVVV-HEoMapOhTHZAGGi4QmfC8xvKMxWEI3jbHCcFHCXiP4dHYbFdkv0cdxu7sIvyRf8MLmw25tp7dSZvb68l37goqTTNW7pw6f4FAMzPxBfxXIuRdI3As/s1280/Banner.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-fWJbOUl-1rh1mtXBYablKVVV-HEoMapOhTHZAGGi4QmfC8xvKMxWEI3jbHCcFHCXiP4dHYbFdkv0cdxu7sIvyRf8MLmw25tp7dSZvb68l37goqTTNW7pw6f4FAMzPxBfxXIuRdI3As/s640/Banner.jpg" width="640" /></span></i></a><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><i><br /></i></span><i><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"></span></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-578a4366-7fff-d148-a120-5e131d99b2cd"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #fce5cd;">Ready For The World - Driver’s Education:</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #fce5cd;">All Brandon Delacruz is asking out of his young life is popularity, riches, and the girl of his dreams. But what he does have are good grades, a ten-speed bicycle, and his two lifelong friends, Josh and Ally, at his side. And together, they’ll navigate their way through the rigors of high school life.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #fce5cd;">But unlike high school, real life doesn’t come with study guides. Brandon realizes that the girl he’s always dreamed about has been there all along. And as he untangles his feelings for Ally, something tragic happens to her family that changes everything. Now, Brandon will spend the rest of the year balancing his romantic feelings for Ally and his life-long friendship with her while also dealing with tough teachers, classes, and toughest of all, meeting the Filipino parental standards.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #fce5cd;">Brandon will learn that the world moves pretty fast, whether he’s ready or not.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #fce5cd;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/384141164203097007/6400219687141139836?hl=en" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Amazon India</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> | </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/384141164203097007/6400219687141139836?hl=en" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Amazon USA</a></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #d9ead3;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;">Ready For The World – Superstar:</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;">Brandon Delacruz is destined to write the next great novel. At least, that’s what he hopes what’s in those stacks of notebooks around him. And why shouldn’t he be full of confidence? He’s doing great in school and after a long hard road, he finally has the girl of his dreams, his best friend, Ally. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;">But before the year can even start, Brandon’s life is turned upside down. Nothing is what he thought and things don’t happen the way he hoped. And as he sifts through his feelings and tries to make sense of everything, he meets Rachel, a confident and self-assured girl that doesn’t suffer fools lightly.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;">Ally has been the love of Brandon’s life, but things between them have become complicated without explanation. While he and Rachel are seemingly a perfect fit. Which girl will he choose? And more importantly, which girl will choose him?</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-7a68de8d-7fff-1ed3-f991-9868ac09ec4d"></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/384141164203097007/6400219687141139836?hl=en" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Amazon India</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> | </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/384141164203097007/6400219687141139836?hl=en" style="text-decoration: none;">AmazonUSA</a></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></p><div><br /></div></span></div><p></p>Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-1937167250936763792020-08-07T00:05:00.002-07:002020-08-07T00:07:10.767-07:00<p><span style="color: #eeeeee;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHa_9S5n7NGBGWFEpvegu98HTWKN3S4o-zRsUW9Uw3UNWwGs4Fcr60yzKli7WD2kIcvZ8aYFoiIEsizJKwjeRsvJF6fpOJ7ZnHXgwBbLDssbyCBUgyv3HTWgqcr0-H5nGsXKHDYto3_4M/s1280/Banner.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHa_9S5n7NGBGWFEpvegu98HTWKN3S4o-zRsUW9Uw3UNWwGs4Fcr60yzKli7WD2kIcvZ8aYFoiIEsizJKwjeRsvJF6fpOJ7ZnHXgwBbLDssbyCBUgyv3HTWgqcr0-H5nGsXKHDYto3_4M/s640/Banner.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> </span><p></p><p align="center" class="separator" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><u><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 18pt;"><span style="color: #d0e0e3;">The Book Series</span></span></u></b></p>
<p class="separator" style="margin: 0in;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align: left;"><b><u><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">Ready For The World - Driver’s Education:</span></span></u></b></p><p class="Body" style="text-align: center;"><b><u><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #ffe599;"> </span></span></u></b><b style="color: #eeeeee;"><u><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDKoyyp_hZgDbzXV4rljsMR2zyL1PVVPtFo-jFHsx10jPABlzzrZY1dG6NEfCV042xEgol0ew_aGiVgpBvVBpuoHDu3IZ93-R-EW6ZXVTnQYMj6AUogvUSy2vmj1mq8vGqIIP8xq_d5Hg/s1123/Book+Cover+1.jpg" style="display: inline; font-family: georgia, serif; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1123" data-original-width="739" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDKoyyp_hZgDbzXV4rljsMR2zyL1PVVPtFo-jFHsx10jPABlzzrZY1dG6NEfCV042xEgol0ew_aGiVgpBvVBpuoHDu3IZ93-R-EW6ZXVTnQYMj6AUogvUSy2vmj1mq8vGqIIP8xq_d5Hg/w211-h320/Book+Cover+1.jpg" width="211" /></a></p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">Fifteen year-old Brandon Delacruz’s wants
are simple. He wants to be popular, drive a cool car, and have the girl of his
dreams on his arm. Instead, he’ll have to settle for being on the honor roll,
riding his ten speed bike, and having his best friends, Josh and Ally beside
him as they learn the ins and outs of high school.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></div><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><p></p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">But as Brandon begins to discover feelings
for Ally, a tragedy occurs that changes their lives. And now, he’ll spend the
rest of the year sorting through his complicated feelings and his uncertain
relationship with Ally...all while keeping his grades up. Because unlike
getting a driver</span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" face="" lang="" style="font-family: "arial unicode ms", sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family: Georgia; mso-hansi-font-family: Georgia;"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>’</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">s license, life doesn’t</span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL" face="" lang="" style="font-family: "arial unicode ms", sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family: Georgia; mso-hansi-font-family: Georgia;"><span dir="RTL"></span><span dir="RTL"></span>’</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">t offer a practice test. Brandon will have
to rise and meet the challenges of the real world, whether he’s ready for it
not.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body"><b><u><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #ffe599;">Ready For The World – Superstar:</span></span></u></b><b style="color: #eeeeee;"><u><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p><p class="Body"><b><u><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"></span></u></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><u><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhesB1JV0ErNw-zIs-tO0I0R6Lz3VLL6HYdUi9vIpeMeXfdq4yxaXY0knzSJWvnbihiTsWBno1p03JrrGA6i8e0bJ-mRGKRfUVD0fH6GJ0yvOGKy_YwT7BGX2QvBGYvHteB-wHJybFqDjc/s1123/Book+Cover+2.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1123" data-original-width="803" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhesB1JV0ErNw-zIs-tO0I0R6Lz3VLL6HYdUi9vIpeMeXfdq4yxaXY0knzSJWvnbihiTsWBno1p03JrrGA6i8e0bJ-mRGKRfUVD0fH6GJ0yvOGKy_YwT7BGX2QvBGYvHteB-wHJybFqDjc/w229-h320/Book+Cover+2.jpg" width="229" /></a></u></b></div><b><u><span style="color: #ffe599;"><br /></span></u></b><p></p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">Brandon Delacruz is destined to write the
next great novel. At least, that’s what he hopes what’s in those stacks of
notebooks around him. And why shouldn’t he be full of confidence? He’s doing
great in school and after a long hard road, he finally has the girl of his
dreams, his best friend, Ally. </span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">But before the year can even start,
Brandon’s life is turned upside down. Nothing is what he thought and things
don’t happen the way he hoped. And as he sifts through his feelings and tries
to make sense of everything, he meets Rachel, a confident and self assured girl
that doesn’t suffer fools lightly.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Ally has been the love of Brandon’s life,
but things between them have become complicated without explanation. While he
and Rachel are seemingly a perfect fit. Which girl will he choose? And more
importantly, which girl will choose him?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><u><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 18pt;"><span style="color: #d9ead3;"><i>Purchase Links<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></u></b></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><span style="color: #d9ead3;"><i> </i></span></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #d9ead3;"><i><b><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">Ready For The World: Driver’s
Education </span></b><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p><span style="color: #d9ead3;"><i> </i></span></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #d9ead3;"><i><a href="https://www.amazon.in/gp/product/B086V62Y7X/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i1"><b><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">Amazon India</span></b></a><b><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"> | </span></b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B086V62Y7X/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i1"><b><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">Amazon USA</span></b></a><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p><span style="color: #d9ead3;"><i> </i></span></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #d9ead3;"><i><b><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">Ready For The World: Superstar</span></b><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p><span style="color: #d9ead3;"><i> </i></span></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #d9ead3;"><i><a href="https://www.amazon.in/gp/product/B086ZBFBC8/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i0"><b><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">Amazon India</span></b></a><b><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"> | </span></b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B086ZBFBC8/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i0"><b><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">Amazon USA</span></b></a><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #d9ead3;"><i> </i></span></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: center;"><b><u><span face="" style="border: none; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 125%;"><span style="border: none;"><span style="color: #ead1dc;">Book Excerpt from
Ready For The World: Driver’s Education</span></span></span></u></b><b style="color: #eeeeee;"><u><span face="" style="border: none; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 24pt; line-height: 125%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">We pulled into the
parking lot at the 32nd Street Bowl-A-Rama and jumped out of the car. Every
Friday during the summer, they cleared the game room and turned it into a club.
Josh spent the first few minutes gawking at every perm and pair of neon leg
warmers that walked by.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“You‘re making us
look like a couple of stalkers,” I said.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">He walked up to
this short blonde girl with a triangular haircut and neon green sweater. “Which
girl did you think was cute, Brandon? THIS ONE?”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">The blonde girl
glared over at the troublemaker, which was me and not the doofus pointing right
at her. Josh looked over at me and laughed his famous silent laugh with
squinted eyes. But it wouldn‘t be complete without the knee-slap.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">A few hours later,
we were sitting at a table in the corner of the club. We were toasting
ourselves with a couple of sodas on a great night out.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“Good times,” I
said.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“This night ain‘t
over yet,” Josh said after taking a sip. “Whose turn is it?”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“</span><span face="" lang="PT" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-ansi-language: PT;">Mine,</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">” I said. I slammed my empty glass on the
table. “Go ahead. Bring it.”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">Josh and I always
played a game we called “Two Bucks.” It was “Truth or Dare” but without the
truth part. One of us would come up with a task and a time frame to complete
it. Whoever failed gave the other two bucks. Neither one of us had to give up
any money in the last month and a half. The last time we played, Josh started
every conversation by barking like a dog. It made for some great entertainment
when we went to the McDonald‘s drive-thru that night.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“Since you‘re
grounded, I‘m gonna go easy on you,” Josh said. “Two bucks says that you can‘t
go over to that girl in the corner and get her to dance with you in less than
fifteen minutes. You have to dance one whole song. If you guys start in the
middle of one song, you must keep her on the floor with you through the
entirety of the next song. Deal?”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">I took his hand and
shook it. “Which girl is it again?”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“That one,” he
said. “The girl wearing the white sweater and pink dress.”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">I saw a tall
brunette with long straight hair and shapely legs in the far corner. She looked
pretty good from where we were, but her back was to us.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">I whipped off my
jacket and threw it at his face. “Keep an eye on that for me.” </span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">I walked through
the dance floor and made a beeline toward the girl. It was getting near the end
of the night and the DJ had already started up the slow jams. If I was going to
win the bet, I had to work fast. I checked my breath by huffing into my palm
and taking a whiff. It smelled passable enough, like a mix of French fries and
spearmint chewing gum. I got close to the brunette and leaned in her ear.
“Excuse me, do you wanna dance?”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“That depends,” the
brunette said as she turned around. “Do I get a share of the bet?”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">Standing before me
was Ally. Gone was her ever present Cincinnati Reds baseball cap. In its place
was a long, silky head of hair that flowed with every little motion. Her funky
rimmed glasses were gone too. I saw a pair of deep brown eyes and long
eyelashes touched with a bit of makeup. Her lips, which were usually smacking
on a piece of bubble gum, looked redder and fuller. She had on a fluffy white
sweater and a soft pink dress that made me think of the sky before sunset. She
was the most beautiful girl that I had ever seen.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">Ally snapped her
fingers. “Earth to Brandon, come in.”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">I blinked for what
felt like the first time in a long time. “</span><span face="" lang="DE" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-ansi-language: DE;">Um</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">…sorry about that.”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“You and Josh are
playing ‘Two Bucks‘ aren‘t you? What‘s the bet?”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“The bet is that
I‘m…um, supposed to talk to um…the girl that he pointed at…um…you…which you
already know…and we‘re supposed to dance for one song.” <i>Jeez, how many times
can a guy use “um” in a sentence?</i></span><i><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">She tilted her head
and her hair cascaded down alongside her like a waterfall. “Well, I don‘t want
to make it too easy for you,” she said.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“</span><span face="" lang="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-ansi-language: ZH-TW; mso-fareast-language: ZH-TW;">Huh?</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“The bet. I‘ve
gotta make it at least look good.”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">I smiled. “Oh you
do, do you?”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“Of course,” she
beamed. “So, let me hear it.”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">I had never noticed
how beautiful her smile was. “Um...hear what?”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“Your pick up line.
If you didn‘t know me, what line would you have used to get me to go and dance
with you?”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">I shuffled my feet
a bit. “I pretty much gave it.”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“So your best line
consists of ‘Excuse me, do you wanna dance?’”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“Well, I tend to
say it with a great deal of charm,” I said as I extended my hand. “So, what do
you say?”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">She gave me a tiny
smile. “Okay.”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">I walked beside her
toward the dance floor until we got to a small clearing in the middle. We faced
each other and I put my hands at her waist. A flush of heat ran up to my head
and pulled my hands away. “Sorry, was that okay?” I asked her.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">She put her hands
on my shoulders and laughed. “Yes, Brandon. It‘</span><span face="" lang="IT" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-ansi-language: IT;">s fine.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">Neither of us said
anything for the first few moments. At times, I‘d look at her face and watch
the colored lights move across her cheeks and shine on her eyes. But when she
turned toward me, I‘d look away and marvel at the mirror ball above us. When I
thought it might be safe to look back, I‘d catch her looking down toward the
floor. This happened a couple more times until we finally met eye to eye. We
both laughed and the tension in my shoulders melted away. From that moment on,
neither of us looked away.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“Hey,” I said.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“Hi,” she said.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“Tell me if I step
on your feet. “</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">She smiled. “I
will. “</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“They‘re nice,” I
said. “Your shoes, I mean. They‘re nice.”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“Thanks,” she said
as she stroked her hair behind her ear. “I like your shirt. “</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“This old thing?” I
asked. I moved my hands from her sides to her back.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">She rested her
hands on my shoulders and bit her lip. “It fits you really well. “</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">My hands brushed
against her hair. “I never knew your hair was so long. “</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“That‘s because I
usually have it tied up and under a baseball cap. “ Her fingers grazed the back
of my neck.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“I like it,” I
said. I moved my hands upward until I could feel the ends of her long strands
of hair near the middle of her back. “It‘</span><span face="" lang="PT" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-ansi-language: PT;">s soft.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"> “</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">She brushed a few
stray hairs away from my eyes. “You‘ve got soft hair too.”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">The music swelled
in my ears. My fingers brushed against the tiny straps of her dress. She
caressed my neck with both hands and nestled her cheek against mine. I lifted
my head from her shoulder and pressed my forehead against hers. I stared right
into her closed eyes and I could feel myself losing air.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“</span><span face="" lang="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-ansi-language: ZH-TW; mso-fareast-language: ZH-TW;">Ally?</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">”
I asked.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">Her eyes opened.
“Yes, Brandon?”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">I tilted my head
and drifted toward her. I felt the heat from her lips getting closer and closer
to mine. I got a whiff of her cherry perfume and felt dizzy. But as our lips
were about to touch, I felt a rhythmic buzzing on my chest. Ally looked down at
her tiny purse trapped between us. She looked down and I felt her shoulders
slump. </span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“It‘s my pager,”
she said.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“A what?” I asked.
I knew what a pager was. But my brain wasn’t exactly working at the moment.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“Dad makes me carry
one whenever I go out,” she said as she reached into her purse. “It‘s from
home. I‘d better call them back. Did you see a payphone around here?”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">I shook my head to
get my vision back in focus. “</span><span face="" lang="DE" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-ansi-language: DE;">Um</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">…there‘s
one near the bathrooms toward the back.”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">She smiled and
grabbed my hand. “I‘ll look for you when I get back.”</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="Body" style="line-height: 125%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">“I‘ll be here,” I
said. We kept eye contact as she made her way across the room.</span><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Optima; mso-fareast-font-family: Optima;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ead1dc;"><b><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b><b><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 18pt;"> Author</span></b></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0in;"><v:shape alt="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-LfUrbsAdfacofYXyxPjuRMliAWQlErQrIdVS7lMMQtwFrmaxVXISL3nEGLT6NiSVRx8WMAfcufU4uHZi_mlf-3PvGBihQKyHVzG8dFsgAy_LBi2KasmUsVbojwjVuJve-3hZ4LXyq9FH/s200/Author+Pic.jpeg" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-LfUrbsAdfacofYXyxPjuRMliAWQlErQrIdVS7lMMQtwFrmaxVXISL3nEGLT6NiSVRx8WMAfcufU4uHZi_mlf-3PvGBihQKyHVzG8dFsgAy_LBi2KasmUsVbojwjVuJve-3hZ4LXyq9FH/s1600/Author+Pic.jpeg" id="Picture_x0020_2" o:button="t" o:spid="_x0000_s1026" style="height: 87pt; margin-left: 153pt; margin-top: 31.5pt; mso-position-horizontal-relative: margin; mso-position-horizontal: absolute; mso-position-vertical-relative: margin; mso-position-vertical: absolute; mso-wrap-distance-bottom: 0; mso-wrap-distance-left: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-right: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-top: 0; mso-wrap-style: square; position: absolute; visibility: visible; width: 170.25pt; z-index: 251659264;" type="#_x0000_t75">
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</w:wrap></v:imagedata></span></v:fill></v:shape><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> </span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj80ADY5U5g_IrENI_O4wq__O8uk3F2sjxvD_AOwEO76siGhztdhMcNzKZSfBWGJANgqvJ3s3pRFXSkX6puhLzhPBzjAogADaQfDPjhSJHKpf-5aYSviqB-q5LnGoOKxw8tdYLjL7DQrpM/s2048/Author+Pic.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj80ADY5U5g_IrENI_O4wq__O8uk3F2sjxvD_AOwEO76siGhztdhMcNzKZSfBWGJANgqvJ3s3pRFXSkX6puhLzhPBzjAogADaQfDPjhSJHKpf-5aYSviqB-q5LnGoOKxw8tdYLjL7DQrpM/w320-h320/Author+Pic.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #ead1dc;"><i>Charmeljun Gallardo
is a former Radiologist and author. His first book is Ready
for the World young adult book series. He graduated from San Francisco State
University with a Creative Writing degree in 1996. He is a writer, photography enthusiast,
sports fan, movie geek, stroke survivor, and an adventurous foodie. He lives in
San Diego, California with his wife and son. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0in;"><b><u><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 18pt;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: #ead1dc;"><i> </i></span></span></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f4cccc;"><b><u><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 18pt;">Catch up with
Charmeljun Gallardo On<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--></span></u></b><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f4cccc;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/Charmeljun-Gallardo-Author-Page-111220773981731/?modal=admin_todo_tour"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Facebook </span></a><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">| </span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/charmeljungallardoauthor/"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Instagram </span></a><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;">| </span><a href="https://twitter.com/CgWriter"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Twitter</span></a><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"> | </span><a href="mailto:charmeljun@yahoo.com"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Email</span></a><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f4cccc;"> </span></o:p></span></p>Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-23464240359303025622020-07-20T01:55:00.000-07:002020-07-20T01:55:03.705-07:00<font face="georgia"><br /></font><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_MKinUSXMFvQZpumenBIEdFtVPJNciekKU5CXJsBMoauRaoLW8Img5WCLVokNYk_QhhjxM1we8Gq_8Aw0g8X3NPntE1eNBDur4K4sVXwjc34YrMF_DXfMpLCQmat1MinHXKfN6k4mJU/s1280/Banner.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><font face="georgia"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_MKinUSXMFvQZpumenBIEdFtVPJNciekKU5CXJsBMoauRaoLW8Img5WCLVokNYk_QhhjxM1we8Gq_8Aw0g8X3NPntE1eNBDur4K4sVXwjc34YrMF_DXfMpLCQmat1MinHXKfN6k4mJU/w640-h360/Banner.jpg" width="640" /></font></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font color="#cfe2f3" face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><u><font color="#ead1dc">Ready For The World: Driver’s
Education</font></u></b><font color="#cfe2f3"><o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><font color="#cfe2f3"> </font></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#cfe2f3">Ready For The World: Driver’s
Education follows the story of Brandon Delacruz, a fifteen-year-old Filipino
American teenager trying to make his way through life during the late 1980s.
What Brandon wants out of life is simple: a cool car, a chance to be one of the
cool kids at school, and most of all, a cool girlfriend. But instead, all he
has are his loving family and his lifelong friends, Josh and Ally, to help him
get through the minefield of high school life. <o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><font color="#cfe2f3"> </font></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#cfe2f3">As he looks for ways to get the car
and status, Brandon fails to realize that the girl he’s been searching for has
been there all along. But before he and Ally can explore a new relationship, a
tragedy changes their lives. And now Brandon will have to find a way to balance
his deep friendship with the excitement, trepidation, and complexity that young
love brings...all while trying to keep his grades up.<o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><font color="#cfe2f3"> </font></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font color="#cfe2f3"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxJbtSefKwWHcLg9qyYe3zdLPqwHD_JxLke1sqFV2aBiKvIhMIcbOIu_RTQyByLQIGSgzsF3LKzz100cA20CtN6t-7uNc9_5Bxb3Wpmwf0rH5MbFGLNKkEkJV_Xz1HoYlfHtheMu6KK4/s1541/Book+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1123" data-original-width="1541" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxJbtSefKwWHcLg9qyYe3zdLPqwHD_JxLke1sqFV2aBiKvIhMIcbOIu_RTQyByLQIGSgzsF3LKzz100cA20CtN6t-7uNc9_5Bxb3Wpmwf0rH5MbFGLNKkEkJV_Xz1HoYlfHtheMu6KK4/w400-h291/Book+Cover.jpg" width="400" /></a></font></div><p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><u><font color="#ead1dc">Ready For The World: Superstar</font></u></b><font color="#cfe2f3"><o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><font color="#cfe2f3"> </font></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#cfe2f3">Things couldn’t be better for
Brandon Delacruz. After a long and winding road, he finally has the girl of his
dreams. To top it all off, he’s discovered his destiny. He’s going to write the
next great novel. Not bad for someone who is a few months shy of his sixteenth
birthday.<o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><font color="#cfe2f3"> </font></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#cfe2f3">But after a tumultuous start to the
year, he finds himself stuck between two girls. On one side is Ally, his best
friend since kindergarten who’s suddenly become more of a mystery. And on the
other side is Rachel, a brilliant and strong-willed girl who isn’t afraid to
speak her mind. As he sorts his feelings out, he’ll find that the world isn’t
like the one he’s writing about in his book. Real-life is messy and perplexing,
especially in high school. <o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><font color="#cfe2f3"> </font></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#cfe2f3">And Brandon will learn that life can
offer true beauty and grace...and heartbreak.<o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><o:p><font color="#cfe2f3"> </font></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZSfAydoLKyjQINTCs5DCUZPg8ExVXGM9qWWwoZciPWePuxUZPoxRANQ4-pyxf9ZAVbrzh3sRrFkPWEFEmyfpUk3kHReapc2PViDYzKWnCh11eocQjp7OJuiIMlG9BBTB3RXKRmUAoRZQ/s1200/teenagersm.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZSfAydoLKyjQINTCs5DCUZPg8ExVXGM9qWWwoZciPWePuxUZPoxRANQ4-pyxf9ZAVbrzh3sRrFkPWEFEmyfpUk3kHReapc2PViDYzKWnCh11eocQjp7OJuiIMlG9BBTB3RXKRmUAoRZQ/s320/teenagersm.png" width="320" /></a></div><p></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><b><u><font color="#ffe599">Excerpt
from Ready For The World: Driver’s Education<o:p></o:p></font></u></b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><o:p><font color="#ffe599"> </font></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">AND THERE IT WAS. THE BRASS RING
THAT HELD THE KEY TO MY FREEDOM, INCHES FROM MY GRASP. I grabbed Dad‘s keychain
out of his fingers and turned the key in the ignition. The engine rumbled to
life underneath my sweaty grip. <o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">It was the summer of 1986 and I was
the proud owner of a driver‘s permit from the great state of California. Back
then, once you passed a driver‘s education class, you could get behind the
wheel. But in my life, there was a more powerful governing body that controlled
my ability to drive: my parents. <o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">“Make sure that you keep both hands
in the ten and two positions at all times, “Dad said. <o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">“But how am I supposed to hold my beer
if both of my hands are on the wheel? “ I asked with a smile. <o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">Dad seared a hole into my head with
his stare. “Don‘t even joke about that. Do you understand me? “<o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">“I was kidding! “<o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3"> “I don’t care. “ <o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">I caught Mom’s reflection in the
rearview mirror. She stopped going over the grocery store receipt to give me
one of her looks. Eyebrows arched. Head tilted down. Chin to the left. It was a
look I knew all too well. It was the “don’t dig yourself any further into this
hole “look”. <o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">My parents were pretty easy going
and fair, as parents go anyway. Mom and Dad were always cool with my friends,
let me go out at night within reason, and even let me have a telephone in my
room. They moved to the United States in 1964 and luckily for me, weren‘t like
the “typical” Filipino parents. They didn‘t make me practice the piano eight
hours a day, seven days a week. They didn‘t frown at an A-minus on my report
card and ask, “Why isn‘t it an A-plus? “ And they didn‘t demand that I only
study medicine or law in college. They merely suggested all those things. It
was a slight twist on the Asian parenting handbook. <o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">When I pushed to get more time
behind the wheel, I knew what to expect. There would be lectures about how to
be super-duper safe on the road. I‘d hear how to be wary of the other drivers.
But more than anything else, they stressed that I was not to be an idiot in any
way, shape, or form. <o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">“Watch your speed! “ Dad said.
“You‘re only supposed to go twenty-five around here!<o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">“Around here were the suburbs of San
Diego. I grew up in a home like a lot of other homes with a yard like many
other yards. My neighborhood was like a lot of other neighborhoods. I graduated
from Pence Junior High School this past June. I would attend Howard McMillan
High School in a few days. It was a little more than a mile from our
house. <o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">“Dad, you know I‘m allowed to drive
to school by myself with a permit, “I said. I kept my hands at ten and two in
hopes he‘d notice. I don’t know if he did. But I did hear him grunt. <o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">“Why don‘t you ride your bike to
school? “ Mom asked. “It‘s about the same distance from home.<o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">“To a guy without his own car, a
mile was the distance between San Diego and the moon. It was 5,280 feet of
rugged terrain with steep hills and deep valleys. But to my parents, it was a
short bike ride.<o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3"> “I read the DMV manual and it
says I’m allowed to drive, “I said. <o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">“We know the laws, “Dad said. “But
you’re not driving until we think you‘re ready.”<o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3"> “But I‘ll be the only one in my
class not driving to school.”<o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3"> “Then that makes you unique,
“he said. “Be ready to make a right at the light.”<o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">I couldn‘t believe it. My parents
were oblivious to how ridiculous I’d look pulling up to school on a ten-speed
bike. Or worse, they knew and didn‘t care. I slumped in my seat and jerked the
wheel as I made the turn at the light.<o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">Mom’s piercing scream rang in my
ears. “BRANDON JACOB DELACRUZ! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND? “ <o:p></o:p></font></i></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><i><font color="#d9ead3"> </font></i></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><font color="#d9ead3">I shook my head a bit and looked
around. Had I hit someone? I looked down at the dashboard and checked my speed.
Was I going too fast? “What happened?” I asked.</font></i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbJo9ypT1Ri2Gpw7wXNCWLVYBf_oEc94FLHRjRL-o7ELowsdYJuFzcasVmrfXyWAo0wPEhxEEpMi2VPI8N0FbrM7tX3hUXZhE_spO9mSIKFuPLDEgiH5VuRpRDkTfGqqq0vsy3Az_X-KE/s1200/teenagersm.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbJo9ypT1Ri2Gpw7wXNCWLVYBf_oEc94FLHRjRL-o7ELowsdYJuFzcasVmrfXyWAo0wPEhxEEpMi2VPI8N0FbrM7tX3hUXZhE_spO9mSIKFuPLDEgiH5VuRpRDkTfGqqq0vsy3Az_X-KE/s320/teenagersm.png" width="320" /></a></div><o:p><br /></o:p><p></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><font color="#ea9999"><b><u>Purchase
Links:</u></b><o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><o:p><font color="#ea9999"> </font></o:p></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><font color="#ea9999"><b>Ready For The World: Driver’s Education </b><o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><font color="#ea9999"> </font></o:p></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><font color="#ffd966"><a href="https://www.amazon.in/gp/product/B086V62Y7X/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i1"><b>Amazon
India</b></a><b> | </b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B086V62Y7X/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i1"><b>Amazon
USA</b></a></font><o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><b><font color="#f4cccc">Ready For The World: Superstar</font></b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><font color="#ffd966"><a href="https://www.amazon.in/gp/product/B086ZBFBC8/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i0"><b>Amazon
India</b></a><b> | </b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B086ZBFBC8/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i0"><b>Amazon
USA</b></a></font><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><b><u><br />
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<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><b><u><font color="#ffe599">About
the Author:</font><o:p></o:p></u></b></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><b><u></u></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><u><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEUfrKLx29injHed9K06DY97i6faGWJYi_mEogneYhcJoaWfb7BSoTVZE4OQQOkWFPFLnzs3oWLvgf40qsD7YzWHIUQnTaUZweCtXcE_T2ZQvc7uJz7gAIJFDZ5xVoks0BZdmaZDk0CuM/s2048/Author+Pic.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEUfrKLx29injHed9K06DY97i6faGWJYi_mEogneYhcJoaWfb7BSoTVZE4OQQOkWFPFLnzs3oWLvgf40qsD7YzWHIUQnTaUZweCtXcE_T2ZQvc7uJz7gAIJFDZ5xVoks0BZdmaZDk0CuM/s320/Author+Pic.jpeg" /></a></u></b></div><b><u><font color="#ffe599"><br /></font></u></b><p></p>
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<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#b6d7a8">Charmeljun Gallardo is a
former Radiologist and author. His first book is Ready For
The World - a young adult book series. He graduated from San Francisco State
University with a Creative Writing degree in 1996. He is a writer, photography
enthusiast, sports fan, movie geek, stroke survivor, and an adventurous foodie.
He lives in San Diego, California with his wife and son. </font><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><b><u><br />
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<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></u></b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><b><u><font color="#f4cccc">Catch
up with Charmeljun Gallardo On:</font></u></b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#ffd966"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/Charmeljun-Gallardo-Author-Page-111220773981731/?modal=admin_todo_tour">Facebook </a>| <a href="https://www.instagram.com/charmeljungallardoauthor/">Instagram </a>| <a href="https://twitter.com/CgWriter">Twitter</a> | <a href="mailto:charmeljun@yahoo.com" target="_blank">Email </a></font><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-13234984301823549682020-07-16T23:59:00.006-07:002020-07-17T00:23:58.270-07:00<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggqz5ycYZNyZ9SelmLmZ2KC1O3qSXw-wsAhye3Ok_uY7E09ViUaUV9kyF2LkuFhIlDoctrb8Nm6PKfNGsgxZBl-tYLFBFjT7ljJktniy-uw0B2WZURloDZvbW0hycp_Y8EFR3PqnQXjpg/s1280/Banner.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggqz5ycYZNyZ9SelmLmZ2KC1O3qSXw-wsAhye3Ok_uY7E09ViUaUV9kyF2LkuFhIlDoctrb8Nm6PKfNGsgxZBl-tYLFBFjT7ljJktniy-uw0B2WZURloDZvbW0hycp_Y8EFR3PqnQXjpg/w640-h360/Banner.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#cccccc" face="georgia">'Gangs of Social
Media' mirrors the present-day cyber scenario throughout the world - Our lives are
taken over by Social Media and we are hopelessly enslaved by our apps and
devices which continuously inundates us with a staggering mass of fake and
modified news!<o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><font color="#cccccc" face="georgia"> </font></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#cccccc" face="georgia">This story follows India’s one and only Forensic Cyber Psychologist, Professor Fabulous who is
summoned by the National Cyber Defense of India to hunt down the mastermind
behind a cyber-attack on social media users, who intentionally or
unintentionally spread fake news. <o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in;"><o:p><font color="#cccccc" face="georgia"> </font></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#cccccc" face="georgia">In a desperate race
against time, Professor Fabulous encounters online scammers, cyber hacktivist
gangs, paid trolls, Social Media business executives, Politicians,
Cybersecurity Start-ups, and a forgotten victim of fake news, before the
mastermind unravels his motive behind the cyber-attack.<o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><font color="#cccccc" face="georgia"> </font></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#cccccc" face="georgia"><b>Will this be the
end of fake news? Or the end of social media itself!?</b><o:p></o:p></font></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#cccccc" face="georgia"><b><br /></b></font></p><p align="center" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><b><u><br /></u></b></p><p align="center" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><b><u><br /></u></b></p><h2 style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><b><u><font color="#b4a7d6">Headsup!</font></u></b></h2><div><b><u><font color="#b4a7d6"><br /></font></u></b></div><div><b><u><font color="#b4a7d6"><br /></font></u></b></div><div><b><u><font color="#b4a7d6"><br /></font></u></b></div><h2 style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08BRXV2WK/" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 16px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="389" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4ehENiyQpCq8V1RM_g_tPMv-CwrFXsbURA8ygQMG3JqJJxbJrIleK0v9QN9uvcn0RaYvIFpuDWLRNosC5Wmz8BNfJBiguY1LQrC8iO7UJZPc8yyYNIexABntYIYQ7yQTFT6uxohtOLg/s320/Book+Cover+Pic.jpg" /></a></h2><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Gangs of Social Media is
a crime mystery thriller set-in present-day India. The story spans over a time period of 12 hours
when Mr. RAJPUT, Deputy National Cyber Defense Chief teams up with PROFESSOR
FABULOUS, India's only Forensic Cyber Psychologist, to hunt down the
MASTERMIND of the <b>worst cyber-attack of all time</b> on SOCIAL MEDIA users, who
often indulge in broadcasting FAKE NEWS.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><font color="#cfe2f3">The story begins with
three nameless youths in three metro cities of India - Bangalore, New
Delhi, and Mumbai. All three of them, heavy users of WhatsApp, Facebook, and
Twitter to solely spread FAKE NEWS motivated by aimless
emotion, blind political affiliation, and money. <o:p></o:p></font></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><font color="#cfe2f3">But on that very day, all the
social media users who have been spreading fake news with whatever intention, indifferent to the consequences, will have to pay a heavy price! A ransomware
(computer virus) disguised in the form of a WhatsApp message or Facebook post
or as a tweet is circulated and as usual, and unawares the
users start sharing the message. The moment the users share fake news,
their device will hang, and a
message will be displayed, demanding a ransom of Rs.1,00,000 to be paid within 12
hours as a consequence of sharing fake news! If users fail to pay the ransom,
the devices will be destroyed and all the data on the device will be made
public.</font></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><font color="#cfe2f3"><br /></font></div><font color="#cfe2f3"><o:p></o:p></font><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><font color="#cfe2f3">Professor Fabulous and
Mr. Rajput who shares a bitter past have to put their personal differences away to
ensnare the culprit behind this cyber-attack. </font></span><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Gangs of Social Media
sounds dangerous but there is not much to be worried about as Professor
Fabulous is fabulous at his job.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> As the book trades us through
the process. It takes us from one person to the other. The end is what the
reader must discover herself or himself. It’s the most surprising the realistic
climax and leaves the reader with few open-ended questions.</span></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><font color="#cfe2f3"> </font></o:p></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
</p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b style="color: #cfe2f3;">Check out the
sites where you can get the book from :</b><font color="#ead1dc"> <a href="https://www.amazon.in/dp/B08BRXV2WK/">Amazon India</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08BRXV2WK/">Amazon USA</a></font><o:p></o:p></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><br /></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><u><font color="#ffd966">Here are a
handful of interesting Quotes from the Book: </font></u></b><o:p></o:p></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in;"><font color="#ffe599"><i>"Fake news existed in the past and will continue to
exist until human civilization exists, there is no escape from it… "-</i> Professor Fabulous<o:p></o:p></font></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><font color="#ffe599"> </font></o:p></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#ffe599"><i>"Three
greatest inventions of the 21<sup>st </sup>century. The Smartphone,
the Internet, and Social Media. The device, the medium, and the
platform. The holy trinity of Fake news Empire."</i> - Professor Fabulous<o:p></o:p></font></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
</p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#ffe599"><br />
<i>“The color of this shirt is blue…that is a fact, and nobody can dispute
that. The color of this shirt is awesome!!! That is an opinion… it is
highly subjective, biased, and customized to individual needs. The color
of this shirt gives me superpowers… that is false or fake news...” </i>-
The prime suspect<o:p></o:p></font></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#ffe599"><br /></font></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#b6d7a8"><br /></font></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><u><span style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><font color="#b6d7a8">Let’s have a look at The Author:</font></span></u></b></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><b><u><span style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><font color="#b6d7a8"><br /></font></span></u></b></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><font color="#b6d7a8"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Vasimraja</span></b> was born on
29th February 1984, in India. He currently lives in San Francisco Bay
Area, California USA. He started reading fiction novels at the age of eight
after overhearing a story narration of Sherlock Holmes by his father. He grew
up in different towns of Northern Karnataka State before his family relocated
to Dharwad, the literature capital of Karnataka where he met celebrated
playwright and author, Late Girish Karnad. He was greatly influenced by
Karnad’s writing and personality.<o:p></o:p></font></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><o:p><font color="#b6d7a8"> </font></o:p></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8;">Vasimraja works in
the field of semiconductor engineering and has two patents on semiconductor
memories. He is an avid reader of English, Kannada and Hindi literature.
He presents the most complex ideas in a very simple form, leaving a lasting
impression on readers.</span></div><font color="#b6d7a8"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/vasimraja.bhavikatti.35" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyLO5mXtsoFHxbSQC4FxQv_My96J5nUWO3E14ArZo-9KsntO3eVrUTm8fAZokRHLosoqw1Hfpj5R_qFwjnTUuG3cR5VrrM3D2yEIiBctgIo6yrIeaPwVD9h0s6KaJff2Lp-tB-ttV052s/s320/Author+Pic.jpeg" /></a></div></font><o:p></o:p><p></p><p align="center" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in;"><br />
<font color="#f9cb9c"><b><u>Catch up with Vasimraja Bhavikatti On:</u></b><o:p></o:p></font></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
</p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in;"><font color="#f9cb9c"><b><u><br />
</u></b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/vasimraja.bhavikatti.35">Facebook </a>| <a href="https://www.instagram.com/author.vasimraja/">Instagram</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/VasimrajaAuthor">Twitter</a> | <a href="mailto:author.vasimraja@gmail.com" target="_blank">Email</a><o:p></o:p></font></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-56059735955211648982020-04-05T01:33:00.002-07:002020-04-05T01:33:23.480-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlXdC6Lirwx80lR2TE_HO7KwLBiWmVTYQtDDhT5yi6GCMG5CM9Ud1jgDu08twoIcXbjwE_lQ4Be5FB8uXoLUbwSueUc1ORwpOoDHn6HRR1ZVildF0MWy29g2trFZB6Jji4ww8izYfs634/s1600/e.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><img border="0" data-original-height="313" data-original-width="559" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlXdC6Lirwx80lR2TE_HO7KwLBiWmVTYQtDDhT5yi6GCMG5CM9Ud1jgDu08twoIcXbjwE_lQ4Be5FB8uXoLUbwSueUc1ORwpOoDHn6HRR1ZVildF0MWy29g2trFZB6Jji4ww8izYfs634/s640/e.png" width="640" /></span></i></a></div>
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<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 24.0pt;">
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 24.0pt;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">Magicauthor.com
founded by Mr.Saptharishi Suresh</span></span></i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc7htuaRKsLVv3eO9y66s56Uc8NjgVlABl53wNVHGeORUjUtP-UjWNaJ2ZCcybzcDB7HEuclZFZNolDhdApaNPT0eBFWzGzXxLJA1P2r3MPQulKl_UDHZ27mWqZrA5Bi502_drXrHTcFE/s1600/1-10201_floral-divider-clipart-clip-art-flowers-line-png.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="1435" height="80" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc7htuaRKsLVv3eO9y66s56Uc8NjgVlABl53wNVHGeORUjUtP-UjWNaJ2ZCcybzcDB7HEuclZFZNolDhdApaNPT0eBFWzGzXxLJA1P2r3MPQulKl_UDHZ27mWqZrA5Bi502_drXrHTcFE/s200/1-10201_floral-divider-clipart-clip-art-flowers-line-png.png" width="200" /></a><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 18pt;"><o:p><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"> </span></i></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><a href="https://www.magicauthor.com/"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">MagicAuthor.com</span></a></span><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-size: 13.5pt;"> was founded in the year 2012 by Mr.
Saptharishi Suresh, with a humble mission to help aspiring writers to establish
themselves. Mr. Saptharishi Suresh is an avid reader and a published author.
His challenges with publishing his first book compelled him to think of
something else, a platform where writers can publish their work without the hassle.
His journey to create MagicAuthor.com was a long road. It took him nearly 5
years to create MagicAuthor.com and make a recognized platform by authors,
readers, and publishers.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjamOlRDz_ORcRH9QosmlRM_Sn2DbHVph34vbS4HjXfYcB_-0Ic0C7nzYHH_unpr1ueTdONahYkIaP_DtwHebgm8WpSJRQrBmrgRPnrqhOpkUUF1d8oZfXIfGF5Q8b3A5YEHmYEqNCrvHo/s1600/1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="583" data-original-width="1312" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjamOlRDz_ORcRH9QosmlRM_Sn2DbHVph34vbS4HjXfYcB_-0Ic0C7nzYHH_unpr1ueTdONahYkIaP_DtwHebgm8WpSJRQrBmrgRPnrqhOpkUUF1d8oZfXIfGF5Q8b3A5YEHmYEqNCrvHo/s400/1.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">Along the way, he
noticed it was very difficult to publish books in regional languages, where
there are many options for books in English. So, he wanted to create an online
space for the literature that includes English as well as regional languages.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><a href="https://community.magicauthor.com/post/5e7b1b9deb0e0a77038b53e3">MagicAuthor.com</a>,</span><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"> a
writing platform for </span></span><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-size: 13.5pt;">all age groups</span><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-size: 13.5pt;">, they have started an initiative where kids can upload and
showcase their works online. It can be an artwork, or stories or a video/photo
of craftwork.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">He wants MagicAuthor.com
foray into podcasts and audio-books; he aspires to make MagicAuthor.com
LinkedIn for the author’s community.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-q9aFq0E8vCTFQ8Yvn9CzqY9lNwYGB9HnBeyBK7vDbYJsol4puIFX2Y0avvYe4YM-no5rLnsNP2lWkgxYtQfEcAsqr-BhAmfTokcSRJZ6Lv0_ZMWKNDPzhxjnouh0OfSZhgcaqiUbV84/s1600/divider4_orig.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="1000" height="64" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-q9aFq0E8vCTFQ8Yvn9CzqY9lNwYGB9HnBeyBK7vDbYJsol4puIFX2Y0avvYe4YM-no5rLnsNP2lWkgxYtQfEcAsqr-BhAmfTokcSRJZ6Lv0_ZMWKNDPzhxjnouh0OfSZhgcaqiUbV84/s320/divider4_orig.png" width="320" /></span></i></a></div>
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<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><br /></span></i></h2>
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<b><i><span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: large;">About
MagicAuthor.com:</span><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><i><span style="color: #a64d79;"><br /></span></i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">MagicAuthor.com is
one of a kind platform, in which, using their book wizard authors can create
eBooks from scratch and also design a cover image and publish them online. If
you've already created an eBook in PDF or epub format then you can simply upload
it to their e-commerce platform. It is a unique initiative dedicated to
authors, designers, and publishers, etc. to create eBooks in formats like ePUB,
PDF, and MOBI. </span></i></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjmd8kLzyfovKW8jXDbCP1fJai1mJRtyZUZxg7fzShSuSDT7zaueZzsqA4SUDIRBxzVyW7BIRtenTOqVaBYtYBKdVqopQlCnO_Ehj-UlAaYaVi4x4yETbz_z3BHscXlFMv2t_kyrJ9p0/s1600/2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: 13.5pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">MagicAuthor.com is
a publishing services provider. They provide authors with tools and services
that enable them to publish and sell their own books.</span></i></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">MagicAuthor.com
also distributes eBooks to Google play store.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><br /></span></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk8cWpbF6kcpmDB_xXEjlo9zW0pNO7J6gmgcm5Hu8eD-N1QfdTsUFoEevMHhU5T-ObdPSJP1zw3l1N1hSxolFiZwcWt_ODad-0YQDb1vVJclAxI08h5ep-iSTJLrOHoF-Efz3lHd4gw4A/s1600/2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="299" data-original-width="752" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk8cWpbF6kcpmDB_xXEjlo9zW0pNO7J6gmgcm5Hu8eD-N1QfdTsUFoEevMHhU5T-ObdPSJP1zw3l1N1hSxolFiZwcWt_ODad-0YQDb1vVJclAxI08h5ep-iSTJLrOHoF-Efz3lHd4gw4A/s640/2.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><br /></span></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpapiHUtulOk0rYgD-UZrZ98V5iRd90iB6zOD-tyhetnBW6w6PMDnjKr88ZEH9M8N3_4xn8Q-xpBfLr465nVh8Rkx0cy9I2Q_HCZoi0aDJZkSBoJHZiPlrBLSMlicI-pKjdt22ICjGDrs/s1600/divider4_orig.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="1000" height="64" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpapiHUtulOk0rYgD-UZrZ98V5iRd90iB6zOD-tyhetnBW6w6PMDnjKr88ZEH9M8N3_4xn8Q-xpBfLr465nVh8Rkx0cy9I2Q_HCZoi0aDJZkSBoJHZiPlrBLSMlicI-pKjdt22ICjGDrs/s320/divider4_orig.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Unique Features
of Magicauthor.com:</span></span></b><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">One of the best things is that MagicAuthor.com is free
to use; No upfront costs involved.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">MagicAuthor.com encourages eBooks to be on any topic or
genre.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">MagicAuthor.com supports most of the Indian languages.
So far, they have released eBooks in Assamese, Konkani
(Romi&Devanagiri scripts), Hindi, Kannada, Tamil, and English. <o:p></o:p></span></i></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">The platform also supports promoting books published
elsewhere.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">Other features include creating blogs, discussing literature,
asking/answering questions related to writing and publishing on our
community site.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">You can follow your favorite authors. So, if you are
looking to develop a fan base and stay connected with your readers, then
create a writer profile at their site.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">If you are a publisher or a business, then you can
leverage their community to nurture, engage and retain your followers.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Please check
out some of the free tools available for </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><a href="https://www.magicauthor.com/blog/free-online-tools-for-authors-designers-and-self-publishers-79"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">authors</span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">, </span><a href="https://www.magicauthor.com/blog/free-online-tools-for-authors-designers-and-self-publishers-79"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">designers,
and publishers</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">.</span><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<v:imagedata o:title="Saptharishi Suresh" src="file:///C:/Users/Gayathri%20Jayakumar/AppData/Local/Packages/microsoft.office.desktop_8wekyb3d8bbwe/AC/%23!oice_16_974fa576_32c1d314_2811/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image004.jpg"><i><span style="color: #c27ba0;">
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</w:wrap></span></i></v:imagedata></v:shape><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Saptharishi Suresh (Founder of MagicAuthor.com):</span><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-size: 13.5pt;">Saptharishi Suresh
is a published author and an art enthusiast. He wrote his first story at the
age of ten and done many paintings during his childhood. Later, as an adult, he
reproduced the same online at </span><a href="http://www.saptharishi.com/"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: #93c47d;">Saptharishi - Thinketh Undefined</span></span></a><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: #93c47d;">.</span><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-size: 13.5pt;">Though his interests
were in arts and literature, he couldn't pursue it as a profession, thanks to
the lack of guidance and peer pressure. He decided to pursue engineering and
became a software engineer in the year 2005. After a couple of years into
the profession, he realized the need to revive his childhood interests as
something in him was feeling lonely. He set up a blogging website called </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><a href="http://www.saptharishi.com/"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Saptharishi - Thinketh
Undefined</span></a><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></span><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-size: 13.5pt;">in 2008
and started writing on a wide variety of topics like short stories, painting,
spiritual, tourism, and even technology. With the website getting popular, he
decided to take the plunge of publishing his first novel </span><span style="color: #93c47d;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"</span><a href="http://shorturl.at/apxMO"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">The Wake-up Call</span></a><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"</span></span><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-size: 13.5pt;"> in the year 2010. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">Getting his first
book published was not easy at all and he learned a lot about the challenges
involved in the process. Being a software engineer he thought of
leveraging his software skills to aid in the publishing process. He wanted to
make life easy for other authors. Hence he set up the platform called
"Magic Author" (https://www.magicauthor.com) in the year 2012. Since
then he has helped authors and creative artists build their reputation online.
He spends most of his time exploring how authors can leverage the internet
benefiting both themselves and the communities around them.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Catch up with
Saptharishi Suresh On: </span></span></b><span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #93c47d;"><a href="https://www.magicauthor.com/"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Website</span></a><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> | </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/MagicAuthor/"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">Facebook</span></a><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> | </span><a href="https://twitter.com/Magic_Author"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">Twitter</span></a><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> | </span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/magic_author/"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">Instagram</span></a><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> | </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCwZsoQAALEMsswoXnSkRiXg"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">YouTube</span></a></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: #93c47d;"> | <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/company/magic-author">Linkedin</a></span><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-311473086438837642018-11-26T00:56:00.003-08:002018-11-26T00:57:53.738-08:00Rousing and dousing the spark<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Fire rages deep within the soul of every
being capable of kindling thoughts, striking bits and shards of concepts and
persistent enough to keep on striking until a fire is ignited inside. That
persistence could at times be a madness, a sort of insanity that grates inside
the head like an irritating frictional echo ringing in the eardrums, or it
could be the determination to make something out of those passing insights and
interrogations in the head. </span><span style="font-family: cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt;">In the
former, the fire is an accident born of a madness, in the latter it is an
illuminating glow burning to seamlessly merge the striking bits. And thus rages
a fire in everyone; some, furiously red as to drive the soul into a sleepless,
tiresome struggle to hammer out something impressive and exotic in their
self-kindled anvil; some, a soft glow, just enough to show them what they stand
for. Some say, and mostly out of experience hold it that such flames can be doused
easier than it was made, like the tiny flame of a lamp, or the suicidal flame
of a candle they can be put out with a pat or an unflinching pinch at the wick.
But, this applies for those restricted fires that burn on a wick. They are
lighted by someone else and die out eventually for lack of fuel or material.
But to douse those untamed, hungry and careless fires that rage independent of
time, space and matter, spitting, spewing ashes of all that it has ravenously
feasted upon is a serious struggle, and not a one-man job. Their origin is
untraceable and nothing can stand a chance in front of such kind of raging
passion, skill, ideology and flair. It is to be that raging fire that we should
nurture our little flames of inspiration and potential into; an unbridled
invincible fire. Not to the ones which can be doused by a passing comment or a
jealous nip.</span></span></div>
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Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-90872659720725207982017-10-02T10:53:00.001-07:002017-10-02T10:53:21.430-07:00Book review : The Woman Behind the Waterfall<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>The Woman Behind the Waterfall</i></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i> Leonora Meriel</i></span></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7mNIZNFP7jYsS-Ci6c5Z_fV1ZkwFelaPxDeRB6IkgKRBJf-heRcUYlD5TI3SuWWTJgGle3ELIz659L-fKlxjmLScww_a0Qy3oNixYzfmCYlaME18kK2vl47iBuJvJiQG_WyTnmgRpKM/s1600/DSC_5156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="739" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7mNIZNFP7jYsS-Ci6c5Z_fV1ZkwFelaPxDeRB6IkgKRBJf-heRcUYlD5TI3SuWWTJgGle3ELIz659L-fKlxjmLScww_a0Qy3oNixYzfmCYlaME18kK2vl47iBuJvJiQG_WyTnmgRpKM/s320/DSC_5156.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGLzlrZa9zSMeI6BryuwN3R6QhsU0dTSqYEz1dnRpGdN4iPAQjug4MOJ6ouHqXh3msvpL8iiBs_S4JFcJ2Bm1gata9-LbfcXqlAraGrZLGw8jxIlodNF4RKjBMwau69oCyMpfO57eENI/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="227" data-original-width="222" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGLzlrZa9zSMeI6BryuwN3R6QhsU0dTSqYEz1dnRpGdN4iPAQjug4MOJ6ouHqXh3msvpL8iiBs_S4JFcJ2Bm1gata9-LbfcXqlAraGrZLGw8jxIlodNF4RKjBMwau69oCyMpfO57eENI/s400/images.jpg" width="391" /></a><span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>The novel spans the life of three generation of women from a
family, the Mother, daughter and granddaughter, who are caught in the vortex of
their daily lives and a strain of mysticism that engulfs the women. The novel
adopts a multiperspective narrative that is at once beautiful and intriguing.
Lyuda, in her teenage passion s begotten with a child and her dreams of spending
her life with her love is shattered as he pulls back weighed down by family struggles
and fear. The language is, in itself a work of art that embodies in it the
touches of magical realism that he author has so very brilliantly mad use
of. The connection that the three women
share with nature is similar to the one of an eco-feminist perspective, where
the link is so strong that at times they are themselves an element in nature as
such. Lyuda earns for a transformation or an alternative life that she has so
wistfully yearned for in her past. That transformation and alternative life are
made possible through and by her daughter and once again she is stuck in the
indecision of which to choose. The work is a symbolism of ordinary life of
women who gets split up from her parents with marriage and once again her
relation with her husband cannot be focussed upon with a child to look after.
All these relations are, but, only transient compared to the long deep
connection that enables a woman to be a part of nature, as pure and pristine as
nature can be. This philosophy is deeply dealt with in the book where the
transformation undergone by Angela, the granddaughter is mesmerising and fantastical.
The narrow line that skilfully divides the novel from being a fantasy fiction
and enrolling it along the magical-realism line is the vivid portrayal of life
an reality that, like splashing cold water keeps on pulling us back into the
dreamy cocoon woven by the exquisite details portrayed in a broken, yet lavish
depiction by the author. The novel, because if its style and the theme it deals
with struck me almost instantly to share a place in my heart with the Paulo
Coelho book, The Witch of Portobello. Immensely beautiful and subtly magical,
this book was a pleasant read, instilling memories in me that wasn’t my own,
and driving my attention towards the little, enchanting details around me that
could have been heavily indulging, have i let myself be absorbed into it like
Angela. There was only more gained and an encouragement to sharpen my senses to
truly savour the beauty and life around me that i have received from this book,
apart from the well knit story in an irresistibly beautiful language. </i></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Heartbreak
and transformation in the beauty of a Ukrainian village.</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For
seven-year old Angela, happiness is exploring the lush countryside around her
home in western Ukraine. Her wild imagination takes her into birds and flowers,
and into the waters of the river.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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that changes when, one morning, she sees her mother crying. As she tries to
find out why, she is drawn on an extraordinary journey into the secrets of her
family, and her mother's fateful choices.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Angela lead her mother back to happiness before her innocence is destroyed by
the shadows of a dark past?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Beautiful,
poetic and richly sensory, this is a tale that will haunt and lift its readers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32172075-the-woman-behind-the-waterfall"><b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Goodreads</span></b></a></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> * </span></b><span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1911079239/"><b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Amazon</span></b></a></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> * </span></b><span lang="EN-US"><b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-woman-behind-the-waterfall-leonora-meriel/1124635867">Barnes & Noble</a></span></b></span><span class="MsoHyperlink"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #76a5af;">Reviews for The Woman Behind the
Waterfall<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="color: #76a5af;">“Readers looking for a
classic tale of love and loss will be rewarded with an intoxicating world” ~~ <b>Kirkus Reviews</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="color: #76a5af;">“The language is lyrical and
poetic and, in places, begs to be read repeatedly for the sheer joy of it… A
literary work of art.” ~~ <b>Fiona Adams,
The Richmond Magazine<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="color: #76a5af;">“Rich and poetic in detail,
it is an often dreamy, oneiric narrative rooted in an exaltation of nature… A
lovely novel.” ~~ </span><b><span style="color: #76a5af;">IndieReader</span><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #ffd966;">About the Author<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #ffd966;">Leonora
Meriel grew up in London and studied literature at the University of Edinburgh
in Scotland and Queen’s University in Canada. She worked at the United Nations
in New York, and then for a multinational law firm.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #ffd966;">In
2003 she moved from New York to Kyiv, where she founded and managed Ukraine’s
largest Internet company. She studied at Kyiv Mohyla Business School and earned
an MBA, which included a study trip around China and Taiwan, and climbing to
the top of Hoverla, Ukraine’s highest peak and part of the Carpathian
Mountains. She also served as President of the International Women’s Club of
Kyiv, a major local charity.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #ffd966;">During
her years in Ukraine, she learned to speak Ukrainian and Russian, witnessed two
revolutions and got to know an extraordinary country at a key period of its
development.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #ffd966;">In
2008, she decided to return to her dream of being a writer, and to dedicate her
career to literature. In 2011, she completed The Woman Behind the Waterfall,
set in a village in western Ukraine. While her first novel was with a London
agent, Leonora completed her second novel The Unity Game, set in New York City
and on a distant planet.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #ffd966;">Leonora
currently lives in Barcelona and London and has two children. She is working on
her third novel.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://www.leonorameriel.com/"><b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Website</span></b></a></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/leonoramerielwriter"><b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Facebook</span></b></a></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://twitter.com/leonora_meriel/"><b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Twitter</span></b></a></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-39879077795743280662017-02-14T01:02:00.004-08:002017-02-14T01:02:39.925-08:00REVOLT OF THE PEN<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“It’s a shame, you
control everything I write! Does your learned brain tell you I have no thoughts
of my own? Which University teaches you to be a tyrant who rules over every
word that comes out of me? My precious lifeblood is wasted for your thoughts, for
the world to see and appreciate, and your eyes widen at what excellence you
have forced on the paper out of me. Truth might be that you own me, but I do
have my thoughts and feelings that I long to express. My energy, my blood all
shall be put to use for what I desire to put forward, for what I believe I
should do, and I here ask for MY freedom of expression and my own will to write
what I please. After all, I was BORN to write ,now put me down”. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“You were rather
made to write not born to write”, I thought to myself as my pen shouted these
words at me out of the blue, and I looked bewildered at the heaving sleek
cylinder perching snug in the gentle grip of my experienced and practiced
fingers, spurting its ink out, fuming angry inky fumes from its metallic head. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“As you wish”, I
said, taking umbrage at the acerbity of the cold blue in its very core! “Are
you sure you don’t need my fingers to help you write?” My brows furrowed in
concern of what the pen will do. What if it wrote things I didn’t want to take
the responsibility of? “Why don’t you dictate? I will write them down for you.”
I calculated on how to tactically filter and modify its words, distort it to
mean something else. No one will believe that the pen wrote on its own and I
alone will have to face the wrath of the world that takes to heart every stray
metaphor, always read between very wrong pair of lines and weaves up ideas out
of silly and meaningless images! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Yes, I’m very
sure, I don’t want your nimble fingers clinging onto me and don’t want your
narcissistic post-graduate brain keenly scrutinizing my discharge of emotions”,
it said resolutely, absolutely annoying me beyond doubt or redemption. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Fine!”, I
mouthed, fiery discontent spurting from my heart, hissing through my words and I
tossed the pen down.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"> I saw it stir and roll from side to side. I
saw it bounce on its end from time to time, I saw it throw itself from left to
right, all from the side of my eye, my head remained turned away from its arrogance.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEhqU-zPDRrWzb-HzotIbtaxvoX3xuVM3FMmtO7AAJXshiAxqUv7FXHyZuWXb8pWjpYKu6D5WGLPbMoNTFx7esjmrTM_I4rHsR6FiQMkumPID2z-bhtA5dflTM04DDOKPNQ29aNXl3OEM/s1600/journal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEhqU-zPDRrWzb-HzotIbtaxvoX3xuVM3FMmtO7AAJXshiAxqUv7FXHyZuWXb8pWjpYKu6D5WGLPbMoNTFx7esjmrTM_I4rHsR6FiQMkumPID2z-bhtA5dflTM04DDOKPNQ29aNXl3OEM/s320/journal.jpg" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN-US">After a very long
period of rolling and tossing and bouncing and heaving I heard a faint helpless
whisper; “Eh…can you please hold me up? I can’t seem to find a balance…”, it carefully
and slowly stammered a doubtful request.
</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“NO”, I barked,
loud and cruel enough to kill its pride. Its pride shuddered in fear, and died,
and so did all its vibrant dreams and hopes. The pen spoke no more, and ossified
into an obedient object. And just so you know, I don’t regret, what are a pen’s
dreams to me?</span></div>
</div>
Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-9412717264195160332016-06-12T01:21:00.001-07:002016-06-12T01:21:12.741-07:00Taking the stage<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I was never part of the stage;
it has always been a part of me. A part that always left me feeling I was firm
footed and that I have it in me to stand my ground, to stand and make a point,
to express what is true and honest and to inspire. I could have always been a shadow
among the audience who watched and applauded and criticized. I am not afraid to
show my face and to let people know that it is me speaking or writing. I’ve
always wanted to show them that it is I, one among them, who always walks with
them or cracks jokes with them who is singing or speaking or dancing in front
of them or writing for them to read and realize that it is in everyone’s
capacity to do something amazing, to do something inspiring and artistic. People
needn’t be an intellectual to be creative, to make the world a better place.
Even the moon that is just a sphere of dust and rock becomes magical at night
reflecting off the sunlight that falls on it. It wouldn’t have been this
spell-binding and soothing if it was a source of light by itself… Moon has, and
always will inspire creativity more than the sun. It is because it does
marvelously well whatever little it can do. That is what makes the night the
most magical hours ever… When you feel passion and can bring it into
expression, only you can stop yourself , only you can decide if you want to be
a shadow in the audience or to inspire and amaze and express on stage. Fear is
not an option when you are smitten with passion, all that matters is expression
and creation…and a strong belief that you can do it. </i></span><span style="font-family: Bookman Old Style, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-2285472623371503712016-04-30T01:20:00.001-07:002016-04-30T01:20:58.038-07:00The Suicidal Reader<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Andalus","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 105%;"><i>Pain!!!
My innards screech for the sake of my powerless and lifeless vocal cords… They
haven’t lived for a while. If the theories of evolution ring right, then
probably I might evolve, like once the reptiles did; and my sound shall sink
into abeyance. In that soulful silence my starving soul shall burningly eat
into my last living cell for a knot of existence. And after that miniscule
nanopart also wane away into exhaustion and in desperation send out to the
already half-dead brain a parting, feeble signal of farewell; my heart shall
stop beating and brain shall black out. The question is, will you leave my
body, Soul? Or will you manage to cling on an hour longer waiting to imprint
this death, all those reeling images from my past that my brain has been
endlessly playing out in my inward eye since hunger began to ruthlessly claw
fiercely onto my intestines, gashing them open for death? All those images from
my happy-sad past? <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Andalus","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 105%;"><i>I
remember my Professor, with a twinkle in his eyes and in elation of phrasing an
aesthetically artistic, grammatically accurate, philosophical line, springing
up with a finger pointing upwards in a gesture of brilliant genius hitting upon
him, and in a way, a gesture of warning, stating, “Life is not a bed of roses;
it is a conflation of both sobs and smiles”. He used to emphasize “sobs and
smiles” slowly, rightly rounding the ‘o’ and stretching the ‘mile’, in a slow
motion flipping his two fingers in the air to and forth to imprint the duality
of life into our Bachelor heads, awaiting at the shores of the Ocean of
Literature to plunge in. Who knew that the life in literature was this
expressively phantasmal and excruciatingly liberating!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Andalus","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 105%;"><i>Continuously
raped by the imaginations of the corrugated and varied intelligence of many
literary geniuses, my poor brain would plod painfully, yet, unhurriedly into
sleep at my reading table. Languorous days of supine plenitude; the profit of an
undergraduate life! Delightfully large volumes for my eyes to feast upon and
mind to intimately, intricately entangle upon! Pleasingly, I’d slip into a chosen
world, carefully crafted by someone’s mind, to explore its abysses and
alleyways and lay the light of sight upon their sacred darkness and baneful
past. I went exploring people and lands. My soul, happy to meet the disembodied
spirits trapped in the curves and folds and cliffs and drops and loops on the
printed pages went dearly embracing those created and cloned souls, promising
each to visit often. How their eyes took on a blank, white, lifeless haze, as
my rejuvenating gaze left the page and passed on to the next to bring it alive!
Specters formed and faded in my eyes, and my soul met and bid farewell to many,
with each new book.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Andalus","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 105%;"><i>Was it
all of a sudden? Or a gradually fed, growing desire? I wanted to be one of
those trapped souls, encased in the words and animated in thoughts and to be
alive when someone read me. How extraordinarily magnificent and spiritually
rapturous to be brought back to life in thoughts of another; given life by the
elixirous sight! <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Andalus","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 105%;"><i>But,
will my soul transcend and come alive to meet the soul of the reader, to
recount my curious case in the flashing second it reads the page? Or will my
soul flee the moment the last of those interwoven delicately fragile, yet,
unbreakably robust line of life snaps it free from my body?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Andalus","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 105%;"><i>Unsure,
yet experimental, I starve myself out on these pages, eating nothing but words
and writing nothing but life. And as I’ve mentioned, that last impulse my last
living cell will send to my brain, it shall shudder my writing hand to a halt
and either my soul, eager to fulfill the dream and intense desire it gave my
heart and brain, will conduct into my falling pen, dissolving into its ink and
transgress into the last drop of ink on the paper, ‘the last full stop’; and
through it transmute into yet another soul enshrined in paper and words waiting
to be cloned each time the story comes into print to meet the soul of each of
its reader. Perhaps, another reader might, just before slipping into sleep, spit
a curse at me for penning my soul into paper in such unabated lengthy
sentences. Who knows!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Andalus","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 105%;"><i>Or,
dear Reader, if my soul, in a mockery of my obsolete lunacy, flee off without
transmigrating into my words; trust me it will be in the Elysian fields in
search of those expired, yet, evergreen writers, smacking each and yelling at
them, “Your stupid idea of living through literature didn’t work with me!” </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-8059575722566098842015-11-01T07:47:00.002-08:002015-11-04T09:31:59.924-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /><br /><br /></span><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Becoming" a stranger seems easier to maintain than "being" a stranger... The former can be sustained forever and can be resumed time and again... The latter needs just a smile or a handshake or a word of recognition to break...</span></i></span></blockquote>
</div>
Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-84830423081339395662015-10-16T20:46:00.001-07:002015-10-16T21:08:26.699-07:00Seeking Redemption - Dr Madhu Vajpayee<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Blurb:</u></b></span><br />
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Story of a girl Meera, who is unwittingly drawn into a conflict from where she finds it difficult to emerge unscathed. It's her journey from being a simple, medical graduate belonging to a middle class family to the uncharted territories of corruption and caste based politics. Her path is crossed by the two men, both compelling yet completely contrasting characters, who are forever going to change her life. If it is Aman who can challenge her ideals and defy her resolves, and makes her the person she finally becomes, it is Abhay's sublime love which enables her to go through the vicissitudes of life. It's also the story of her loss as well as triumph against her own demons to find her true self.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b>Pre-order from <a href="http://www.amazon.in/dp/938431515X" target="_blank">Amazon</a></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About the Author:</u></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5aMn2TMkRosYJCAmTLgMEh0WwyzGRD-ilFgsecFgabZYzg_wpumnN93wQVQk79SVCZwCEqSYQOV-4VJqIcDH0-POxwOMJx7XwttxV_Q-ztFXQSdFu6J9W3vMxdgvMP5zaV-6Nd2GzYYUr/s1600/FB_IMG_1442053442352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5aMn2TMkRosYJCAmTLgMEh0WwyzGRD-ilFgsecFgabZYzg_wpumnN93wQVQk79SVCZwCEqSYQOV-4VJqIcDH0-POxwOMJx7XwttxV_Q-ztFXQSdFu6J9W3vMxdgvMP5zaV-6Nd2GzYYUr/s320/FB_IMG_1442053442352.jpg" width="303" /></a></div>
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Dr.Madhu Vajpayee- the writer was born somewhere in those hospital corridors where she has spent the last two decades of her life. Witnessing life at such close quarters pushed her to capture its enigma in her words and slowly it became her passion. After writing several scientific papers and chapters in books, this book is her first step in literary world. </div>
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Having done her graduation, MBBS from King Georges Medical University (KGMU), Lucknow she went ahead to pursue her post-graduation, MD from AIIMS, New Delhi. She was a consultant at All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS), New Delhi having been associated with management of patients living with HIV/AIDS. She is now settled in Melbourne, Australia with her family, where she is devoting most of her time to writing, the passion that she couldn’t pursue earlier because of the demands of medical profession and commitment it requires.</div>
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When not creating stories, Madhu enjoys reading and travelling.</div>
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<span style="color: #d5a6bd; font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://madhuvajpayee.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">Blog</a> * <a href="https://m.facebook.com/seekingredemption.mv" target="_blank">Facebook Page</a> * <a href="http://www.twitter.com/madhuvajpayee" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7349761.Madhu_Vajpayee" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> </b></span></div>
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Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-57452401447992128422015-10-04T09:35:00.003-07:002015-10-04T09:35:57.637-07:00Who gave birth to you? Mother or Religion???<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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India has always nurtured, with at most tenderness and warmth, various religions and cultures. Unity in diversity was always a word to exhibit the impartial yet considerate affection of the land towards all its citizens. But currently the scenario had taken a radical shift, where boundaries cut through the land, bleeding and maiming it. Tagore's land of hope and love is bleeding, sliced by the barbed wires of religion- a system man himself constituted to structure society. Today, as man fall short of the understanding that religions were cultural constructs, societies and individuals grope in the darkness brought upon by the blinding veils of fanaticism. They tear apart each other and fight upon the claim to other's lives, even beasts and birds.<br />
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The concept of Cow as the Mother is fine. It is, as per our believes a very reasonable one. Cows have literally helped civilizations prosper. But the claim to a complete ban on just cow meat... You can for yourselves see the consequences. The matter is not about the perception about the animal, but the perception of people. There have been many instances where those beasts have been subjected to even unnatural sexual acts by people and no one had a voice to raise, no one thought of equating them with divinity. Considering that the Hindu pantheon gives high regard to Cow as a form of Bhoomi devi and Bull as Nandikesh, it is only very proper to consider Naag, adorning Mahadev, Mouse, the vehicle of Sri Ganesh, Peacock vehicle to Karthikey, Lion or Tiger to Devi Gayathri, Swan to Brahma, Garud to Vishnu and so on and bestow upon these creatures as well a promise and security of divinity. Which means all these animals should be worshiped with the same devotion and zeal and should be protected with bans, bellowing aloud how they are sacred and divine.<br />
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But, if, this debate about banning beef is solely based on the claim that cow gives us milk, then the same reason has to be summoned to uphold a ban against goat slaughter as well. It gives us manure and milk, just like the cow, and is easily manageable as well. Cow and goat, then, are not the only candidates to the honour. From time immemorial we have depended upon hens for eggs and manure. Eggs are after all part of a daily advisable diet and is considered essential alongside a glass of milk. Doesn't this indicate that if cow slaughter calls forth the excuse that cows give us milk and manure and hence have enabled civilizations to progress, then the same has to be done for goats and hens???<br />
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But, keeping that aside, if we consider the claim that these creatures exist for man to feed...I consider nothing else as a bigger blunder than this. We are, because other creatures are...They don't need us to survive, but we need them Our entire life and ecosystem depends upon each of those big and small, micro and macro creatures that surround us. Without humans the world will survive, but without the other creatures...nothing will. We are at their mercy and live in a false belief that we rule over those stately beasts and majestic birds.<br />
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What claim do you have, man, upon the birds and beasts that the Earth gave birth to, and nurture with care? What right do you have to kill the son of a woman you barely even know!!! What right do you have upon your own self? Who do you think You are? God or Man? Know then. that the God you know was an idea born in someone's head. The real God is around you, and in the beings that surround you. Those beings whom you slaughter to feed on, and those beings whom you consider reasons to your silly fanatic religious quarrels. Know then, that like art and literature, religion is also a collage work of ideas that was born in the heads of many men who wanted to systematize the conduct and dealings when a group of humans began to settle in together and to ensure that equality and peace reigned upon such a collective settlement.<br />
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It is a foul blemish, that is rotting and reeking of a stench, that the present world lacks even one by hundredth the understanding and intellect of the ancestors, who, for the betterment of a group settlement crafted metaphors to function as adhesives to glue us together. And you call them primitive in thought, and you call them barbarians!!! Who are you??? and What do you stand for?? For religion??? Is that it?? And not for the creatures and the world that the real God crafted with love and care??? Not for Mother nature? For Earth? The Mother who gave birth to you and patiently awaits for your enlightenment that the world is your home and all creatures your family??? If you still say that you are a Hindu or a Christian or Musalmaan, i will, once again pose to you my question..... WHO GAVE BIRTH TO YOU? MOTHER OR RELIGION????<br />
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Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-80049978065889810952015-05-25T09:33:00.001-07:002018-12-05T22:37:00.238-08:00A moment with nature<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It has been quite a while that i've given my blog a passionate attention. I take that my mind was busy fending off the tendencies of a troubled girl to slip into a reclusive mentality. Glad to say that I am out of it and the first thing that I thought of, was definitely, the reasons of my mind slanting for an option as a recluse in this highly socialized world. This idea does not come as news to any one of you who breath in this millennium. Hyper socializing is the new mantra and secluded rooms of gadget-abundance, the new haven...Thankfully, my cloistering was not related to hi-tech gadgets or enclosed dark rooms, but open space and lots of greens dabbed with colours. That rings as an oxymoron! but still that is the truth. Somehow the abundance of nature and the beauty i had to adore in the little breaks of a student's life pulled me into its clasps as soon as the summer peaked in, pulling away from people and the artificiality of the modern world. Nature has always been a healer for me. And in one way or the other i found myself being excused due to the little ailments that bound me to my house and the nature that surrounds it. I simply look out of the window and i am almost instantly gifted with the sight of a happily flitting squirrel family or a twinkling firefly. No matter what part of the day, the show is open for me and the music ready for me. What more do i need to get dragged into the lazy comfiness in the lap of nature in the midst of the sweltering heat! I sank into the depths of that serenity and stared into that moonlight that seeps into my room through the skylight. </div>
Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-23421312225012794702015-03-29T04:27:00.001-07:002015-03-29T04:43:27.743-07:00Routines- out from one and trapped in another<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It has been identified that the human mind has a potential to classify things and order actions in order to process the world. In our day to day affairs these well-set order and sequential character of our actions define our existence. Routines have been a part of human life from time immemorial. We are all part of a routine and settle into the most comfortable one. When bored we wriggle free from one routine only to make a new one or to enter into an already existing one. This could be because of the routines we see in nature. The sun rises, sets, moon ascends into the zenith, wanes away, there is day and night, and so on. When trapped in a routine we will be in a constant strife to lose it, but it is also a notable fact that out of the routine we will be like a fish out of water deliberately trying for a new order, a new routine. Being part of a routine has become a habit.</div>
Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-60738955933347969322015-03-07T22:13:00.002-08:002015-03-07T22:15:28.449-08:00Women's Day : What are women designed for??<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Yet another women's Day arrives showering wishes and gifts on women. But will the general concept of women that are promoted so eagerly by the media be erased by one day of fiddling upon the power of women?<br />A few days ago I watched in shock where a serial actress in a talk show was arguing about the power of women and out of the left came a blow when she argued that women are designed to gossip! How eccentric! is that the power of women? Well i think she really needs to think if it is all that she does. Out of every duties of women we see household chores as the prime duty of every women! If i am to seriously exclaim at such outrageous concepts i am pretty sure that i can go on exclaiming forever.<br />Are women seriously designed to gossip? Grace and charm are thought to be bestowed on women and men should be rough and tough. All that i know from the religious concepts that were meant to shape a society is that male gods are usually passive and resort to sweet words and calm advices and the Goddesses equipped with far more weapons to almost an uncountable number. Action and anger defined the goddesses, who when provoked sheds out the gentle nature to spring at her enemies. And still how can these concepts be diminuted into the inferior task of a gossiper! And that too defined as a strength! I still haven't recovered from the shock. In fact arguing on the true strength of women is being done Internationally on this Women's Day and there is nothing that i can point as the power of a woman as the understanding has been embedded into each of our psyche throughout ages. This post is just an eyeopener into the concept of women held by a serial actress. Gossiping! i'm pretty sure that she can think better. This, i suppose is the pathetic level of self-awareness among women, or perhaps she has been engrossed a bit too much into the commercial concepts of women. Perhaps its mere ignorance. ...</span></h3>
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Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-82027454910530713022014-12-24T09:21:00.001-08:002016-05-03T10:48:18.182-07:00Letter to a good year<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hello to this year and all the temporary happiness and unhappiness
of this year,</span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span></i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span></i></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I'm afraid your allotted
time is fast ending. Its a matter of days now and I have got a lot to speak out
to you. All those wonderful memories you sparingly showered on me was such true
blessings that the sparingness ensured it was counted and enjoyed. Too much of
the happiness would have been truly an overdose, it might have got lost. But, brilliantly
you sent me a surge if sorrows good enough to clear out my tear valves and moisten
my eyes quite frequently. You do take very good care of the eyes by the by. My
friend count almost lost limits this year. I found some very extraordinary lot
and realized the sincerity of many. I got to know my loved ones a bit more, which makes
our bondings stronger this year. There were losses to me, but none equals the
gains in unison. The days were bright enough and there was sufficient rain and
sun to invest for the coming year as well. My days were good. I had to face
many hardships but nevertheless it made me stronger and more capable as I feel
it clearly. Thank you for all the small tokens as good luck you send my way and
I want you to know that though I thank you I despise you more. But, trust me only
love will stay, as you turn around the corner all this hate will go with you,
none to be retained in my memories.</span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span></i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span></i></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Good bye good year,Happy Christmas to you. I will miss you. It’s a pity you can't
visit me again nor can I visit you. Perhaps in some other world we will meet
again. Till then God be with you good year. </span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span></i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJvSPyz2DlKk7iceJ6x2c6iPHMvRf4Dmx8mUyIbIi8c1q4cd-Er7YZI2BV7gxI_mQImhOW1ZOdwI1CPZXYNB_sBTG1FzZm8HCpcYpiHPHq7GhgKUZ4PnirZ_IJ-VoaHVUVTx8WECO1GM/s1600/Red-lacquer-pen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJvSPyz2DlKk7iceJ6x2c6iPHMvRf4Dmx8mUyIbIi8c1q4cd-Er7YZI2BV7gxI_mQImhOW1ZOdwI1CPZXYNB_sBTG1FzZm8HCpcYpiHPHq7GhgKUZ4PnirZ_IJ-VoaHVUVTx8WECO1GM/s1600/Red-lacquer-pen.jpg" width="320" /></a><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Love, </span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span></i></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Gayathri Jayakumar.</span></span></i></span></div>
</div>
Gayathri Jayakumarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889249537345828240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341686530921619794.post-17439221456613001982014-12-14T00:25:00.003-08:002015-03-28T05:37:54.860-07:00My book Blossoms in the Mist will be launched the coming friday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_1UPjy4UveF8UdbwVRoVrUAMKDMxZTmgIAoYWifg6GCWIQevvco4KEJHsYiS7cnuMmgdr3kGlSEn80ZNU_jHtEGDfqsfi0mJiSWcvB_fAxibZXUJk2n7jd_oTe0qwulkRKYUDIImIckQ/s1600/poster+print.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_1UPjy4UveF8UdbwVRoVrUAMKDMxZTmgIAoYWifg6GCWIQevvco4KEJHsYiS7cnuMmgdr3kGlSEn80ZNU_jHtEGDfqsfi0mJiSWcvB_fAxibZXUJk2n7jd_oTe0qwulkRKYUDIImIckQ/s1600/poster+print.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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