If wishes were horses...

By
Image Source: creativityaustralia.org.au
Life is all about wishes. We wish for something and we get something else, only to realise that perhaps we were wishing for this more than what we thought we were. If you have been following my blog since inception (Ah! That sounds so technical!) But you get the sense of it right? If you have been here for a while you will know that I have had my own share of 'claim to fame' moments when I got published in anthologies and then ofcourse my solo collection Metro Diaries 1 & 2. After that of course things have been quiet for the longest now and honestly, I have no clue when I will have something huge to announce. THAT is actually the reason behind this post.

Since 2015 I have been working on my solo novel and successfully managed to complete 1.5 out of the 3 I have been dabbling with on and off. I have faced numerous rejections for the one that I have completed, more so because the publishers feel it is something extremely unheard of and hence will not sell. I will not be lying if I say I almost gave up on it and moved ahead to complete my next. Not out of dejection but because I understand what they are saying does have some merit in it. 

Recently while submitting the manuscript to yet another publisher, I came across a very unique criteria for submissions.  They wanted us to design our cover pages, could be hand made, painted or simple images but they wanted to see how we saw the book as, that is, if it got published. While designing that cover, I realised, how badly I believed in this book and how much I wanted it to see the daylight. 

So here I am, using this platform to put it out in the Universe as my wish. I want this book to be published in next three years and I want it to make a difference in someone's life, give them hope and remind them how beautiful it is to be alive. (**Amen**)


This is how I have imagined my cover to be and the blurb:

Laze on the sunny beaches of Australia, rediscover history in those ruins of Agra, drown your worries at the Varanasi Ghats or get lost in the endless roads of Pangong Lake – this book promises to infect you with an incurable wanderlust. Sprinkled with liberal doses of real life incidences and stories these pages capture the real magic of a place through its people in the perfect manner Be it the old man climbing the Sydney Eye at the age of 80 or the lonesome kid at Nubra Valley they promise to redefine life like never before. Fasten your seatbelts as you embark on a journey of a lifetime with The Lost Wanderer where the greys of life are accentuated to create the most spectacular silhouette to warm your insides. 

Can I have an Amen to this wish of mine?

Popular posts from this blog

Diary of a Lost Wanderer - Lost & Found

By
Image
Dear Diary, I fell in love with Mumbai when I first visited it in 1995. Bombay, as it was then known, fascinated me since then.  If you ask me what made me fall in love with this city, I perhaps cannot explain. It wasn't that I was seeing the sea for the first time. It wasn't even the biggest city I had been to till then. Still, there was something so magical about this place. The trip was a short one lasting less than a week but this city now had my heart. Years later, I arrived here all alone on my first solo trip in 2005 and fell in love all over again. I got my first job and was required to come to Mumbai frequently. The local trains, the chaos on the roads, the crowds, the humdrum, the salty smell in the air, the stale air- everything about this city was intoxicating for me. 
Keep reading »

Essay: How to mourn the loss of love?

By
Image
Image Source: Unsplash.com I remember the first time I mourned the loss of love was when I was eleven.  For me, dance was love at that time. I had discovered a strange joy as I glided in and out of those movements. Every time I swirled; I could feel my heart soar. Any beat that strained to reach my ears, tempted me to move my body to its tune. I just knew I was born to dance and that is the only thing I wanted to do, all my life.  I had my reasons to believe so and a very simple one at that. It made me happy. That was a reason enough. However, my father thought otherwise. Girls from good families, do not dance. That line was enough to break all those rosy dreams of dancing on a stage. The day my brother was sent to the same dance class which was not good for me, was the day I experienced heartbreak for the first time.  That is the day I mourned the loss of my first love- Dance. 
Keep reading »

Metro Diaries: The Art of Making Love

By
Image
Image Source: Unpexels (Cottonbro) “Do you know why is it called making love?” He whispered, pulling the comforter closer.  I don’t remember for how long we had been in that room, on that bed. Lying aimlessly, just feeling each other in silence. I managed to just whimper to denote my curiosity.   “Because that is the moment we create love. We are the closest we could ever be to love, in its purest form. It is sheer magic as we are naked, in every form. Mentally, physically and emotionally before that one person, we love. We know they can hurt us, as much as they want to, in the way they want to. But love gives us that power to trust them, that they won’t.”   “And here I was thinking it is a need. Something you want at that moment and you get it!” 
Keep reading »