Finding True Love

Nishant ‘s name and image gets spoiled all because of his PR Reva leaking an recent cover photo which is quiet steamy over social media network. This changes his life forever and he cures the existence of I.N.T.E.R.N.E.T (The Great World Wide Web) . And now his fears of losing Saurabhi once again increases .One day after playing badminton , he goes to Saurabhi’s house to tell her the entire truth regarding this picture .
The moment he rings the bell , the door of her house opens immediately with Shantee Bai’s deadly and précising stare .
Who is it , Shantee Bai ?Saurabhi queers from her master bedroom where she is presently making a project for the neighbours son ‘Anmol’.
“It’s the same newspaper mein picture wale aadhmi”Shantee Bai replies and goes inside the kitchen to make pohe for them .
Saurabhi comes out the room with Anmol by giving him a series of instructions regarding the project which brings a smile on Nishant ‘s lips for a short time until he gets the same reaction from Anmol.
Looking at Nishant , Saurabhi smiling hugs him by greeting him “Good Morning Nish !”. Nishant is stunned by her behaviour and tries reading her thoughts .
“Come and Sit here Nish” she says by patting the dinning chair .Nishant goes towards her and vomits every happening in his life to her and by holding her hands he says “Please don’t leave me forever”
Saurabhi laughed at him and said “How can I leave you Mr .Celeb? ”My life long friend…….and don’t think my love for you will fade every passing year .
This makes him smile .
Nish , you know why I am not that Tech Savvy ? she enquires him.

Because a world without Internet is worthy and connected than a world connected to internet because then we will able to grow in every possible sense of perception and never lose respect .

Very Good ! Saurabhi exclaims and they take their pohe down stairs to the garden so that they have it by sitting on swing .As swing resembles the up and down of their lives .

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

With Lots of Hugs and Happiness,

Guest Post by Falguni Kothari

Though I  am  not feeling too well today due to monthly birthdays.It is my prime duty to welcome  each and every  guest who come  on  my blog ‘Feelgoodwithmeblog ’ .

So…..the guest who is going   to come here  is  Alisha of  Wordfreak, Divya of The Bootie and Beast and Quali of Soul Warrior .

Please clap your hands for Falguni Kothari ,Welcome to Feelgoodwithmeblog .


Over to you Falguni !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Why did you choose a mythological subject after writing two romantic novels?


I have always been a reader. I have always been an eclectic reader. And I read constantly. In school we read the classics and Shakespeare, Indian authors and poets. At home, I read for fun. Romance Mills and Boon-style, historical novels, thrillers and comics—all held me in thrall. I’ve read every single Amar Chitra Katha (Indian comic books) ever printed…many, many times. As popular in India as the Marvel and DC universes are in the rest of the world, ACKs are the perfect introduction to Indian mythology to a student. As I got older, I graduated to more serious books, fiction and non-fiction, written in English or translated works by writers of other Indian languages. Slowly, I realized just how deep and old India’s literature, mythology and history is. It fascinated me. As did the philosophy that seemed intertwined with the myths.


When I started writing some six years ago, and after I’d shocked myself by not only producing a manuscript within a year, but also managing to get a traditional publishing contract for my romance novel, I didn’t even have to think about my next project. (I began outlining Karna’s story while I was writing Bootie and the Beast.) I wanted to incorporate my favorite mythological characters in my fiction. My fascination with physics and philosophy, gods and demons, Hindu and Jain cosmology, of the concept of karma, had given me a stage and I wanted others to be as fascinated by it. I started writing—without thought and without a plot. I only knew I wanted the Gods to use cell phones and wear jeans. Most of all, I wanted to write about serious stuff in a light and humorous way. I wanted to blend the old and the new; the east and west. Just like my own life.


I was born in Mumbai, was raised there and only moved to NY after both my kids were born. I straddle two cultures, two homes and two lifestyles and I thought if I can do it seamlessly…how difficult or easy would change be for Karna and Draupadi. Only, I have them straddling Heaven and Earth; magic and technology instead of India and US and dhokla vs pasta. 🙂


In short, I wanted to tell an ancient story to a modern audience and I did it with Soul Warrior. As for romance, there is and always will be romance in all my books.




We learn the most from imperfect relationships- things like compassion ~ Andrea Thompson

Photo Credit :

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“We learn the most from imperfect relationships- things like compassion ~ Andrea Thompson ”Ender said  . ‘Do you want chai ’she asks him and goes  inside the kitchen  to make  a cuppa tea for herself. Suddenly she could feel his arms wrapping … Continue reading

Book Blitz of Vengeance

Designed by Neil D’Silva 
Vengeance –A Sting in Every Tale 
A WRIMO INDIA anthology
Edited by
Sonia Rao 
Disclaimer : All proceeds from the sale of this anthology will be donated to NaNoWriMo
Designed by Sujata Patnaik 
A reply to a perceived injustice can take many forms one of which is vengeance. An eye for an eye can only end up making the whole world blind, is what Mahatma Gandhi once said. And it seems to be coming quite true, if latest events world-wide are an indication.
Is there any hope or are we hurtling towards extinction?
Hopefully, the stories will explore some of these questions. But that is on the macro level. It might be easy to look at things objectively, in black and white, when it is other nations involved. Or even other people. We are able to be more forgiving of transgressions when they don’t involve us personally.
But how would one react if they found themselves in the maelstrom of situations that do fall somewhere in the grey area of life? With no definite black and white answers?
How would a jilted lover react in face of infidelity? Or how would a friend avenge the murder of her best friend? Or, is it fair to be punished for a crime that you were not brave enough to prevent?
These and many more questions connected to vengeance have been grappled with in this anthology.

created by Archana Sarat 
Bus number 131 whirred away, pulling its own weight unwillingly. It was one of the many buses to pass through the Relief road, a busy road in the old part of Ahmedabad. Shazia had an option, the crowed 88 or the overcrowded 131. She preferred to be 30 minutes before time to board 131. Her choice was motivated by her love for the palindromic 1-3-1. Her undying infatuation with prime numbers was inexplicable.Nineteen year old Shazia loved numbers, and to be more precise, she adored Mathematics in all its form. She also loved the rules, the principles, the working theorems, the equations which tried to make sense of the majestic menagerie of numbers. She was fascinated even by the mere shape of numbers. She did not remember when or even how her romance with Maths began. But in her earliest memories, she preferred practicing her numbers over the alphabet, she remembered that she recited tables better than her nursery rhymes.

She was short and a bit stocky. Also, a couple of shades darker than was acceptable in the marriage market. However, her looks never bothered her, nor did she ever yearn for fairer skin, or thinner body. What she craved was a disheveled mass of hair, for some uncanny resemblance to Einstein, the only pop icon modern science managed to have produced. But her mother plaited her hair, dashing her hopes to ground. She also longed for a pair of spectacles with glasses so thick that it blurred her eyeballs, indicating the wearer’s brilliance. But she, despite getting checked for vision from her mother’s ophthalmologist, was denied the hallowed implement. Thrice.

Shazia valued her bus ride a lot. She had to convince Papa to allow her to commute to her college on her own. She had concealed her indignation about needing her father’s permission for every little trifle, even after being categorised as an adult by the Government of India. Papa consented only after he was told that Noor too would start using the bus if Shazia were to give her company.

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The editor of the Anthology, Sonia Rao (writer-editor-awardwinningblogger) is the NaNoWriMo Municipal Liaison for All-India region. The stories which are part of the anthology are written by Wrimos homed in to Asia::India region. Most of them are also published writers of short fiction and novels.She blogs @ 
Find out more about Wrimo India @
Wrimo India on Twitter: 
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We Promote So That You Can Write 


Spotlight of Soul Warrior


Soul Warrior: Age of Kali 


Falguni Kothari
Fight fate, or succumb to destiny? 
In the dark Age of Kali, the Soul Warrior alone stands guard over the Human Realm, protecting its denizens from evil-willed asuras or demons. When a trick of fate appoints him guru to a motley crew of godlings, he agrees to train them as demon hunters against his better judgment. Suddenly, Lord Karna is not only battling the usual asuras with sinister agendas, but also rebellious students and a fault-ridden past. 
Spanning the cosmic realms of mythic India, here is a tale of a band of supernatural warriors who come together over a singular purpose: the salvation of Karna’s secret child. 
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Kuru Kshetra Battlefield. 
Day 17 of the Great Kuru War, seven thousand five hundred years ago.
Death is hot. 
That surprises me. I’d imagined death as cold and brutal. Merciless. But in truth, death is hot as blood, and constant like a heartbeat. 
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. My lifeblood ebbs to the rhythm. My head ripped from its torso by Anjalika, the arrow of death that burns even now with the energy of the sun. Struck from behind like some novice. Felled in battle by that lily-livered usurper the Heavens smile upon—Prince Arjun. Brother Arjun. 
What have I done?
I harness the thought. Cease all reflection and wrench free of my mortal body. I soar up, up into the gloaming, snapping the ties that tether me to life. Dead, I have no use for ties. 
“A matter of perspective, Karna, O son of my godsire.” The unearthly words strum through the air, and I quiver like a plucked bowstring, overcome as much by the voice as its blasphemous claim. “Bonds of devotion nourish the soul, brother.” 
There is that word again. Brother. Unpleasant laughter wells up in me. Alive, I am abandoned, denied my birthright—Celestial or royal. Death, it seems, changes everything. 
A bright, nebulous light brings forth Lord Yama, the God of Death, atop his divine mount. His elephantine thighs ripple beneath a silken dhoti, ochre and crimson of color, as he guides the mammoth water buffalo to a halt. An iron medallion sways against the God’s powerful cerulean torso, its center stone an ethereal blood orange. 
Hypnotic. Pulsing with life. I am drawn to the stone. 
“Piteous waste,” Lord Yama mutters, surveying the carnage of war far below us. 
I trace the trajectory of his gaze and behold the battered remains of my army drenched in the evidence of its mortality. Is it true? Have we died in vain? 
Words form inside me and I will them out. “Shall we go, my lord?”
 “Ha! Impatient to be judged, are you? Anxious to have your fate revealed?” asks the Judge of the Hell Realm. His red-black eyes burn with intelligence and compassion in a blue-tinged face that is long and lean and hard. “Rest easy, brother-warrior. You are not bound for the Great Courtroom.” 
Not bound for Hell? Where then? Fear has eluded me for so long that I take a moment to recognize it. A hollow-bellied feeling it is, as annoying as a bone stuck in my throat. 
“My lord, I have done bad deeds…terrible deeds in my life. I have waged wars, this horrendous bloodshed, and all because my pride could not—would not abide rejection. I have sinned. I must atone for my actions.”
Lord Yama smiles in a way I do not like. “You have redeemed yourself admirably, Karna. You forfeited your life for the greater good today. The deed far outweighs any misguided ones. Be at peace, brother, and enjoy the fruits of your karma.” 
There is but one place to enjoy such fruits—the Higher Worlds. 
I’d rather burn in Hell for eternity. I say so. “I won’t live amongst the Celestials.” Coexisting with the very souls who’ve spurned me is unthinkable. Watching her—for she would surely reside in Heaven soon—will be eternal torture. 
Yama shakes his head, the horns on his crown slashing to and fro. “I thought you might say that. Relax. Your destiny lies elsewhere.”
 “Am I to be reborn then? Am I to begin a new life, and forget the past?” Pain, sharp as a blade, lances through me at the thought. Forget my past? My family? Even her? Was that my punishment? To forget all that made me human?
It must be so. For have I not betrayed them as surely as I’ve betrayed my prince regent? 
“Human rebirth is not your destiny, either. You are chosen, brother. Your war skills are needed for a higher purpose.” The God slips off his mount, his garments rustling in agitation. “This unjust war has pushed the Cosmos to the vortex of a cataclysm. Tomorrow, the Kuru War will end. Fearing its outcome, the Celestials rolled the Die of Fate and have unwittingly bestowed on Demon Kali untold powers.” Lord Yama bares his fangs in disgust at the foolish gamble. “Imagine the havoc that asura and his minions will wreak on the weak if left unchecked. The Human Realm must be safeguarded during Kali’s dark reign.”
 I can imagine the horror only too well as I have battled with evil all my life. But I am done with wars. I am done with defeat. I won’t waste another lifetime fighting. 
“With due respect, my lord, I am not the man for this task.”
 “You are not a man at all,” Yama thunders, fists shaking. “You are the son of Surya, the Sun God. Accept that you are no ordinary soul.”
 I say nothing. I think nothing. I feel something but I squash it down. 
Lord Yama’s thick black brows draw together. “Demon Kali will try to pervade every particle of good that exists in the Cosmos, beginning with the corruptible Human Realm. Once he obliterates all of humanity, he’ll set his sights on the Celestials. Kali will not stop until he’s destroyed our way of life. But you can stop him. You are light to his darkness. Do you understand now why you had to betray him? Your beloved humans need you, Karna. I need you. Our father believes in you. Claim your rightful place in the Cosmos.”
 Impatiently, Lord Yama removes the iron medallion from his neck and holds it out. The vermillion sunstone glows as if its soul is on fire. Nay! It is my soul that is on fire. 
Indescribable energy curls through me. I gasp, though not in pain. I shudder and feel myself grow large, grow hot. Was this rebirth? 
I am strong, full-bodied and lethal once more. Then I roar as light bursts forth from my very core and I throb with glorious, blinding power. When I come to myself, my world has changed again. Bubbles of color shimmer all around me: cobalt and saffron, azure and rose. By karma! They are souls. Infinite floating souls.
“Behold the spectrum of life: the worthy, the notorious, the righteous and the sinners.” The God of Death’s soul was a worthy sapphire blue with a tinge of silver. “Your duty, should you choose to accept the office of the Soul Warrior, is to hunt down the red-souled asuras and crush them. Whatever you decide, I wish you a long and successful Celestial existence, Karna,” Yama booms out and vanishes into the purpling sky.
The parley has stunned me. The world of color holds me in thrall. I was dead. Yet, now I am not. A new path lies before me. Unwanted, unwelcome, I insist on principle. I close my eyes. Open them to stare at the medallion cupped in my hand—a golden-hued hand at once familiar and not—and know myself for a fool. I do want this. It’s what I am. 
Bastard-born. Rebel. Son. Husband. Father. Warlord. And protector. I fist the talisman, buoyed by its concrete warmth. This is who I am. 
I am the Soul Warrior.


About the Author  
Falguni Kothari is a New York-based hybrid author, and an amateur Latin and Ballroom dance silver medalist with a semi-professional background in Indian Classical dance. She writes in a variety of genres sewn together by the colorful and cultural threads of her South Asian heritage and expat experiences. She is published in India in contemporary fiction with global e-book availability, and launches her mythic fantasy series, the Age of Kali, with SOUL WARRIOR. When not writing, dancing or being a domestic goddess, she fools around on all manner of social media, and loves to connect with readers.

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