Hello everyone,

Thank you for participating in the giveaway contest for Spark & Spice and answering the questions there.

This is the second giveaway alert – for
The Masquerade

This is to express heartfelt gratitude as The Masquerade is doing exceptionally well in numbers – both sales and reviews. It’s a huge achievement which wouldn’t have been possible without any of you.

I’m announcing 9 books to be won – ( 3 on this blog + 3 on Twitter + 3 on Instagram) You can participate in any of them. Or all.

The lucky winners will get a signed copy each (India) or an ebook (International)

So, to win a copy – Participation is simple –

-1. Follow this blog

-2. Share this article on any social media handle, your twitter, facebook, or instagram profile and tag me there

-3. Write your favourite quotation here in the comment box.

Do it before Midnight, 2nd Jan 2021.

3 lucky winners will be announced on 3rd Jan 2021, Sunday

………………………………

ALSO

I will be giving a copy of Spark & Spice to 10 lucky winners picked from the ones who wrote a review for The Masquerade – on Amazon or Goodreads.

So hurry up.  If you have read The Masquerade but didn’t leave a review on Amazon, it’s time to do it now 🎭✨
Winners will be chosen from the reviews collected until Jan 2nd Midnight.

Those who already did it, I love you from the bottom of my heart 💖💖💖
Leaving you all with the fabulous reviews by all those who already wrote such beautiful words about it. I have no words to express gratitude.
(This video was made by a very sweet admirer of mine who doesn’t want to be named here. It’s not by me.
It includes only few reviews that she randomly included, to fit in 1 minute of video. No one was deliberately left out. Love you all 🤗🤗🤗)

 

 

Hello dear friends,

Hope you are having a good day!

I’m here to announce the giveaway winners of The Masquerade.

It has been delayed as there were Covid19 restrictions and we couldn’t manage to get the courier services streamlined to deliver books at different places.

As many of you have already bought the book, in case the winners have the book, they can message me, I will include their names for the next book and send them before the release of the next book.

All winners have been chosen by random slip-picking by either my parents or kids.

4 winners of the quiz with Video trailers of the book were –

Bidisha Mohanty
Tanvie Sharma
Haripriya
Rosann

10 winners of the physical copy of the book (out of 25 giveaway winners)

Shanaya Sharma
Kiran Kanjani
Surbhi Gupta
Tara S
Dr. Rekha Sachdev
Madhuri Navlakha
Dipali Meghwal
Kudrat Jha
Kirti Bhatnagar
Kavita Chandwani

15 ebook winners have been contacted on their emails. Currently, ebooks are not available for gifting. So, I will send it as soon as Amazon opens that option.

Thank you so much for participating and spreading the word.

Also, for my next book – slated to release in December probably – (More about that in my next post) – I will choose 15 giveaway winners from the people who have reviewed The Masquerade on Amazon and Goodreads.

So, please go and review it if you haven’t done it already. It’s a big achievement for a book to have good number of reviews on Amazon. Sadly, even after requesting multiple times, people are sending reviews to me on Instagram, Twitter, and on Mails…but not on Amazon. Please do it if you have liked the book. It will help new readers and me, as well.

Thank you. Love you all.💖💖

Hope you are all staying safe and taking all precautions. God bless you people 🤗🤗🤗

M.

{PS – Update tonight 😀}

 

4

‘I was being stalked.

Who was he?

Rudra?

Was he following me?

But why?

Rudra appeared genuine and he left the clinic gracefully.

Why would he do so?’

‘Then, who if not him?

An admirer? A psychologically unstable patient? A serial killer?

Should I tell di and dadababu about it? No, they’ll be worried.’

Mrinalini was quiet for a long time. Her eyes were focused on her plate on the dining table. Ritusmita and Debojit exchanged glances while waiting for Mrinalini to speak. Debojit blinked to ask Ritusmita to be patient. Ritusmita nodded to agree.

Debojit was a pillar of strength to the Sengupta family and had ensured that they stayed strong and didn’t shatter even during the toughest of times. He was taller than Ritusmita at nearly five feet and eleven inches, had an oval face with matted brows and fine lines of ageing around his eyes, the only feature that spoke of his age, at forty-five. Otherwise, he was well built and physically well-maintained. His calm, mature face had the innocence of a child but a nerve of steel.

Ritusmita cleared her throat to get Mrinalini’s attention. She had waited the whole day to know more about Rudra Raghuvanshi and his appointment with Mrinalini. Like a lioness, Ritusmita fiercely guarded and protected her clan from every danger. Not just family, this privilege was extended to close friends and loved ones as well. Ritusmita was the wall of support people craved to have beside them. But her love and concern came with a price – a pile of questions, doubts, and advice about everything.

Mrinalini rotated her spoon in the pool of prawn rice and curry in her plate and pressed her lips. Ritusmita said, “Pihu, we are waiting.”

Mrinalini replied, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I’ve been quiet all this while.”
“Was Rudra difficult? Tell me if he misbehaved,” Debojit asked her.
“No, dada.” Mrinalini was quick to defend Rudra, well aware of the negative assumptions her family harboured against him. “He didn’t misbehave. He was not even difficult. Though, we didn’t talk much today.”

“Why?” Ritusmita asked.
“The session was cancelled because he was late. For a 4:30 pm appointment, he arrived at 7:00. So, I sent him back and rescheduled his appointment for 6:00 am tomorrow.”
“Pihu, I’m getting bad vibes about it since yesterday. I’m scared. We don’t want you to talk to him or meet him or have anything to do with him. Not now. Not any time in the future.”
“Di, I’ll be fine.” Mrinalini smiled to relieve Ritusmita.

Ritusmita put her hand over Mrinalini’s and said, “Listen, Pihu, I was worried even when he booked an appointment with you. I didn’t stop you as you wanted to go ahead and talk to him. But it is not worth it. Rudra is a dangerous man. We can’t trust him.”
Mrinalini held Ritusmita’s hand. “Trust me, di. I won’t let him harm me.”
Debojit echoed with Ritusmita. “Mrinu, I think Ritu is right. You don’t need to meet him. We want you safe first.”

“Yeah, I understand…but,” Mrinalini’s words trailed off when Debojit spoke about her safety. She weighed the merits of telling them about the stalker. She was deeply shaken, but, unfortunately, she was not even sure whether someone was really stalking her, or it was one of her hallucinations.

She had never discussed with them about the presence of shadows she felt around her. About the sounds which were almost a part of her life now. From New York to Cremona, they followed her everywhere – inside her washroom, behind the curtains of her room, outside the window, under her bed, in the garden, in the car, around her cabin in the clinic – they were everywhere. They troubled her. They scared her. They confused her.

Someone following her was a new experience today, though. She decided to involve Ritusmita and Debojit only if it threatened to get out of hand. However, for initial precautions, she would have to stop walking alone at night and take the car to work from now onwards.

Ritusmita’s voice distracted her. “What are you thinking, baccha? There is no way I’m letting you talk to that guy anymore.”
“Honestly, even I don’t want him to come tomorrow,” Mrinalini accepted truthfully, shifting her gaze from Ritusmita to Debojit. “But…”
“But?” Ritusmita asked.
Mrinalini replied in a confused whisper, “I don’t know why, but I feel that he will come.”

“Tell him to get lost if he does.”
“How can I do that? I’ve scheduled an appointment for him.”
Debojit asked her, “Have you ever thought about ‘why’ he wants to talk to you?”
Mrinalini shrugged. “I can’t say. Do you think he knows me?”
Ritusmita twisted her hand in a questioning gesture, and replied, “Of course! How many Indians do you think live in Cremona to assume that he doesn’t know you?”

Mrinalini had thought about that. There were very few Indian families in this part of Cremona. Moreover, ‘Sengupta’ was not a usual surname here.
Debojit added, “So, basically, when ‘you,’ being a doctor, do ground research about all your patients, why do you think he hasn’t researched about you? He is a celebrity and has a lot at stake to lose if he deals with the wrong people. Why won’t he try to find out about his doctor? Particularly, a psychiatrist with whom he is about to share pages from his life.”

Ritusmita nodded and said, “Exactly. If he really needed counselling, there are hundreds of other doctors in the country. Why you? A Sengupta? He knows that you are Madhumita’s sister. You were away for the last twelve years, but he must have kept a tab on you. He knows that you have come back. I doubt that somehow, he also knows that we are getting the case reopened against him, and you are the witness.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know that yet?” Mrinalini speculated, trying to give a fair benefit of the doubt to Rudra.

Ritusmita nodded to agree, forking a piece of prawn. “I hope he doesn’t. We’ve kept it confidential. Nancy’s death looked like an accident, but it turned out to be cold-blooded murder. This time, we can’t take chances. Rudra should never know that you are also the eyewitness.”

Mrinalini took a deep breath and meekly replied, stammering, “But I saw only his hoodie…at the stairs towards the terrace… I didn’t see him…he was not even on the terrace.”

“You and Nancy, both were there. You saw only the hoodie, but Nancy saw Rudra. She volunteered to speak against Rudra in the court but lost her life. I’m so worried about you. I shouldn’t have allowed you to meet him.”
“Going by your logic, he should have killed me long back. Why now?” Mrinalini said, almost absentmindedly.
“Because everyone thought that Nancy’s death was an accident. You went to NYC, and the chapter was closed until a few months back when we found that Nancy was murdered. Her brother is devastated and wants to reopen Madhu’s case. He needs our help. I would have never called you back and risked your life if it was only about us.”

Debojit said thoughtfully, “One thing is clear. He knows you, for sure. He may not know why you are back from the US. Or that the case is being reopened against him. But he certainly knows that you went to the same school as him, and you are Madhumita’s sister.”
Mrinalini lowered her eyes, sadly, and sighed as she spoke, “But Madhu di never acknowledged me in school. She never talked to me. In fact, she wanted me to stay away from her.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you were sisters. She was in the same class as Rudra Raghuvanshi, and they were friends. We don’t really know if they were more than friends, but it appears that they were.”

Every speculation of Madhumita and Rudra being in a relationship hurt like a deep stab right through Mrinalini’s chest. It had been twelve years, Madhumita was no more, Rudra had had at least three girlfriends and several casual dates during this time.
Still.
The unease, the pain didn’t lessen. A gush of blood to her temples resulted in a tearing headache whenever she recalled how Madhumita despised her, knew that she was a crazy fan of Rudra, and proudly gloated about how one day, after the Physics practical class, Rudra had approached her to be friends with him.

Debojit’s voice distracted Mrinalini. “Rudra can never forget Madhu. The unexplained circumstances in which she died were linked to Rudra. Even if he didn’t know you in school, someone must have told him later that Madhu had a younger sister. He must have noticed the similarity in names when he sought the appointment. ‘Madhumita Sengupta.’ ‘Mrinalini Sengupta.’ The same surname. The familiar names. He and his team are not fools to overlook that.”
“So, why is he pretending as if he doesn’t remember me? It also means that he was never going to tell me about any of his secrets.”

Ritusmita stood up to get a refill of water in the jug, stressing over her point. “That’s what I want to say. He will never tell you the truth. He wants to whitewash his image before you so that he is forgiven. He will meet you with his bogus stories to fool you. Maybe he wants to know what we are up to.”

Mrinalini gulped the sizeable blob of saliva held in her throat for a long time. It was painful. A heavy knot in her chest tightened around her heart, making it a struggle against itself to beat. She didn’t expect this from Rudra. To behave so lowly, was clearly an inappropriate behaviour from an iconic personality. That he was trying to cheat her or make a fool of her was not fine. Role models aren’t allowed to behave lousily.

‘He assumed that I am an idiot. Indeed I am.’ Mrinalini could almost hear her brain grilling her heart for trusting him. What Ritusmita and Debojit had noticed had never occurred to her gullible mind. Or, maybe it did, and she had ignored it.
“At best, he is playing with you,” Debojit suggested.

Mrinalini winced at the suggestion. It was difficult to imagine Rudra as malicious or mean. In fact, she hated Nancy for deducing the conclusion that Rudra could kill Madhumita. She had felt suffocated, for she couldn’t strongly oppose Nancy, Ritusmita,and Debojit at that time, but she prayed for Rudra’s acquittal. Her heart had given him a clean slate much before the judiciary set him free.

‘What did he want now? Revenge? Is he that evil?’
Her heart was back to counting his positive attributes – Rudra was talented; he did charity; he gave his precious time to underprivileged children and deprived unsheltered animals; he was a calm guy, he was adorable; he loved his family; he loved his fans; he was soft-spoken, sophisticated, charming…

‘A perfect human being? Or a perfectly crafted image?’

She used to chant defences in his favour. If an artist was exceptionally talented, and he struck a chord with millions of fans, then he had to be a good human being first. She had always believed that your ‘heart showed in your art.’ If a person was genuine, honest, compassionate, and a good human being, only then it would reflect in his music or his work, on his face, in his interviews and interactions with random unknown people.

The general perception about Rudra, around the globe, was essentially positive. A section of the media spread stories about him, mainly about his affairs, his careless attitude towards work, punctuality issues, and care-a-damn behaviour. But none of them called him out for being ruthless or angry or vile.

Rudra Raghuvanshi was loved and worshipped like God by daft fanatics. Including her. He was a hero. ‘How could a hero go wrong?’
‘Or maybe he did?’

For the first time, Mrinalini realized how she had been repeating Rudra’s achievements and qualities, over and over again. Was it to convince herself? She wondered if she had been blinded by the mask he wore. Was she one of those idiots who were quick to ignore any negative news about their favourite stars and defended them without any logic?

Not that it was anybody’s fault. A loving heart always finds a way to guide the brain towards the path of least contradiction. A faithful mind will argue and win a debate that it ‘wants’ to win.

You only know what you want to know. You believe in what you want to believe. And most of all, you only see what you already hope to see. Humans are desperate to live in a bubble that gives them maximum warmth.

What mind doesn’t want to know, the eyes don’t perceive and the heart doesn’t understand.

Simple.

*

The Raghuvanshi family was dining, as well.

Over a huge, magnificent, antique dining table made of teakwood, carved to perfection, lay a feast with a lavish spread of Italian, Indian, and continental delicacies, specially arranged for Rudra, served in finest of fine porcelain, in white and gold.

Rudra devoted all of his attention to the food. His eyes followed his hands when he served himself a second helping of mushroom risotto and cheesy Potatoes Au Gratin, and continued to eat. Rachna Raghuvanshi shrugged when Rudra threw a casual glance towards his mother.

“What?” he asked.
“How was the meeting?” Rachna asked.
“Which meeting?” He rolled his tongue in his mouth carelessly, tossing pepper and extra cheese over the risotto.

Even on usual days, Rachna had no patience for him, and this was a particularly stressful day for her. Her son had neither bothered to call her nor informed her about his meeting with Dr. Mrinalini Sengupta. She knew about Rudra’s aversion for questions regarding his whereabouts.

But this was different…

Read more in my debut novel – The Masquerade

Now available on Amazon, Flipkart, Kobo, ibooks, Google Play Store

Buy The Masquerade at Amazon here – https://amzn.to/2DbbKNR

For more write-ups, posters, trailers, info – Visit my blog at http://www.manitav.net

 

For more Links – click here –   www.manitav.net

I have no words to sum up my heartfelt feelings of gratitude and love for each one of you.

Whatever I have aspired for, all that I am and everything I have achieved wouldn’t have been possible without you 💖💖💖

Thank you.

Love you.

M.

 

3

 

Twelve years is too long a time when spent away from people you care about. Too short, when asked how well you remember them.

‘Was he even there? In flesh and blood?’ Mrinalini wondered. He could very well be another hallucination of hers. She had been getting them more frequently these days. The frown on his face, the confused look in his eyes, and his pursed lips told her that he might be there. Standing right before her.

‘For a long time, he had been…just her…’

‘Uh…what?’ she asked herself but received no reply. She had no relationship labels to give him. No definition. No appropriate tag for the permanent occupant of her thoughts for most of her life. It was impossible to categorize and name the space in her life that belonged to Rudra. Except for the fact, that almost every deep-seated emotion in her heart, positive or negative, began and ended with him.

If stalking on social media was not counted, then she was looking at him after over a decade. It was only natural to forget to reply to his question. She also forgot about any other welcoming gesture. In fact, she stood like a statue with her eyes fixed at him. He slightly wiggled his brows, made a quick pout, and cleared his throat to distract her. Instead of asking anything else, he repeated her name in a questioning tone. “Doctor? Mrinalini Sengupta?”

“Yeah.” The realization finally hit her that he had taken her name twice, thankfully without making it sound like a tongue-twister.

To keep a straight face while going through a mess of countless emotions inside was a difficult task. But Mrinalini was used to it. She aced every instance when her facial expressions had to defy her feelings. She even smiled while replying him.

He turned his head halfway around to look at his staff of two, probably bodyguards, standing right behind him, and dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Once they left, he turned to face Mrinalini before introducing himself in a poised tone. Stretching his hand towards her, he said, “Hello, I’m Rudra Raghuvanshi.”

‘Yeah? Did he really think that he will have to introduce himself?’

She nodded to acknowledge it and accepted his hand for a handshake. “Dr. Mrinalini Sengupta.”

A strange warmth swam across his eyes as he smiled. She returned the smile, absolutely hating the fact that it was already 7 p.m. He was two and a half hours late. Her staff had left, and she was alone in the clinic with only a guard outside. It was a tricky situation. Entertaining a client at this time, even if he was Rudra Raghuvanshi, was reckless. She couldn’t take the risk to suggest that she could compromise on timings, schedules, and safety for anyone in the world. It would appear desperate.

If she shunned him away, chances were high that he may never return. Seeking an appointment from her clearly meant that he wanted to talk. ‘Why? What did he want to talk about?’ she thought. Sending him away would ensure that she may never be able to hear his side of the story.

Rudra craned his neck to look around and noticed the empty clinic. With a subtle shrug of one shoulder, he politely reminded her, “Ma’am, I have an appointment.”

The tone, the pitch of his voice was just perfect. Soft and poised.‘Of course!’ Mrinalini remembered how he was famous for his cultured ways and sophisticated mannerisms, along with an unprofessional attitude. In school, he used to manage green checks in attendance registers using his charming ways. These days, he got through his lack of professionalism, unpunctuality, and erroneous decisions with his polished, suave style. People who knew him vouched for his urbane manners and grounded personality.

Mrinalini had read a lot about him. Tabloids, gossip columns, and internet news portals regularly featured how he was a delight to interact with, and how considerate and soft-spoken he was with everyone around him. His alluring personality, along with all the scandals and controversies surrounding him, kept him in the news all the time. She knew how sophisticated he behaved, especially when he wanted people to dance to his tunes. Unfortunately, she was not one of them who would happily do that. She was aware of his tricks.

Mrinalini replied with a smile, “Actually, you ‘had’ an appointment.”
He shrugged carelessly, looking around, and said, “Am I a bit late?”
“Not ‘a bit.’ You are ‘very’ late,” she replied with a dignified grace in her tone.
He pursed his lips together as if in regret, shrugged again, and spoke in a balanced, calm voice, “I’m sorry. I’m coming directly from a shoot. Can you please ‘reschedule’ my appointment?”

This was interesting. She had hoped for a plea and a request to take him in. On usual days, celebrities threw tantrums demanding special privileges. Nothing was odd-hours for them. Nothing was impossible. Uncomfortable about such consultations, Mrinalini would finish them at a stipulated time and never entertained them after-hours. She was used to dealing with an intimidating, dominating behaviour from the rich and the famous. They expected others to break rules and go out of their way to accommodate them.

Rudra did nothing like that. In fact, he apologized for being late and was now patiently requesting her to reschedule the dishonoured appointment. He even went ahead and offered to pay for the damages, if any. Mrinalini politely refused. It was enough of a surprise for her that he was willing to visit again.

‘How unlike a celebrity!’ the silly fan inside her gushed, feeling proud. ‘How unlike others. How wrongly the media portrayed him…’
Deep inside her skull was a brain with a logical streak. A brain that speculated a lot more than everyone else. A brain that reminded her about how people fake their personalities and behaviour as per their convenience. They are different with different people. No one is as they look or act. People are just too quick to judge each other according to their suitability.

Celebrities go one step ahead in this facade. They adorn and shed personalities as per their needs. With millions of eyes gauging their words and actions, why would one believe that a celebrity would naively display his real self before the world? Why would they invite unnecessary judgements and opinions, as if they weren’t loaded with them already? It was safer to keep a smokescreen and let the world believe what they wanted to believe.

Her mind was on a duel with itself, as usual.

‘Whatever!’ It was dangerous for fans like her who wanted their stars to be near perfect creations of God. They already believed in a larger-than-life image of their favourites. Rudra wrote inspiring words, and his music motivated millions, giving hope to people like her. He helped her retain her faith in the goodness of the world and, indirectly, in him.

Right now, he was in her clinic, reaching out to her. She had to find out what made him contact her after so many years and what exactly he wanted from her. There had to be a strong reason behind this.

‘Ohh! Does he want to influence me? Does he know that my family is planning to reopen the case against him?’

When he smiled, his eyes narrowed, thankfully reducing the flash of bright sparkle his orbs radiated. His eyes mirrored the subtle smirk on his lips. He raised his brows and waited for a reply from her.

It was hard to resist his charm. Already a fan of his music, his personality, and his mannerisms, Mrinalini didn’t take much time to form an opinion. ‘He is not fake. He seems to be a nice, genuine man, often misunderstood by people who don’t know him or feel jealous of him.’

‘No, Mrinalini…no…forming opinions this quickly is against your training and your profession,’ Immediately, she corrected herself and stepped behind the low reception desk to boot the system, unaware of the subtle smirk Rudra sported. Pushing away the useless thoughts cramming the spaces in her mind, she sat down on a chair and moved the cursor on the desktop computer screen with her gaze fixed on the roster listed before her. He leaned against the brown, teakwood reception desk and rested his rear over the low top. Well aware of his presence this close to her, she tried not to allow the scent of his cologne overwhelm her.

“Sir, should I fix an appointment for tomorrow morning?”
“I’m afraid, I have a shoot tomorrow morning.”
“Is it okay for tomorrow evening?”
“Umm…No, we have a pre-launch party of the music album tomorrow evening.”
“Day after tomorrow? Morning?”
“Shoot again in the morning.”
“Day after tomorrow, evening?”
“Charity baseball match with local newspaper staff at that time.”

One by one, she listed out all the available spots for the month, inwardly appreciating her receptionist for the challenging job she handles. To deal with difficult clients at the reception desk was as strenuous a task as dealing with little kids throwing tantrums. On second thoughts, kids behaved better on most of the days.

Mrinalini didn’t have the patience or the time for this pain, and it was not even her job. But she continued as she had Rudra Raghuvanshi before her. The last person in the clinic was obligated to assign an appointment, anyway.

Further attempts to settle at a slot met with more excuses from him. For instance, he was going to Rome for a day; he had his parent’s anniversary celebrations to attend; his friends were visiting Cremona for a weekend; he had work commitments; one day was his dog’s birthday; his dog was getting vaccinated, etc.

‘So, he is doing this deliberately.’ She knew the trick. And so did he. Flustered, she raised her hands in the air and said, “That finishes the list for the next 30 days. You seem to be too busy.”
“Hmm.” He sighed and stood up, twisting his lips. She stood up from her chair, too. Slowly rocking his head back and forth, he said, “I happen to be busy. What do we do about that, ma’am?”
“Give me a suitable time when you are free to talk.”
With unmatched confidence in his tone, he replied persuasively, “Now?”

She wasn’t sure if she had ever heard a request as polite as this one. Also, she was not sure if someone had tried to trick her in such a sweet and compelling way before. ‘So, this is how he does it?’

Stiff posture, eyes focused right on his subject, and a heavy baritone added to the effect he created with his graceful words. His face remained taut after that one word—’Now.’ He was determined that he wasn’t going to speak more. He didn’t need to. One word was enough from him to intimidate her. Such was his confidence even after being two and a half hours late.

Mrinalini observed him for a long time. A fan like her would have taken only a moment to sway towards his way. But she was aware that inside her clinic, their relationship was different than ‘fan-and-icon.’ Here, she was the doctor and he, the patient. Any change in this dynamic would be disastrous. She looked right back in his eyes, ignoring the fact that he was almost a foot taller than her, and in a soft but firm voice, she replied, “But, sir, these are not our working hours.”

His face lost the subtle smirk as his eyes darkened. He had obviously not expected a ‘no’ from her. No one ever refused him. Not for anything. A pretty, young girl refusing his request was serious. It was a challenge to his charisma.

Seconds later, the smile returned with a vengeance. Nodding in acceptance of his first defeat, he tried again. With raised eyebrows, a disarming smile, and a confident, velvety soft voice, he asked, “Why don’t you make it an exception for today? I’m sure you can do this. For me?” With that, he added a pressurizing ‘Please.’

The arrow he had shot hit the intended spot. Mrinalini felt her heartbeat quicken when he requested her to stretch her working hours today. For him. The man she had wanted to meet once in this lifetime. The one she fancied talking to. The man she had consistently admired. Her favourite was requesting her to make some changes in her routine for him. Just for him. With a ‘please’ added to his request.

His mannerisms were daunting, his weapons  – a warm smile and soul-piercing eyes. Eyes, that possessed the power to hold her hostage to his wishes and demands.

A ‘yes’ was on the tip of her tongue. It was so hard to say ‘no.’ But she had to refuse. She said, “Sir, I will certainly take your request and do an ‘exception,’ …uh… ‘just for you.’ But tomorrow morning? We are normally open every day from 11:00 am to 6:00 pm. Tomorrow morning, I’ll get the clinic opened for you as early as 6:00 am. Will that be fine with you?”

This time, he grinned. To refuse him was a dare. To refuse him twice was a double dare. He didn’t expect it. Never. She knew she had to turn down his unreasonable request if she expected him to respect her. However, there stood a high chance of him turning away to never return. But there was not a single chance that he would ever take her for granted if he did come back.

He didn’t appear to be in a mood to lose the game so soon. In fact, he had started enjoying it. He thrust his thumbs inside the front pockets of his denim jeans and let the remaining fingers rest over the fabric, drumming over it. “But I have a shoot tomorrow. I’ve told you that in the mornings, we shoot for the album.”
“We have your schedule in our system. Your shoot will start at 10 am. So, you can come in the morning, 6 am?”
“I’ll have to get ready before that. I’ll be late on the set.”
“Is that even a problem? Aren’t you ‘always’ late on the sets?” she asked matter-of-factly, with her brows raised to enhance the effect.

This time, he laughed candidly. “Who told you so? It’s a rumour.”
She grinned. “We do our homework, sir. Basic research about ‘every’ patient who seeks an appointment with us is mandatory.”
He laughed more. “Impressive. Do you realize that you are refusing ‘me’?”
“I’m so sorry.”

“You must know that not everyone manages to impress Rudra Raghuvanshi. You just did.” He found himself listening to her, almost agreeing to her arrangement and looking forward to the next day.
“Thank you. See you tomorrow morning.” She smiled without acknowledging the compliment.

He smiled too. It wasn’t pleasing for Rudra, but it wasn’t disheartening, either. “See you tomorrow, then. This is the first time someone has shown me the door, so politely and so nicely.”

“I’m sorry, again. I didn’t mean to offend you. But that is how it goes,” she apologized, genuinely feeling bad for her star. For a moment, she wished she could behave like a teenager and gush at meeting him, stop him from going, and talk to him right away, but she knew that she couldn’t do that. She shouldn’t.

He walked out of her clinic, leaving her alone with her musings. Nothing was more unfortunate than looking forward to talking to someone but having to send him away instead. To talk to Rudra, to meet him someday had been a dream for her. She used to fantasize about him. And he had lived up to her expectations. He had been polite, well-behaved, and sophisticated, just as people wrote about him. And as she had imagined him to be. He definitely looked more handsome than his appearances on TV and social media.

He remained on her mind long after he was gone and she couldn’t stop admiring his down-to-earth attitude and his stunning looks – a tall, lean, and muscular built; athletic, agile gait and straight posture; his eyes, the most defenceless feature attracting attention to his boyish looks; a canopy of soft, ruffled hair falling on his forehead; an incredibly attractive smile enhancing his glazed physical attributes, as if a dash of chocolate over a cream-cheese muffin.

The loyal fan inside her was thrilled to see her favourite musician. The silent follower and well-wisher couldn’t have asked for more. Since school days, she had wished for nothing but the best for him. In return, she had yearned for a look from him. Or maybe, a smile for her.

One fine day, she was told that she had to hate him. She had tried to do that for years but eventually failed. She could never hate him.

When she was informed about the appointment that he had booked with her, she was numbed. She didn’t know how to react. Happiness to finally meet him was blunted by nervousness. Excitement marred by sadness. How she really felt about him, how she was supposed to feel, and how Ritusmita and Debojit wanted her to feel about him, all contested with each other.

She was convinced that she had to do this to find closure, but was she even prepared for any closure? No. She wasn’t ready for his image in her mind to be tarnished. She wanted her star to keep shining in the sky like an invincible force prepared to take the world down. She decided that she had already had her closure. She wanted nothing else. She was sure that Madhumita’s death was not his fault. He had never been the culprit in her eyes, and he would never be.

He left her clinic, and she wasn’t sad. In fact, she had made it easier for him to go. He might not come back tomorrow. Probably, it was good if he didn’t come back. She didn’t want him to be proved wrong at any step. She didn’t want to know his truth.

Senguptas, as a family, had gone through an extended mourning phase. For twelve years, they had grieved for the loss of their girl, Madhumita, blaming Rudra for her untimely death. However, there had been no proof against him. Neither police nor the doctors investigating the circumstances of Madhumita’s death claimed of any clue directly related to Rudra. There had been no evidence except a few people who had seen him at the site. The eyewitness, Mrinalini’s best friend, Nancy Verghese, had died in a drowning accident a couple of months later, and the case was closed. It was opened and closed twice, before this. And now, it was about to be reopened, once again. After twelve long years.
Mrinalini wished she could stop this development

She was ashamed of the fact that her heart was more with Rudra than her own people. She believed that he had been a victim of circumstances, for he wouldn’t commit a murder.
‘He would never do that.’ She was firm.
She had her own theories – He was a good guy. He wrote soulful music, and his voice touched every bleeding heart to soothe it. He had been a role model for many people like her; their hope during the dark times; an inspiration when they felt low. His songs brought life to dull schedules. His smiles lit up bad days.

‘No, he couldn’t be involved in my sister’s death. Or Nancy’s death.’
It was unfortunate that Madhumita had died in weird circumstances. So did her witness, Nancy. Ritusmita blamed Rudra for both. But Mrinalini never believed it. She didn’t even believe the gossip that Rudra and Madhumita had a secret affair.

She was not sure if Rudra knew that he had a secret admirer in her, who defended him in his absence. Or  that the gorgeous, tall, stylish girl in his class had a younger sister in a class junior to theirs. There was no reason for him to ever know about her being an indirect witness of the crime committed that night. A fact that she had always tried to forget. Instead, she focused on being a witness to his growth as a singing star all these years.

She had been proud of his success. She had celebrated when his albums hit the blockbuster charts. She would often check his increasing follower count on social media and visited his fan-clubs to read posts by crazy fans. She collected his music, even when she was in New York. She would download his songs on her iPod to listen to them on loop when she studied or went for running marathons. His music was a slice of life. It was all about love, endurance, and peace for her.

When she returned to Cremona, she had hoped to bump into him, someday. She wanted to see him once before they met in court. She was aware that he mostly lived in Rome, but her hopes never dimmed as Cremona was his hometown. His parents lived here. But she had no idea that they would meet like this. This soon.

‘Does he really need me for psychiatric treatment?’ she wondered. ‘Will I be able to help him if he needed counselling?’
‘At what cost?’ The load that he expected to shed off from his chest was bound to find a home in her heart.
‘Am I prepared for that? Or is it a trap? An attempt to meet me before the trial began, to convince me that he is innocent?’

*

Gorgeous during the day, Cremona became dark and mysterious once the sun bowed down on its toes, losing all its radiance before the mighty seduction of the nightfall.

The long, deserted lanes of the central city; the tall silhouettes of the church; the narrow pathways with tailing shadows of looming, stoned buildings, all stood as silent spectators to noir stories unfolding around the quaint neighbourhood.

It was one of those days when Mrinalini worked till late. When she set foot outside the clinic, it was so dark that the silhouettes of buildings merged with the darkness of the sky, stretching their stature in the vertical dimension. The already tall buildings appeared scarier and intimidating. She had to squint to rule out the presence of a shadow, looking at her from behind the pillar.

‘There is no one. Relax.’ She convinced herself, while her heart played with its beats and pattern. The nippy air, the swishing sound of the roadside plants, the dried leaves fallen on the ground, trying to take flight in the breeze, and the deserted road was enough to send a shiver down her spine. Even the moon appeared to be scared to peer out from behind a handful of clouds.

Mrinalini balanced her handbag on her shoulder and started walking, taking decidedly long, quicksteps. She consciously chanted to herself how she wasn’t going to let fear overwhelm her. How it was not new for her to walk around in this area. The locality, the city, the lanes were familiar to her since childhood. How she preferred walking as compared to taking the car; hence, she was on foot today. It wasn’t a conspiracy against her.

Moments later, she heard footsteps behind her. ‘Maybe the guard or a random passer-by?’ her brain reasoned with her. To confirm the same, she turned around.
No one.
A wave of anxiety ran through her and concentrated at her spine. She turned around and resumed walking. ‘It must be my imagination.’

It was nothing new. Vague sounds, unrelated to anything concrete, would hound her every time she was alone. She had tried to be logical about it, struggled to assign a source to these sounds, tried to understand them, but failed. She even tried to negate their existence. She would close her eyes or divert her mind to ignore them, but nothing worked. The sounds often returned stronger.

Once again, Mrinalini tried to ignore the faint sound of footsteps, quite close behind her, apparently following her. The forsaken narrow lane was eerie like a graveyard, with no man, animal, or bird around. It was dead silent except for these muffled sounds behind her. Once again, she stopped, prayed to God for strength, and gathered all her courage. The sound stopped as well. She turned around again.
No one.

This time, she quickly turned about and broke into a run. The steps behind her picked up pace in track with her. She didn’t dare to turn around anymore. She wet her dry lips with her moist tongue and raced ahead. Her only aim, right now, was to reach the main road. A few steps more to be covered in this empty lane before the next turn. Once she got through the main road, she would cross it to enter her neighbourhood – a relatively safe area.

Her quick steps matched with the other set of quicker steps right behind her. Strong, masculine, faster steps, she guessed. She didn’t stop. She didn’t turn back. She just ran.

Within two minutes, she crossed the deserted lane and took the intended turn. There it was, the main road – well-illuminated, fairly-crowded with vehicles moving in both the directions.

Mrinalini was panting by now. Tired, but relieved. An old couple taking an evening walk, hand in hand, crossed her. A man following his dog on a routine stroll recognized her and waved towards her. She had never paid attention to this guy before. Today, she took a deep breath of relief, smiled, and waved back. Deep down, she was still terrified and sweating heavily despite the cold weather.

Once again, her shoulder blades were aching badly; an excruciating pain from between her shoulders radiated down her spine. Things were getting weird, and she had almost no dots to connect.

***

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The Masquerade: Sample Chapter 4

 

2

 

October 2017

Cremona, Italy

Cremona, one of the most beautiful cities in Italy, boasting of an enormous cultural heritage and a socially rich legacy, woke up to a lazy winter morning to witness the sunshine tearing through the darkness of the receding cold night.

The ancient Gothic architecture, the unique pattern of similar-looking buildings, and the deserted narrow lanes with stoned pathways welcomed the natives and tourists alike to bask in the warmth, beauty, and the simple laid-back attitude that the city promised.

Every morning, Dr. Mrinalini Sengupta began her day with Bharatnatyam, the Indian dance form that she had been learning since she was eight years old. This ritual was nothing less than meditation for her. It helped her enter a state of trance where no trace of negativity, stress, or worry touched her. It was necessary to cleanse her mind and push the despair away from the inner circle of her thoughts for the peace that she needed for her profession.

As a psychiatrist, she met with different patients every day, each with a unique set of problems. They discussed their issues with her to free themselves of their nagging, troublesome thoughts, without realizing that they were unloading their baggage on her. On her part, she tried to listen as patiently as she could before she guided and treated them. However, she was yet to learn the process of ‘clinical detachment’ – a defence mechanism to deal with the myriad of emotions arising out of empathy towards her patients.

It added to her pre-existing personal struggles. Every night, her nightmares would grow their ugly tentacles, threatening to envelop her and suffocate her. Every morning, she needed to cut those arms to be freed. She woke up tired, having fought her own demons of fear at night.

Every day, the patient consultations, one after the other, poured hundreds of doubts in her mind to tangle with her thoughts and form a mess of their own. It was important for her to stabilize her thoughts before she started another day of an unforgiving routine, and before she claimed her role as an anchor who helped in connecting wandering minds to the bodies they belonged to.

Bharatnatyam worked to bridge every gap. With each piece of music, her poised steps landed gracefully over the floor, simulating a divine connection between the mortal being and the higher power, uniting and aligning her with the forces of nature.

She danced for twenty minutes, but every hope for peace came crashing down when she felt more anguished with every move she made. Usually, it calmed her, but not today. Today, her mind was neither in sync with the music nor with her feet. It coursed through a different journey of its own, following and tracing a time-graph of the past decade. Rudra Raghuvanshi’s hoodie with ‘R’ on the back, Madhumita’s enchanting smile when she won the beauty pageant, Bernando’s vague fascination for Madhumita, Nancy’s giggles on her own stupid jokes, Peter’s helpless cries, Ritusmita’s strictness, their parents’ carelessness guised as chilled attitude with the girls – all flashed before her eyes, one after the other as a slideshow. And then, everything was replaced by a dark screen, followed by the visuals of Madhumita’s bleeding body, on the school floor.

Mrinalini felt restless. And distressed. After all, Rudra Raghuvanshi was back in the city, just like she was back from New York.

‘Why?’ she wondered.

‘Is it really a random coincidence, as I prefer to assume? Or is it a planned move?’

‘What does he want from me?’

‘Does he know me?’

‘Does he know that I remember him?’

 

Even a vague thought suggesting that he might know her gave her goosebumps over her arms and nape of her neck. Did he think about her? Ever? A part of her brain speculated.

‘No.’ Immediately, the other part of her mind refuted that thought or even a possibility of anything like that.

The ways of the human mind are mysterious – it takes hardly a few seconds to weave imaginary threads connecting people, places, incidents, situations, or circumstances, whether they exist or not. Only to contradict itself the very next moment. It can debate with itself and play a question-answer session all on its own. It can speculate and refute, build hopes and quash them, form castles of random impossible stuff and name them fantasies…
Such is the human mind.

‘Of course, this is a fantasy too… Rudra Raghuvanshi doesn’t know me…
Or maybe he does…’

They had never crossed paths despite attending the same school. They had never talked to each other. Not even once. He was a class senior to her, in Madhumita’s class. When she was in 4th year of the IB diploma programme in high school, he was in the exit batch of 5th year of another course.

‘He was, in fact…’ Her mind wandered again. Mrinalini deliberately stopped her mind from thinking more about him. The last thought trailed off, leaving a painful stab in her heart. Furious tears formed and stood at the margins of her eyes. She knew that she needed to hold both – the disturbing thoughts and her tears – if she wanted to concentrate on her dance moves. The reflection of the intricate hand movements and graceful postures in the tall, human-sized mirror in her room held her attention for some time. But not for long. Soon, the memories breezed back with a vengeance, creating complex knots to dwell between the recesses and folds her brain allowed.

There is no point in running away from the truth. The earlier we accept it, the easier it becomes to deal with it. She completed the sentence that she had hated to believe.
‘Rudra Raghuvanshi was, in fact… Madhumita di’s best friend. And my sister probably loved him.’

But, so what if Madhumita loved him? The entire school loved him, too. He was the teenage rockstar. He played enchanting music and had a band of his own. Perfectly using his charismatic personality, he would charm his way through attendance registers and get special considerations from teachers. He won inter-school competitions for St. Joseph’s High School. It was natural for the teachers, the principal, and almost all the students to be in awe of him. All – meant‘all’- including Mrinalini and Madhumita.

Though, something unexpected happened one day. For the first time in her life, Mrinalini had been jealous of Madhumita. Only because of Rudra. She was never going to forgive him for that.

The sound of music stopped, and her feet followed. Mrinalini turned around to find her older sister, Dr. Ritusmita Sengupta, standing at the entrance.

Ritusmita was a confident, smart, and dependable doctor, known all over Cremona as one of the best gynaecologists in the town. She was tall – around five feet and nine inches – beautiful, and petite with an athletic body, thanks to the regular exercise and a healthy diet that she religiously followed. She didn’t look like she was in her early forties. Her dedication towards her patients was unmatched. So was her love for Mrinalini.

Ritusmita was the only family Mrinalini had, after her mother, father, and sister, Madhumita, passed away. Ritusmita and her husband, Dr. Debojit Bannerjee, took care of her as parents do. After Madhumita was killed, they sent her to New York to study medicine and ensured that she received the best of everything that she needed and they could afford.

“Aren’t you getting late, Pihu?”

Mrinalini was given several names. Ritusmita called her ‘Pihu.’ Debojit, whom she called dadababu (brother-in-law in Bengali), called her ‘Mrinu.’ Her friends called her ‘Mini.’ She hated them all. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, though. ‘Mrinalini’ was a complicated name. It had been a topic of harmless jokes among friends and relatives that such a long and difficult name belonged to a simple, short girl of five feet and two inches. She hated them even more for that. Not a lot of people could correctly pronounce her name. Her friends and people who didn’t know her well, especially non-Bengalis, almost always fumbled with her name and struggled with the ‘r’ that came after M.

“I was about to get ready.” Mrinalini opened the knot in her dupatta,tied on one side near her waist.
“Are you fine, Pihu?” Ritusmita asked, studying her face.
“Of course! What happened to me?” she asked and shrugged, trying to appear calm. She even tried to smile for Ritusmita. But Ritusmita wasn’t naive to be fooled by fake smiles or tailored gestures. She continued to probe, “Pihu, I was at the reception of your clinic yesterday when I heard people gushing about ‘him’ taking an appointment with you. Is that true?”

Mrinalini nodded, appearing nonchalant. “Yes.”
“Why? Why does Rudra Raghuvanshi want to meet you?”
“Seems to be a professional reason,” Mrinalini replied with a shrug. She had been speculating too since her manager and staff informed her about the esteemed musician’s request for an appointment with her.
“Why you? There is no dearth of doctors in Rome, where he lives. Or here in Cremona. Why did he choose you?”
“I don’t know.”

“Does he know…that…” Ritusmita asked cautiously, leaving the last part unsaid.
Mrinalini shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. How would he possibly know about our plan of action?”
“Surprising!”
“Yeah.”
“Will you be able to deal with him?” Ritusmita asked.

“Yes, di,” Mrinalini tried to appear confident. She raised her foot to rest it on the chair and removed the ghungroos from her feet, one by one. She then set them delicately over the glass table in one corner, right next to the pictures of Ritusmita, Madhumita, and Mrinalini – taken during their happy times. In one picture, all three of them were dressed in the traditional attire before a public performance of Bharatnatyam.

“I’m worried about you,” Ritusmita said. “You don’t look in the right frame of mind since yesterday. You skipped dinner last night. I think you should refuse to meet him. You don’t need to go through the pain.”
“I’m not stressed about meeting him.” Mrinalini lied. She went back and curled her arms around Ritusmita, resting her face on her sister’s shoulder. A familiar scent from Ritusmita’s starched cotton saree reminded her of their mother, who used to wear similar sarees, sometimes wrapping the saree in a Bengali way, especially during the festivals.

Ritusmita was no less than a mother for Mrinalini. In her arms, every stress, every burden felt a lot lighter. A hug from her sister provided the comfort that Bharatnatyam, meditation, and yoga together couldn’t.

*

Rudra Raghuvanshi scrolled through social media posts of the doctor he was meeting today.

His manager, Trevor Dsouza, a tall guy of five feet and eleven inches, with blonde hair and blue eyes, noticed that his boss was not paying attention to the detailed plan he had laid out regarding the marketing and publicity of the new music album. It was nothing new. Trevor was now used to the inattentive stance of his boss when it came to album promotions.

“Sir.” Trevor cleared his throat sufficiently loud to gain Rudra’s attention.
“Yeah?” Rudra replied dryly, without lifting his eyes from the phone screen or stopping his thumb, and kept scrolling through Mrinalini’s pictures and posts.
“Isn’t she the psychiatrist you’ve booked an appointment with?” Trevor asked.

This time, Rudra turned his eyes towards his manager. He didn’t speak a word. The long pause was enough to intimidate Trevor.

“Sorry, sir.” Trevor lowered his eyes to focus on the papers spread on the coffee table. He should have been careful, he knew. Rudra didn’t like questions. He never explained what he was doing and why. He never clarified any of his actions and never discussed his plans with anyone. He simply listened to what others had to say, asked for a schedule, details of the agenda, mode of execution of every plan, and then went ahead to do whatever he liked. This was just a glimpse of how he preferred to be in the professional set-up. To try to step inside Rudra Raghuvanshi’s personal space, was out of question. A clearly restricted domain. Trevor reminded himself about this little detail.

“Sir, this is an important leg of the promotion and publicity. The company is spending a bomb on the plan. You are supposed to travel to six cities for this tour.” Trevor moved his pen over a few loose A4 size sheets spread between them.
“When does it start?”
“Next month, sir.”
“Not possible,” Rudra declared.
“Sir?” Trevor was gaping at him, tongue tied.

“Trevor.” One word was enough. One small word, spoken patiently and nicely, with a soft smile on Rudra’s face conveyed to Trevor that he was wasting his time in further discussion. Rudra was not interested. And he was not even rude when he refused. He was always, by default, calm and composed. He never lost his temper. He neither yelled at people nor hurled abuses. He used a few words or gestures to communicate his instructions, and the world around him understood.

“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Rudra stood up with his attention back to his phone and started to walk away. Being taller than Trevor worked in his favour when he wanted to intimidate him. Standing straight, one hand holding the phone and the other in the pocket of his denim jeans, his neck slightly bent towards Trevor and eyes fixed on him, Rudra asked in a pleasing but firm tone, this time, with a wider smile, “Anything else, Trevor?”

“No, sir,” Trevor said. He had worked with Rudra long enough to know that it was impossible to know what this man was thinking. Not that it mattered much. As long as his salary was deposited in his account on time, he hardly bothered about delving further into Rudra’s personality and behaviour. And it wasn’t just him. There had been no one who could claim to know Rudra Raghuvanshi. Not even his family and friends.

Rudra was a famous singer and musician. He had an enormous fan following, counting in millions, on various social media platforms. Most of his songs turned out to be chartbusters, topping almost all the music lists. To earn such a huge following, accolades, riches, and reputation at the age of twenty-nine needed hard work and discipline that Rudra had never shied away from. He had maintained it since teenage. People loved him, claimed to know him, and followed him on every social network channel and in person. His unassuming smile and modest behaviour added to his handsome features, enviable height, and strikingly good looks. His followers were mainly girls of all ages. However, it was a pity that Rudra appeared to be unfazed by this craze and mania. His staff was often overwhelmed by the attention they received because of him, but Rudra had remained down-to-earth. They wondered why he was never carried away by the aura created by his fans. They had heard that the appreciation didn’t affect him during school days either. It didn’t affect him even now.

Rudra walked away, leaving Trevor to collect the papers. Trevor made a thin stack of them and carefully tucked them in a file. After taking three steps towards the door, Rudra turned to face him.

“Uh… Trevor.”
“Sir?”
“Don’t fix any appointments for the evening.”
“I know, sir. You have an appointment with the doctor.”

Rudra smiled and walked out of his home – the massive Raghuvanshi mansion, famous for its monumental size and architectural design. It was said to be an old medieval era masterpiece, a duke’s castle, now converted into a mansion with modern amenities. To boast owning such a magnificent mansion in Cremona, was a privilege. Rudra’s parents reminded this little fact to him at least three times a day. Not that he cared.

“Hello, Trevor. I need to speak with Rudra,” said Rachna Raghuvanshi, Rudra’s mother, walking inside the living room.

Trevor turned to her and greeted her. By no standards, attire, or attitude, Rachna looked like Rudra’s mother. Her elegantly wrapped blue silk saree had retained its crease even after half-a-day’s work. Her signature floral perfume; well-styled short curly hair carefully set around her shoulders; subtle, classy makeup; the muted lip shade; and her high heels had Trevor guess that she was coming from a social event. She was holding a file in her hand.

“Ma’am, Rudra sir has left,” Trevor informed her.
“But he was here… tch… anyway, when will he come back? And where did he go?” Rachna handed the file to her personal assistant, who was already holding three bags for her, and demanded the details from Trevor.
“No one knows about that, ma’am, until sir decides to share it. We don’t even know which car he has taken.”

Rachna smiled and said, “Tell me one thing, Trevor…”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I’m his mother. I have no choice but to tolerate him. But how do you deal with this guy?” She couldn’t hide how annoyed she was.

“If it wasn’t for the offensive amount of remuneration he paid to the staff, I’m sure all of us, the helpers and I, would have either left him or maybe joined him for the psychiatric consultation,” Trevor responded with a smile. Rachna shook her head with a sigh, and smiled, eventually.

*

Mrinalini read the letter thrice, and her grin simply widened every time. It said that the clinic had received an appreciation and an award from the Government of Italy for the charity camps she had conducted in the last few months, for the homeless and the destitute suffering from psychological disorders.

She had been working hard for the underprivileged sectors in and around Cremona, to help in the execution of the existing government schemes at a private level. She was passionate about her work. Since her return from America, around six months ago, she had been conducting mental health camps all over Cremona on a non-profit basis. Two awards, five paper presentations in Italian and international conferences, and regular coverage in newspapers had made her a coveted name in the field of psychiatry. Her patients rooted for her. Her staff loved her. And now, this letter was an added feather in her cap.

The rest of the day passed on a pleasant note. Routine consultations and therapy resumed. The appointment for 4:30 pm with Rudra Raghuvanshi went unhonoured. He didn’t turn up.

It was counted as a highly unprofessional attitude if a patient cancelled an appointment without prior information. The clinic staff, attendants, nurses, receptionists, and pantry boys, previously enthusiastic about meeting their music idol, were disappointed. Most of all, Melissa, Mrinalini’s personal assistant, felt let down. The young and bubbly ‘just-out-of-college’ intern, who was always a level more excited than others about meeting the famous people, couldn’t believe that her ‘rockstar’ had failed them. The staff left at around 6:00 pm, the regular closing time of the clinic.

Mrinalini was writing notes in the last patient’s file. She had always been particular about documentation of cases on the same day and never kept things pending for the next day, even if it delayed her.
Patients’ records reminded her about the cancelled appointment with Rudra Raghuvanshi. In a busy clinical practice, a cancellation was normal from both sides. But this was a case of ‘no show’ without informing the clinic. It was clearly rude.

‘Maybe he never intended to come. There are hundreds of leading psychiatrists in Italy. And all over the world, as di said… Why would he come here?’

She put her pen down and stood up to go out when a subtle knock on the glass door almost startled her. She went out of her cabin to check.

‘No. I am hallucinating again. Or is he really there?’

His overwhelming aura was everywhere. A towering height of six feet and one inch, straight posture, black hair falling over his forehead, toughened grim expression on his face, and an unpretentious gleam in his vulnerable eyes summed up Rudra Raghuvanshi. The taut jawline  and the one-day-old stubble enhanced the ruggedness of his debonair looks. A stunner to look at, Rudra hadn’t changed even a bit. He looked the same as he did twelve years ago. The only difference was that he was now a grown-up man of twenty-nine, leaving behind the charming young boy of seventeen, somewhere down the memory lane.

“Dr. Mrinalini Sengupta?” he asked. His voice was husky, with a velvety texture added to the gravity in each word. Mrinalini found her eyes widely open, fixed at him. Her mouth slightly parted to heave a sigh, for he had taken her name correctly.

Exact pronunciation at the first go. Without messing or fumbling with it.

***

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Read Chapter 3 –

The Masquerade: Sample Chapter 3

 

 

1

 

February 2016

New York

 

It is always difficult to judge what deceives a human being the most. The heart that believes all instincts, devoid of any logic. Or the mind that is mighty enough to create any logic that justifies its fancy beliefs.

Mrinalini stopped writing. Not because she was short of words. No.

In fact, she had so much to write that she could go on for the entire night. But she was unable to write more. Her fingers were aching. They were white and stiff. Almost competing with the view of Manhattan skyline from her apartment window. As if, all life form was frozen. Just like her.

She closed her diary and ran her fingers over the handmade cover where she had written –

~ This diary belongs to Mrinalini Sengupta – Plz don’t touch ~

She bit her trembling lower lip as her heartbeat paced for a rhythm faster than the normal. Her memory was clouded, and so was her judgement. She couldn’t come to a definite conclusion about whether she woke up scared due to a dream or she was scared after she woke up.

‘Did a nightmare about a haunting shadow near the window wake me up, or did I really see a scary figure lurking around my bedside?’

She could see nothing out of the window. It was one of those darkest hours of the night when the fog obscured most of the visibility. Arguably, it should have been usual for any night in late February. Only it wasn’t ‘just another ordinary night’ in February. It was that unfortunate date when her older sister, Madhumita, had died twelve years ago.

Mrinalini closed her eyes, trying not to remember that fateful accident. The accident that had disrupted her entire family. The scary visuals of bleeding Madhumita on the floor of the school disturbed her, even now.

A severe headache replaced the confusion, and Mrinalini couldn’t go back to sleep again. Penning down thoughts in her diary had always been therapeutic to her. But even that seemed to be failing then.

Suddenly, a vague sound from the adjoining room startled her. It was weird as the occupant, her flatmate Pia, a junior anaesthetist in the Civil Hospital, was doing the emergency duty that night. Mrinalini was sure that she was alone in the apartment when she retired to bed after dinner.

‘Or, maybe, I had assumed it to be like that.’

The sound of someone walking on the wooden floor became prominent enough to make her shudder. The stronger part of her brain challenged her to get up and check for the source of sound in the next room, while the weaker sections of her heart panicked and asked her to bolt the door from inside and duck her five feet two inches, slender frame deep inside the bedcovers.

Her mind and heart, the arch-rivals, loved to resume their age-old scuffle. Challenging her. Exhausting her. Defeating her. Every single time.

She remembered how the entire medical school training had emphasized the importance of trusting the brain over everything else. Logic and reasoning are your best friends when you get puzzled, they had said. However, Ritusmita, her elder sister, believed in the power of the heart in guiding a person. Let your heart be your highest priority, she always advised. It never misleads.

Medically, they only meant the conscious and subconscious parts of the brain – one relied on facts and experience, the other on instincts. Yet, it was fancy to call them ‘mind’ and ‘heart’ – movies were made and books were written on them, like that.

However, all of this was simply a theory, she knew.
In reality, it never happened like that. At times, the brain refused to listen to the heart and wanted to go ahead with what was justified and logical. While at other times, the opposite happened. The heart would often refuse to trust the brain if it had to compel an innocent soul to do things he might not have thought about, in a sane moment. The tussle between the two was inevitable. Almost considered normal.

‘But, what happens when the brain refuses to trust itself?

What if one area of the sensible brain asked the other area to shut up? When the mind was pitted against intellect, sense took a backseat and gave a prime position to confusions. What happens, then?’

It was a pity. No training could prepare her enough for this phase of life where she could trust no one. Not even her own mind.

Especially not her mind.

She could feel her back muscles stiffen, feet glued to the wooden bar below her writing desk, and sweat beads lacing her forehead despite the chill. Her lips were dry, and her throat hurt. A huge blob of saliva refused to slide down her throat. Goosebumps on her forearm reminded her that she had to take a decision.

Quick.

 ‘Should I go out and check for the source of sound or pretend that I heard nothing?’

The noises increased. A hushed murmur, this time.

Someone had taken her name in a low, husky, rugged whisper –’Dr. Mrinalini Sengupta!’

Someone was in the other room, facing the common wall, threatening to break it apart. The pressing of the foam mattress under someone’s weight, the rustling of bed sheet, the hoarse whisper, and the muffled hum of heavy breathing across the wall gave a blood-curdling picture of a cannibalistic monster crawling over the wall between the rooms, ready to pierce through it to reach her bed at any moment.

Mrinalini stood up with a jerk. She had to do something. She scanned the room quickly before her eyes rested on the baseball club she had bought last month at the New York Sports festival. She gathered all her courage and curled her trembling fingers around the club.

‘I can do this… Yeah! I am not a kid. I am twenty-eight years old, healthy and strong, and fit enough to take on a perpetrator if I face him with enough confidence.’

She decided to check the next room before concluding whether to fight or run away. Moving ahead like a cat on a prowl, taking one measured, and noiseless step at a time, she tiptoed out of her room to cross the entire length of the dark and quiet living room. Slowly, she unlatched the door of the room next to hers.

The wooden door swung open. Pia’s room was quiet and dark, as well. Deserted like a graveyard. There was nothing strange inside the room.

With her heart beating hard and eyes wide open, Mrinalini scanned the room once again. No one.

She took a deep breath and, after getting satisfied that there was nothing to be scared of, she returned to her room. Her dry, flaky lips were stretched and peeling. The upper part of both her shoulder blades ached, the muscles between them stiffened, and an excruciating pain shot down her spine.

She sat down on her bed, rubbing her palms together to ward off the chill. The more she tried to get over these terrifying experiences, the more they seemed to grip her. She was aware that baseless creepy encounters like these were not normal, but they seemed to be rising these past few days.

Just yesterday, she had a weird experience in her swanky cabin at the prestigious Manhattan City Hospital, where she worked. She had been immersed in a medical journal—’Recent Advances in Diagnosis and Management of Psychiatric Disorders.’ Intricacies of the human brain and their management were interesting as well as draining to read. She enjoyed reading when she was not attending her patients. Often her mind drifted from the article to one patient or the other and then towards the window in her cabin.

The view from the glass window right over a busy street reflected the spirit of the city buzzing with activity in the morning office hours. Inside her cabin, which was twenty floors above the ground, she was supposed to keep a farce of calmness as a key to her psychiatry clinic practice.

She remembered asking her assistant, Irina, to get coffee for her. After finishing a long article on Schizophrenia, she pressed the buzzer again.

“Yes, doctor?” Irina, the tall, soft-spoken assistant with a desk right outside Mrinalini’s cabin, zoomed inside and straightened her spectacles to set them neatly on her crooked nose.

“Irina, I had asked for coffee,” Mrinalini reminded Irina, raising her brows.

Irina straightened her spectacles again, frowned, and replied, “Doctor, I did serve coffee to you.”

“No.” Mrinalini shook her head confidently. What Irina was saying was unbelievable. She must be mistaken.

“Yes, doctor.” Irina was firm.

Mrinalini’s favourite coffee mug, a black ceramic mug with an overlay of a guitar with musical notes in the background, stood neglected on one corner of her desk. She grasped it. It was cold and empty.

“You mean to say that you served coffee, and I consumed it?”

Irina shrugged and said, “I think so.”

“That’s impossible. When did you keep this mug here?”

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

Mrinalini peered inside the mug. The black bottom displayed faint streaks of dried leftover coffee. She raised it and sniffed to smell it. The fragrance of freshly brewed dark coffee was trapped inside the mug.

It was inexplicable. Bizarre, at best.

Mrinalini scraped the interiors of her mouth to let her tongue taste the remnants of coffee, if any. She even gulped a huge bout of saliva in an effort to remember the flavour of the coffee.

When a lot of time had passed thinking about coffee – a hot, freshly brewed mug of African Blue coffee with a magnificent aroma, creamy texture, and bitter-sweet taste – coupled with a visual and the smell of coffee inside the mug, it was enough to create an illusion. She could now taste it inside her mouth.

‘Nothing is more frustrating than reality and imagination warring with each other. Is it possible that I finished an entire mug of hot coffee and didn’t even register it in my brain?

Apparently, it is.’

Irina hesitated but finally spoke, “These confusion spells have been increasing for you.”

Mrinalini was aware of this. She didn’t need someone else to point it out for her. It had occurred for the third time in a row this month. A few days ago, she had completely forgotten about a meeting with a client even after being reminded by Irina. A week before that, she had failed to locate her car in the basement parking of the hospital building. She had filed a police complaint of theft, only to find on her desk the parking slip from the neighbouring building. Her car was found safely parked in the building next to the hospital.

Mortified at yet another incidence proving her absent-mindedness, she dismissed Irina with a subtle move of her neck. This was added to the list of incidents of confusion and forgetfulness, raising the count every few days.

She was aware that none of these could be assigned to normal behaviour. It felt as if she was living on two levels. One, over the surface – for the world to see. The other, at a deeper level – unknown to anybody. Gradually, she was losing connection with both.

During some days, she struggled with undefined sensations throughout her body, not triggered by any valid stimuli. While most nights, nightmares and creepy sounds kept her awake. She couldn’t sleep fearing the prototypical ‘demons under the bed’ and ‘monsters around the window.’ It was getting scary every day.

This one night was particularly daunting. Eerie sounds coming from Pia’s room didn’t stop till 4:00 am. She knew that the room was empty – she had checked it.

Still, the noises intensified for her even when she was ducked inside the quilt, with her eyes closed tightly.

*

Morning arrived with a terrible headache for her. Mrinalini fixed her earplugs, scrolled through her phone for her favourite music by Rudra Raghuvanshi, and geared up for a jog.

It was a breezy morning, and the sun wasn’t really kind to New Yorkers in this season.

Mrinalini jogged for a long time, hearing the mystifying silence beneath the loud buzz. The city was now waking up and rattling to activity. She loved this paradox of how the tranquillity of outer noise silenced every inner clamour. Hectic, mundane routine holds power to drown every stress into obscurity.

What was happening to her? She didn’t know.

It was a long road, and she had to tread alone, with no prior experience or guidance. Judging every experience against your apprehensions and prejudice was not easy. She knew the path ahead was dark and scary, but this was a point of no return.

A long jog relaxed her. But peace was only short-lived.

On her way back home, she noticed a figure, weirdly familiar, jogging past her at a fast pace. The guy was wearing a black hoodie, with red and grey stripes over the shoulders, and a large ‘R’ embroidered in red on the back.

Mrinalini stopped. Stunned and tongue-tied.She turned around immediately, but the guy had disappeared by then. She was sure that she saw the hoodie and the man who dashed away in the opposite direction. But he had disappeared. All she could see, now, was a crowd of joggers.

 ‘Was it my imagination? Or an illusion?!’

It must be so.

‘This’ hoodie was the last thing she had expected to see in New York. The last thing she hoped to see ever again in her life. This hoodie was no ordinary hoodie. It belonged to someone important.

 ‘What was ‘he’ doing in New York?’

‘No, it was an illusion.’ She corrected her mind and took confused steps backwards. Once again, she looked all around the arena, carefully observing the surroundings. He was nowhere.

 ‘What am I thinking? No, it wasn’t ‘him.’’

 A similar confusion had gripped her nearly two weeks ago. She had been to a cinema hall – to watch ‘Deadpool’ with Pia – when on her way to buy popcorns, she had spotted a tall guy leaving the lounge. He was wearing the same black hoodie. She remembered leaving the popcorns and the movie to follow him, almost running beyond the exit gate towards the road, but she missed him. When she reached the road, she found it empty. A sudden chill ran down her spine.

Such black hoodies were common, she often argued with herself. But what about the embroidered ‘R’ in red. It was custom-made for one man.

Rudra Raghuvanshi.

***

Buy The Masquerade here – https://amzn.to/2DbbKNR

Read Chapter 2

The Masquerade: Sample Chapter 2

 

So, I have been posting on Instagram and Twitter since morning. But I know that a lot of you are not on Insta and Twitter and some too busy to check either, so this is the place that I have to share all my excitement, happiness, nervousness, and gratitude!!

I was not expecting this and I am too shocked.

I have been told that my book The Masquerade is a Bestseller in its category!! 💃💃🥂🥂✨✨

Since most of you are buying an ebook and to be honest, I am asking everyone to do that – it is a Bestseller in PAID KINDLE STORES.

 

 

 

 

Thank you… Thank you… Thank you… To All Of You!!! 

I have always said that a writer’s journey is incomplete without the readers and each one of you is responsible for this success. So thanks again

Reviews – Initial reviews at Amazon and Goodreads have been very encouraging. Thanks for that as well. A lot of readers got VERY excited. So my day today was spent in messaging people, asking them to delete tweets and posts discussing the spoilers and plot twists 🙈😅😅 Please please don’t do that.

I know that a lot of people want to discuss the book, the characters, the story with me. We will do that soon. Here. In a chat session. But not now. Let some time pass. It is getting increasingly difficult to reply to everyone though I have tried to reply to most of you on Instagram and Twitter, I haven’t been able to read the hundreds of emails that I have received. And messages at other sites. I apologize.

My family, my doctor friends, esp the ones from college, my relatives, my school friends , etc never knew that I write and this book has been a BIG Shock 😅🙈 and pleasant surprise for them ✨
I didn’t want to create a noise for nothing. I wanted to show the results. And they are literally astounded 😀😀

So, the last few days have been spent talking to relatives, friends, school friends and telling them about the book. Posting about a book, posting marketing material, replying to people, tracking launch for everyone, every country, managing other big and small technical things is a big task and I like to share every small thing here.

Now, if someone asks me about the BEB update, I will assume that neither did you read what I wrote above nor you care 🙄

Anyway, I have asked my father to randomly pick up 25 names for the Giveaway!
Please wait for tomorrow morning and I will announce the winners.

All those who have already read the book, please try to leave reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. It will help me and the new readers.

And PLEASE NO SPOILERS — Nowhere!!
Not even here. Early in the morning, I woke up and deleted Madhavi’s excited tweets full of spoilers 😂😂
I know you guys are all very excited. But please have some mercy on me 🙈🙏

Also, like I said – after some time, we will discuss the book, characters and I will write a nice, long update with a glimpse in RuNi’s future (Madhavi’s request)

Okay bye now.

Take care. lots of love.

Remember – No spoilers please!!!! 🙏🙏🙏😂😂

Love you loads. Stay safe. Stay happy.

M.

 

Hey friends,

Thank you so much for the tremendous, amazing response to my debut novel The Masquerade which is now available on major e-portals for both national and international distribution.

I have posted the links on the official page of the book – http://www.manitav.net

Two things that I wanted to tell here were —

Buy Ebook if you do – Reason – It is Quick, easy, safer option as per COVID 19 scenario and pocket friendly

A few minutes back, Amazon has just given a 30% off on ebook for a few days – So ebook that was 190 Rs is now 133 Rs only. So, it is the right time to buy with no pressure on the pocket and scare of the corona.

I just saw that and came here, as I wanted to inform you. Please don’t spend on paperback as they are very costly right now. 1. The Book is bulky – 498 pages so Amazon doesn’t allow listing for a less price, no matter how hard I tried. 2. COVID 19 scare is making them take extra efforts to sanitize and deliver in difficult areas.

All those who have already bought – please, please, please leave a review on Amazon/ or Goodreads (without spoilers 😋😅) So that new readers who don’t know me and not sure whether to buy are convinced that they should read it.

Baaki – I have been really busy in the last 2 days. receiving calls, messages from friends, family, relatives, and all over… and I am trying my best to reply…

The response, the early reviews, the feedback have been so so so ah-mazinggg!!! Thank you!!
I was nervous as it is the first book in novel format.

It was even listed as Hot New Releases at Amazon. Not many first time authors open there. I feel privileged and blessed to even be with my favourite authors that I have always read and admired, all my life.

So you can see how I am feeling right now —

So, go buy the book as long as the discount lasts — and let me know how you felt…

How to Get ebook – 

Go to Play store
Download Kindle – It is a FREE App
Type The Masquerade Manita V there
Pay for ebook
It will be downloaded in your phone/tablet etc

Someone told me that Kindle is not available in some countries

They can get the book with same procedure at Google Play Store

Also, it is on KOBO and ibooks

Thank you again… Nothing would have been possible without the love and support of You All…

Love you, LOADS!!!!

Stay Blessed

Take care

love you all.

M

PS – AND PLEASE PLEASE NO SPOILERS ON REVIEWS OR HERE 🙏😅

Hey All,

Thank you and love you – each and every one of you – for standing by me through thick and thin. This book wouldn’t have been possible without the constant support and motivation of all of you, friends and readers, who promise to read everything I write, give feedback, and help me improve my skills.

Launching The Cover of The Masquerade with All Of You.

And Slight Changes – Just Got to Know from the publisher that it will come by July 15th. So please note the new date.

Also…

Launching the OFFICIAL PAGE with More Details and Information on FREE BOOK GIVEAWAY

Click here – OFFICIAL PAGE

Once Again, love you, and thank you from the deepest corner of my heart.

Stay blessed.

Manita.

……………………………

 

Hello People,

Thank you for the tremendous response to my previous teasers. It really really means a lot since I am just doing my bit to spread around a word about my book.

To all those, who think they have read Twisted Minds on wattpad – there is a surprise – The book didn’t end there and it was only 3/4th on wattpad. The Masquerade is different in many ways along with several twists near the end, which no one knows about. So, a lot to look forward to 😀

The last week’s question was easy again –
Q. In my story Spark & Spice, which city of Switzerland do Manik and Nandini visit first as professionals from a fashion house??
A. Lucerne 

One lucky winner randomly picked up by my older one is –

Rosann

Congratulations dear. Please use the contact form to send me your contact details.

This week’s question is –

Q. How many masks have I used in all the teasers of The Masquerade? You have to write the total number.

This week’s video is based on the mysteries and mysterious people around us that is the crux of the story – all faces are actually only the masks around us! 

Hello everyone,

It’s another Sunday – A day that belongs to The Masquerade

Thank you for your response to the teasers. I have to admit that I love making these teasers. They keep me connected to the world of The Masquerade – The world of Rudra and Mrinalini. 2-3 more small teasers and then I will share longer trailers. Glad that you liked them. I just hope that my book justifies the aura created by these videos.

The answer for last week’s question –

Q. When did I start writing full-fledged novels and posting them on online platforms.

A- 2010

My first novel was on a blog with 3 readers, started in Feb 2010 and for six months I wrote a story for those 3 friends. After that I joined India Forums and started writing with Shantanu & Khanak as my lead characters. My readership rose to a few hundreds. When the stories were being plagiarised, the show ended too, people moved on, IF was no more a safe place, I shifted to private blogs on BlogSpot in 2013 and again wrote some random stories for 20-25 readers who were my regular and loyal readers. They are in touch with me even now. In 2017, I joined Wattpad and wrote my first MaNan story – Fire & Ice.

The winner for this week’s question, chosen by my papa randomly is –

Haripriyaax_

Congratulations dear. Please use the contact form and send me your address and contact details so that I can send the book when it is published.

For others – Once again, thank you for participating. Many more books, I plan to give away 😀

This week’s question –

Q. In my story Spark & Spice, which city of Switzerland do MaNan visit first as professionals from a fashion house??

I’ll ask my older one to randomly choose a name from all correct answers.

Thanks again.

This week’s video is about the city of Cremona, Italy – where the story – The Masquerade is based. When I started writing it on Wattpad, the city was Verona, Italy. But it has been used and abused so much, since then, that I decided to change it 🙂

Do take a look and share 🙂

 

have a great Sunday… love you all…

Hello everyone,

As I have already warned you before – Sundays are my shameless promotion days. Rest of the days, I try not to bug people with my promos but Sundays are The Masquerade days 😀

So, I am here again — This is the second teaser of the book- It’s about the female protagonist – Dr. Mrinalini Sengupta.

The book will be released this April. Till then, I am generating some buzz through my Sunday teasers, which will be followed by trailers 🙂

The response to the Rudra teaser was phenomenal – so many replies on the contest question- 119 here and some on Youtube too!!
And So many views on youtube…!!! Thank you so much. I’m glad that you loved that teaser.

The question that I had asked last week was too easy 😀 as it was the first question. Almost everyone replied correctly. Only a few got confused. But never mind, the competition was tough.

Q. Which was the first book that I uploaded on WordPress blog?

A. Tangles & Ties. (It isn’t completed yet, but an incomplete book is also a book – it is an ongoing book… some thought that I asked about the completed book. That was Spark & Spice. But the answer to this question is T & T )

Because there were almost all the correct answer and there were so many people, so I asked my mom to pick up 2 random winners out of all the correct answers. Those 2 lucky ones who get my book this week are –

Tanvie Sharma
Bidisha Mohanty

Congratulations to both! Please use the contact form on the Homepage of this blog to send your addresses and contact numbers. You will get the book once it is published and released.

To everyone else, thank you for participating. Still around 8 weeks to go… and many giveaways to participate… wish you all the best!

This week’s question is –
In which year did I start writing full-fledged fiction books on different online platforms? Take a guess if you don’t know. Options –
1. 2008
2. 2009
3. 2010
4. 2011 

The correct answer will be given with next teaser on coming Sunday. The next teaser will be about the location where this story is based. It is said that a location is as much a protagonist as the other characters are. And in my stories, I give a very special place to locations.
One random winner out of all correct answers will be picked by my papa 🙂

Teaser 2: Dr. Mrinalini Sengupta

 

love you everyone

Do take a guess about my writing journey… you never know you may win a book 😀 😀

 

 

 

Hello Everyone,

As announced previously, I’m here with my Teaser 1: Rudra Raghuvanshi: The Masquerade

Please watch this teaser – It is posted on Youtube on my channel – Manita V

Please share it with your friends and close ones. It’s like my baby taking his first steps into the unknown world –

The question for today is — 

Which was the first book that I uploaded on this blog on WordPress? 
Name it. 

From all those who reply correctly – One person randomly will be chosen by my mom 😀
(Not giving the judges seat to any of you, or me… so that there is no bias)

Please watch, share, like the video and subscribe to my channel on youtube –

 

Love you people

Take care… stay blessed… stay happy…

#TheMasquerade
#RuNi
#ManitaV

Hello everyone,

This is what I meant when I said that I will be posting some announcements regarding The Masquerade.

As you all know, *The Masquerade* is my debut novel and I am very very very nervous as I am excited for this project. I wrote it for 4 months and and edited it for 1 year. It saw all hardships, ups and downs with me and I’m still not sure if I have done even a half-decent job with it.

I hope you all are with me in this little step towards my dreams.

I wanted to start promoting the book on 14th February. So I am making a few announcements –

~ I am posting a small teaser announcing the book. I did that one year back too but it got delayed. So, I made a new teaser 😀

~ I wish to promote it through a series of teasers and trailers. So, watch out for teasers and trailers every Sunday morning, around 10-11 am.
The first one will feature Rudra Raghuvanshi, our star.

~ Along with teasers and trailers, I will write something about the book here as well – As blogposts.

~ Now – The Catch — I will ask questions with each teaser and trailer and the blogposts — The best answers will be picked up by judges among us only ( Not me 🙂 ) So that it remains unbiased. And every week, I will announce 2 people ( one from the teaser and one from the blogpost) — They will get the book as a gift from me.
So, please watch the trailers and teasers…
Please subscribe to my youtube channel and share the small 20-30 second videos with friends and known people…
Please, please, please… 😀 😀

~ I have planned several giveaways too… so apart from beta readers, I hope to give 20 -25 books more as that is what we get from publishers and instead of giving it to relatives who don’t read, I wish to share them with my friends here 😀

I wish I could give a book to ALL of you. But that is technically not possible 🙂
Hope to see you all participating 🙂

watch out for this announcement teaser – Main teasers start from this Sunday 16.02.2020… you can subscribe in the mean time 🙂

 

Love you all

Thank you

………………………………………..

This was my 2nd post for tonight. I am still writing Tangles & Ties: Part 102. I don’t want to do a shabby job by doing it fast… so have patience… read it tomorrow 🙂

Hello lovely people,

Apologies for the delay…

It has been an overwhelming time… I started reading the book all over again because I am really nervous and jittery… I hope I haven’t spoiled it 😀

Thank you for the response to the post for inviting beta-readers.

There were total of 205 people (WHOA!!!!) who volunteered
( 148 here + 57 at my mailbox, DMs and twitter, who could not post here)

I am announcing the 10 beta readers today!

 First thing First — I DID NOT CHOOSE!!!

You ALL are my favourites… and I love each one of you for being here… whether we are in touch or not… I cannot pick my favourites out of a huge bunch of adorable readers who have always, always supported me and loved my stories. It means a lot to me that you followed me from Wattpad to here and are willing to read my stories despite my erratic schedules, frequent removal of stories and some, or the other issue happening.

I feel blessed. And, I feel privileged.

This is what I did — I entered all the received names in MS Excel and reshuffled them. ( Trust Librans to be impartial 😀 I am one!!)

First 10 names from a randomly created list of 205 are as follows 

1. Pushpita Das (pdasonethree)
2. dhonu999
3. Akriti (Pia Tiwari)
4. Tanya Garg
5. Madhavi Latha
6. Anchal_08
7. Samsaudade
8. Mridula Vashishth
9. Ramya Sundaram
10. Angeleverr

All of you — Please let me know if you are available this week… and will be able to read a book of around 380 pages and answer 10 simple questions about the characters, flow, narrative etc. If you are not able to do it, please let me know so that I give it to the next in line.

If you can, please send me your Full name, email id, postal address, phone number using the form below so that I can send you the book.

All the others, who didn’t make it to the list, hugs for you… thank you for participating.

If it was up to me, I would have sent one book to each one of you …

Hugs and lots of love,

M.

………………………………

The form —

As promised, I’m here with the first installment of the journey of how my first book  came into shape.

It makes me emotional as this book – *The Masquerade* – is very special to me, very precious for several reasons – One, it is my first attempt in a genre that adds mystery and thriller elements to a love story. It’s less of discussions and more of action. Two, it is my first book that I am not writing and posting only for an internet audience. It will be published in paperback.

It was completed and edited several times in the last year. Yes, it took that long. I will write down about the editing process in detail and how I added the content, deleted some parts, reduced word count, etc. and after every editing attempt, I thought it was done.

Just last month, at the end of December, I declared it finished and called for invites from some people who are willing to read it before everyone else i.e. beta readers. ( I will announce them soon)

But the fact is that the moment, I was making it into a document to be sent to the beta readers, I wanted to read it again and found so much to change. Like always!!
And to be honest, there is no end to it. You can go on editing and polishing a document forever… but that is not how it should be…

Just like life… There comes one point where we need to leave things as they are…

And I guess, this is the point where I am prepared to leave the baby I have nurtured and nourished for 1 year and 4 months ( I wrote it for 4 months and edited 6 times for nearly a year)

I will post more about the book, the development process, the editing phases, the characters and the publishing in the next few segments of this section of my blog! Ask me if you have any questions. I will answer them.

Stay tuned!

Take care. Lots of love 😀

………………………………………

Do let me know if you are getting the notifications.

 

Hello dear readers,

It was long back, almost a year ago, when I had invited beta readers for The Masquerade – my debut novel. But then my book took multiple revisions, faced a lot of issues and after nearly 5 edits and deletions, it is now in shape of a novel.

Meanwhile, my readers got married, had babies, joined colleges and new courses, have exams, forgotten that such a book existed or maybe moved on… In short – I’m inviting beta readers all over again.

Last time, I had refused a lot of people if they were new to me… as I was suffering from aftermath of plagiarism and didn’t trust anyone. This time, I am allowing the computer to pick selected beta readers from all those who are willing to do it… and I will let you know the names here only —

This is how it goes — 

• 10 beta readers will be selected out of all those who comment on this post as ‘Me’ that’s it – just write ‘Me’ and your ‘wattpad id’ if any… so that I know who you are.
• You will be asked to provide your original email id, home address and phone number and a small declaration that you will keep the book safe and won’t leak it.
• You will be sent the book on your email address and you read it as per your convenience in a week’s time.
• You won’t be asked to edit or proofread as the book has been thoroughly edited, but if you find some glaring mistakes, do point it out with chapter number and page number.
• You will be asked to fill a small questionnaire that helps me decide if some parts are unclear or need any minor changes or whether the characters/ending /plot are justified. No detailed analysis required.
• After the book is released, leave an honest review on Amazon and goodreads.
• Please volunteer only if you can do this because I am giving it only to 10 people. If you don’t complete it, I will lose valuable feedback and another reader loses a chance.

What do you get?? ( Ahaaa…. That’s the fun part 😀 😀 )

• You get to read the book before everyone else 🙂
• You get an original signed copy of the book as a gift from me [ A token of gratitude ]
• Your name will be added in the acknowledgments section INSIDE the book.
• You get an invite to the launch of the book

So, all those who were beta readers previously also need to comment here as we are beginning the process all over agan.

Type away – ‘Me’ and ‘wattpad id’… and I will enter it in my computer jukebox to pick 10 names 😀 😀

………………………………………………………

EDITED:

I am closing the entries to this invite today. I ave received 131 entries and I will soon announce the names of Beta Readers. Thank you for everything.