What makes for an interesting read? That really is the essential puzzle.
Here are four critical questions that can help solve the puzzle:
1. Is a book about the story?
2. Is it about the plot and the sub-plots that explain the story?
3. Is it about the characters themselves and how memorable they are?
4. Is the book about the presentation of the story?
Writers and readers have their own take.
What do you think?
”Hello sir, this is Sweta this side.”
“Sorry, which side?”
“ Am I speaking to Mr. Bomma…Sai.…vadaaa…”
“No, I am not he. My name is vadhan”
”Sorry sir, do you own a house?”
“What’s that got to do with my name?”
“Sir, I am the Sweta speaking from ‘The Worst Real Estate Company Ever’. Are you like to buy the house?”
”Are I what?”
”We have the villa, the apartments and the floors.”
”Glad to know they have floors. Generally, they all do have floors, you know.”
”Who sir?”
”The villas and apartments and such.”
”Ok, sorry.”
”No, no. No need to be sorry. In fact you should be glad they have floors. Difficult to step in if there are no floors and only a void. Anyway, what’s all this have to do with me?”
”You want sir?”
”a floor?”
”Yes, we have different sizes.”
”How’s that possible. The floor should match the rest of the place. I mean, cant have a Villa with the floor slipping out from under its door. Or worse, if the floor is of a smaller size, how do I walk inside the villa?”
”Thank you for the interest in a floor.“
”I am not…listen, if I buy it, it has to be the whole place, can’t just buy the floor.“
”One minute sir, since you have the doubt, I will transfer to manager. The manager, he will explain all about floor.”
”What’s there to explain, its a floor.”
Too late. The music indicates the call’s on hold. It lasts a few seconds.
“Good morning Mr. Bomma….Vadaaa”
”Does no one know to pronounce a name?”
”Yes sir, my name is Rohit.”
”We have three levels of floors, first, second and third.”
”Just the floor? What about the rest of the building.”
”Sorry sir. First floor is 2BHK, second floor is 3 BHK and the third floor is 1 BHK
”Oh, an apartment!”
”No sir, floor.”
I am thoroughly confused.
”We also have apartments.“
”What‘s a floor and what’s an apartment?”
”Yes sir.”
”Eh?”
“You want independent floor or apartment?”
The light’s dawning. He meant an independent floor as opposed to an apartment in a high rise.
”Not interested. I already have a villa.”
”Ok sir. Sell your villa.”
”What, why?”
”Buy a floor or apartment.”
”I don’t want it.”
A moment of silence. ”One moment sir.”
On hold again. Same music. The girl comes back on the phone.
“You not like to speak to manager, ok. Sell villa?”
”No! I don‘t want to sell my villa?”
”What, sir. All this time we talk. Please buy something.”
”What!?”
“We give discount sir.”
”One moment.”
My turn.
I handed the phone over to my wife. Mistake.
Now I have to go see the floor.
“Song of the Trinity: The Rise of Kali” has been most elegantly crafted by Vadhan, a renowned Indian author. Vadhan has carved his niche in quality literature with his marvellous and breathtaking literary masterpieces. He is acknowledged today as one of India’s supremely sublime literary wits. “Song of The Trinity: The Rise of Kali” has emerged as an ambitious and captivating work that dwells on mythology, history, and political intrigue with a thrilling narrative.
As we flip through the pages of this literary classic, we get to know Kali’s loyal followers who exploit every crevice of weakness, plunging realms into disarray and creating a cacophony. An absolute sense of despondency and darkness prevails in every nook and cranny as the very foundations of existence crumble and worlds are laid to waste, villains reborn, and gods and mortals alike have to bear witness to their own destruction. The author seems deeply inspired by John Milton’s Epic “The Paradise lost”. The annihilation and destruction, which he so artistically and aesthetically depicts in this work, instantly evoke the memories of the most significant battle scenes from “The Paradise Lost” and how, in the wake of the horrendous war between the forces of Good and Evil, the ‘mighty’ evil has to languish in the dark dungeons of bottomless hell, perpetually doomed to perdition. An impending sense of doom and gloom begins to gnaw at the readers’ tender hearts, which consequently casts a pall of fathomless despair over all who dare to dream of survival. Reading these segments of the book, one is instantly reminded of the world of Thomas Hardly, where utter dejection rules the roost in which there is no space even for a speck of hope. Then comes a catalytic moment and a complete volt-face as in the face of several befuddling odds, a ray of hope is seen with a sense of great gratification.
From the deep shadows emerges a band of extraordinary individuals bound by fate and tormented by their curses. A cursed warrior, a unique demi-god, rises to the occasion, defying the entropic forces that otherwise pose a mighty threat to devour all. These individuals are the embodiments of powers as they muster up the courage to stand between the unspeakable evil and the universe’s existence. The members of this group, who take up cudgels, also personify the very idea of immense bravery, intense resilience, and indomitable spirit. From the cursed warrior burdened by an ancient curse to the enigmatic Demi-God possessing extraordinary abilities, the fiery sage driven by an unrelenting rage, and the extraterrestrial orphan thrown into an unfamiliar world, these characters form an unlikely but formidable alliance against the impending darkness. When we view the character construction through the spectacles of the great Greek Master Aristotle, we experience a great sense of satisfaction, as the author has maintained all the set standards about the art of characterization of an Epic.
Here, the fact cannot be refuted that the author has a commendable knack for the remarkable use of imagery. Such is the profundity of his images that readers feel as if they have been transported into a new realm; standing, they can witness the spectacle of the devastation of great magnitude where the villains are getting resurrected like a mythical bird of Phoenix who rises from his ashes. Imagism is, thus, one such literary device, the dexterous use of which enables the author to establish a strong chord with the readers and Vadhan, in this context, also deserves a plethora of admiration.
While deliberating on the language of a literary classic, Mathew Arnold is quite pertinently of the opinion that a sublime theme can only be expressed satisfactorily in an equally sublime language. Indubitably, the author seems in absolute agreement with Mathew Arnold as the language he chooses to unfold the various aspects of this extremely engaging narrative reveals the linguistic competence of its creator. The selection of morphological items, stylistics and diction is superbly splendiferous. Shorn of all the complexities of a pedantic scholar, each line exudes like a sounding cataract directly from the author’s heart. On top of it, flawless collocations and constructions elevate the book to the lofty stature of a great modern literary classic that is bound to tickle the fancy of all segments of the readers.
(The writer is an Internationally renowned literary critic who has reviewed more than 200 books for the best of Newspapers, Magazines and Journals)
You know, when I first thought of the day I would retire, it was some abstract thing. Like death. One day, it’s going to happen. One day. Some day. Not today, not tomorrow, not the day after. Not anytime soon. I didn’t know what to think of it, though I did think about it.
Now, I’ve started to think ABOUT it. You know. What all does it mean? What are the implications? Am I going to sit down on the front porch, possibly in a rocking chair, legs up on the wooden rails, a glass of lemonade at my side and with a book in my hand? Or Am I going to sit with a bunch of guys reminiscing about days gone by? Or both? Am I going to bore the hell out of my poor wife? Or be a jumpy old man who resents the fact that no one really wants to work with him?
Questions.
Well, I have worked my way from start ups to the big fours. I am an author (an accomplishment that I really think is above all else). What am I going to do with my skills after retirement.
And then it dawned on me. I liked the thought. Actually, a revelation, like the one you get when sitting under a banyan tree and you then go around telling everyone about it and hope someone has the bent of mind to listen.
Except it came to me when I was pondering at my home office desk. The desk is made of wood. Don’t know which tree it came from.
Really.
Retirement is when I get a bunch of money from cashing out my statutory savings. Period. It’s a good thing but to me it means nothing else. Everything else is the way it is. I am going to do the two things that mean the world to me. Regulatory Compliance services and writing thrillers. One doesn’t feed off the other. In fact, the both of them keep me vibrant, energetic and when I get tired of one, the other rejuvenates me.
So, now I know what retirement means. Rejuvenation. A new beginning to do the things I wanted to do without the shackles of worrying about the future, about sales and numbers and getting kicked out. It isn’t about the rat race anymore. Yay!
Live in the present. In the moment. All the time. Now why would anyone have any form of trepidation about that, I ask ya…
Its surprising how many people you find in this world ready to sink you with not a thought of how you helped them the float. It marvels me every time. It also horrifies me. I guess it is as good a reason as any on why I’ve lost all faith in humankind.
Rewind 50+ years earlier…
My father lived in this world for 28 years. In that limited time, he set standards for himself and for those around him that now, 50+ years after he is gone, people remember him with the respect and love he deserves. He died of a disease that had no cure back in the sixties. It’s called muscular dystrophy.
He started a cricket club a few years before he died when he was more boy than man. It is one of the oldest cricket clubs in the State of Andhra Pradesh and has been one of the founder members of the State’s Cricket Association. After my father’s passing away, owing to the fact that I was three months old, one of his ‘trusted’ friends was given management of the club by my father’s very young widow, to run and maintain the club until such time that he wanted to and then hand it over to me.
It should be mentioned here that this ‘trusted’ friend and his father came up to my father (who of course was a wealthy and titled gentleman), seeking livelihood. My father took them under his wing and then trained the boy to be a cricketer, a captain to his team and then the secretary of his club. This is important to note to understand what’s coming next.
Now, his son runs the club. By run, I mean, he sells the vote he gets to use for the election of the managing committee of the Andhra Cricket Association to the highest bidder during election time. I am told it fetches a tidy sum of money. All the laurels the club earned, of which I have photographs, trophies and shields, stopped with my father. When I stepped in to question this, after giving this blackguard a very long rope to straighten himself, he actually filed a case before the court stating that my father was never the founder of the club and that in fact I have no right to question him. He did not even know the hand that fed him nor did he care to acknowledge it.
And I say, no good deed goes unpunished. And bad deeds are generally fruitful. After all, its Kalyug, the last age. Yet, it never ceases to surprise me. I had helped a friend in need and he backstabbed me. My father helped a family thrive and they backstabbed him. I mean, the only good one can do for one’s self is for one’s self. Keep your loved ones happy, secure and together. That doesn’t guarantee a thing, I can give you personal examples of that too, but at least, they will stand by you when push comes to shove.
To end this story, I’ve picked up the gauntlet and I am going to do my damnest to get the club back and to conduct a cricket tournament within 15 months of winning the case. That’s a promise to Raja BSV Prasad from a son who doesn’t have a memory of him but would have loved to know him.
I watch. Is all I do.
The six Vyahritis of the Aditya and the six Pathaal of the Daitya
My story is not just of these worlds but all of it.
All of it!
The song is strange but it’s notes are strong
But, for how long? How long!
The locks of the song, are they strong? Do they rattle?
Even the Primordials as also the Guardians, are they corrupt?
Tis a tale of this, our last age,
Of all things decaying, all things…dulling…
Will be upon you. Upon us! You should know it…
About this strange song, and its terrible occupant
and his rending…
I watch. Is not all I do
I lied. I did!
I chronicled the Song’s tale with me pen
dipped in battlefield red, upon flayed skin
of martyred misfits!
#authorindianwritingcomedyfictionbookswriterinstawriterreadersofinstagramgoodreads #fantasyfiction #fictionwriters #Mythology
English writing Indian authors are growing in numbers. More specifically, the ones that write fiction. But does that mean their readership is growing? Not friends, family and wellwishers who pick up their books. I mean, for a want of a better word, an ‘unbiased reader’. Or is the Said unbiased reader simply buying only his favourite authors? Who are the English writing Indian authors completing with?
Let’s get some analysis done. India is the world’s second largest book market. How is this market divided? Mostly, it is text books used in schools. Then comes the non-fiction, which could be self help books, management, spiritual and the like. Between them, they occupy 75% of the market. Then there is fiction. Even in fiction it is shared between vernacular and English fiction writers.
Therefore, the English writing Indian authors of fiction occupy a minuscule part of the market. So, are they competing with the text books? Or non-fiction authors? Or with vernacular fiction? The answer, in my opinion, will have to be an emphatic No!
Each of these markets are clearly divided. A person who reads vernacular will not suddenly switch over to English fiction. He/ she will never be comfortable with it. I have colleagues who force themselves to read English fiction just to improve their English. And I am speaking of people working in organisations like the big four.
So, are English writing Indian authors competing with themselves? To an extent, yes. But, only to an extent. There are, say, five or six authors who are ruling the roost in India in the fiction genre. They were the early birds. The guys with the foresight. Or the ones who paved the road for commercial writing in this country. We have to be grateful to them at one level. They set the expectations.
But, in my opinion, they are not really the competition. The reason, there aren’t too many of them. A good author with competent writing skills and deep enough marketing budgets can successfully challenge the pioneers. There are ways to do that, but that’d be a different discussion for another day.
The real competition for English writing Indian authors are the international authors. The highly successful ones that sell a book every nine seconds on an average. The Indian reader would rather read those books. And why not? I do. In fact I recently read a fantasy novel that had me relishing every word of the rather massive book. Every word. Such was the skill of that wordsmith.
Our readers are our God and religion. And when our God and religion throws a favourable stance towards our international brethren, we are at a disadvantage. Many argue that Indian writers are ‘coming of age’, and the readership is ‘improving’. In my opinion, that’s neither here nor there. The real test is, can English writing Indian authors compete with international best selling authors book after book in THEIR market?
There are reasons we cannot do that. For one, the topics should interest international readers. But that isn’t really a challenge. If East European authors are worldwide best sellers (even after translation or when they write in English), there is no reason to think that Indian authors can fare any less. Then what really is the show stopper here. What should we do?
I can only offer an opinion. Starts with a Q and ends with a Y. All caps. Quality. We are a country of stories. I mean, 1600 languages, each with its own culture and each culture based on wonderful stories, we cannot fail. What we are failing at is presenting the stories.
The biggest possible hurdle facing an English writing Indian author today is self publishing. It is a curse upon us. A threat to our existence. Self-publishing leaves the entire editing process, quality, presentation and everything else to a novice writer, playing on his naïveté and vulnerabilities to spew out his greatest work of art without the appropriate pruning that it deserves.
There are other hurdles. A whole lot of them. If the lot of the Indian author as a whole should have any chances of growth and betterment, we must learn how to compete with the international authors and their quality of delivery. We must focus at out-beating the likes of Robert Ludlum, Lee Child, Stephen King and Dean R Koontz, R.R. Martin and P.G. Wodehouse. We need not all aspire to be a Shashi Tharoor, and we don’t have to be. What we should be is aware of our competition and equip ourselves to face it. That means, among other things, to improve the way we write.
Our publishing community should be ready to take chances with larger marketing budgets to challenge our international brethren both in India and in other markets. Can this be done? Yes, of course. Can we do it? I’ll leave you with that question.
Cheers,
Vadhan
This is a true story!
It’s my story!
My first book, Shatru, was published in the year 2014. Two years later I cancelled the contract with the publisher and unequivocally told them not to sell my books. I also revoked my copyright. They accepted the same by an email. Even today the book is out in the market and they are making money out of it. I haven’t been paid a dime till date.
Legal action aside, there is little else I can do. I have no forum to represent me as an author. Nowhere to turn to. The fact that my subsequent work has done well is only acting in favour of the unscrupulous publisher who is till date making money at my expense.
This is a common story for authors in India. There are tons of such stories of exploitation and abuse. Be it adaptation rights, copyright, marketing, revenue, script writing, the actual storyteller is lost in translation. Ironic! A shame!
Authors for authors is an initiative by a group of us on a platform called the Indian Literary Society. Our aim is to be a support system to discerning authors. To help the lot of the Indian author, whether it is in English or vernacular. To guide, mentor, tutor, train and support.
Would love to hear from all of you. The point is to make it bigger, better and fairer for authors and for their readers.
Love,
Vadhan
21/09/2021
There was this guy, right? There was this guy. Nice guy on the face of it. Cool. Tall, dark, not necessarily handsome any which way you look at it. Still. He thought he was handsome. People are entitled to image themselves. Why not? Who’s anyone to say anything against it.
He was educated. Sure. He had the ability to be pleasant. Only thing with this guy was, he was brought up thinking he was a loser. How? He was made to play a sport he could never win. Just didn’t have the gumption for it. He was a good sparring partner though, for all the winners. He saw them come and go, carrying their laurels with them. He could never win any laurels. At least not those that really mattered. It became ingrained in him that he couldn’t win.
Now, this guy, right? This guy gets a great job in a great law firm. A year later he quits the job! Why? He wants to be in the movie business. Was that why he quit. I wish it was!
He thinks all the people around him are idiots. He was surprised when the law firm asked him to leave because they felt he wasn’t performing, grinding in the feeling that he was a loser. Why didn’t he perform? He was working on a job while dreaming about movie making. Neither here…nor there!
He joined another firm. same result. He joined a third firm. same result. He was surrounded by success. his contemporaries were rising. His seniors were rising higher. His friends were topping the charts. He wasn’t. Why?
His dreams of making movies persisted, but without effort there is no result. Right? Try telling that to this guy. God knows I did. I said, “If you keep doing the same thing over and over again and expect something different, it ain’t gonna happen!” Did he listen?
Ha!
Then an idea struck this guy. He would start out on his own. He wouldn’t be judged by anyone. He wouldn’t be pushed down by anyone. He would be his own master. I thought it was a bad idea. He was steadfast. He had seen his contemporaries strike out on their own. He saw them buying fast cars and drink expensive liquor.
His work did not meet expectations. His clients did not go back to him for their work. His view of the world changed. He felt everyone was out to get him. His dislike for successful people was exponential. I saw his character metamorphize into a thing of frustration and rage. Like bile rising from the depths of hell.
He saw no difference between friend and foe. He continued to dream of making movies. Or directing them. Did nothing about it. The reason…what if he failed?
So, he told himself he had responsibilities to his family. Was he actually fulfilling them. No. Why? He couldn’t meet his own ends.
He felt he was a good legal professional. Was he? No, because instead of seeing his clients as his source of livelihood, he saw them as worrisome bigots who did not recognize his greatness. He would foul mouth them. Not answer their calls. And overbill them. Especially rich old ladies. He would do this with his sob stories about getting his sister married and supporting his ailing parents.
This guy, right? he was lost in a hell of his own making. I knew this guy. I was once his friend and well-wisher. And now, I am trying to yank out the knife he embedded deep into my back.
This guy, right? This guy, beware of him…
This is the concluding part of my article, Ten Years-Two Days. While the first part was about how I turned to writing and got my first book published, this part is about the journey thereafter. Which I think is as important. Because boarding the train is only the beginning. The destination doesn’t matter. this way or that. It is the journey that counts.
It was a choppy start. I was a new author. None of the methods that I adopted to promote my book worked. Or worked as well as I would have thought. Honestly.
The online messaging was lost in transit. the offline messaging was lost. Period. I had started with publishing the prequel to my magnum opus. Which, I think isn’t the wisest thing to do when its your debut book. Not unless you have oodles of cash and way more influence than I had at that point. I was jumping gun. From the last to the first step. I fell. It wasn’t a disaster. But it was a thin line. It hurt. I had bitten more than I could chew and was left choking.
Still, here is a feedback I got from a reader last year about Shatru.
“An amazing book, world building is at par with the biggest western fantasy books, Waiting for the next part.” This was in 2019, four years after Shatru, my first book, came into the world. It filled my world with joy!
“Awesome and superb story telling. Gives goosebumps” this was in 2020. There have been many reviews in between. Not as many as I would have liked. But still, I am glad for what I have been given.
Even the cover image I added here is a fan made poster of the book!
To move on, my second book, which was actually multi-genre including political, thriller, horror, etc was well received. I was able to turn it around thanks to my literary agent, Suhail Mathur.
My third book is being made into a movie. A Bollywood movie. The jewel in the crown, the icing on the cake, etc, thus far.
And now, within two days of circulating the manuscript for my fourth book, my publisher has picked it up. Thus, looking back at my journey which started with writing my first book when I was twelve, completing it years later to now when I am a sale-able author, I am truly humbled and thrilled. It took ten years from the time I completed the manuscript to eventually publish Shatru. It took two days from the date of completion of manuscript to sign the contract for my fourth book. (Announcement will be made shortly).
The journey might appear ordinary to others, but to me, this has been the most fulfilling, most exhilarating and one of the happiest journeys of my life.
Finally, as a writer, I came across many disappointments and pains. I faced rejections or snooty silence from publishers. I realize they were essential for my growth as a writer. they were more than essential. They were integral. And I stand here thanking all those rejections and failures for what they made out of me.
And the journey goes on…
Vadhan
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Vadhan
Author Of Best Selling Fantasy Books
