Book Review: All Aboard by Kiran Manral

                 

Author: Kiran Manral

Published by: Penguin Books India

On the jacket: When Rhea Khanna is dumped by her boyfriend of four years just days before her marriage, the only thing she wants to do is to get out of the city to clear her head. The opportunity presents itself immediately when her aunt, a retired school headmistress, invites her aboard a Mediterranean cruise. As Rhea struggles to cope with her grief of being dumped at the altar, she finds herself getting attracted to the seemingly involved Kamal Shahani – the infuriatingly attractive ex-student of her aunt and a hot shot entrepreneur. To add to the confusion, Sonia, Kamal’s very attractive ex-girlfriend boards the ship in a bid to win him back.

Will Rhea heal her broken heart, or will she end up even more shattered than she was when she got on this cruise?

Review: I have read one of Kiran's books and upon reading All Aboard, the first thing that I noticed is the simpler tone of the vocabulary as well as English, as compared to her previous books. I feel it as a welcome move for majority of the readers. But having said that, there is not a shadow of having a tone down when it comes to the story and romance. It is perfect to put it in a simple way.

If you are like me who has always dreamt of going on a cruise, but for some reasons the journey has still not materialized, then All Aboard will be an exciting read - For it gives you an in-depth view of the cruise liner, the locations, which made me feel as if I am visualizing it on a wide screen and the sort of characters that you would probably bump into. So a round of applause for the research the author has done for a romance novel is commendable.

Now coming to the plot, the plot is pretty simple. Two strangers bump across each other, with a blow hot blow cold vibes between them and finally they realize they are made for each other. But, the thing is the witty narration, the superb character of Rina Massi, the vulnerable Rhea, simple and straight forward Kamal and the self doubts and misconceptions that is actually keeping the plot exciting to read. 

Overall: All Aboard is a simple read that will touch the right chord with readers with its good plot and apt story telling.

PS: I had only received a signed copy of the book by the author and the review of the book is my own.

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Five Tips To Keep Baby's Skin Soft

We all love babies, especially if its our own. Right from day one we start pampering the baby and do things which according to us might be good for the baby. Moreover, as a parent, I think there may be innumerable times when we must have doubted whether it is good for the baby or not. Trust me, I had many days simply arguing what's best for the baby and what is not. 

So eventually after a year's experience in baby sitting (on Sundays) and with a crash course on changing the diapers, I now know at least five tips which will keep and prolong the softness of your baby skin.

Pic Courtesy

1) Keep your baby away from sunlight - Protect your baby from sunlight as much as you can especially till initial six months. Exposing them to direct sunlight robs them away of their tender skin and can cause the skin-burn. Even an exposure of just say five minutes can prove harmful as you are still not aware how the baby's skin will react. Moreover, you cannot apply any sunscreen till the baby turns one. If it is utmost necessary to take your baby in the sun, then please make sure that you dress your baby in a hat and full sleeved clothes.

2) Keep your baby away from aunties and uncles who like to give a peck - "Oh, how cute!"... and with that they give a peck on the baby's cheeks. Some don't stop at that. They go ahead to lend some more kisses on the forehead and cheeks and stop only being thoroughly satisfied. As if they are seeing a baby for the first time in their life. Please ensure that you keep your baby away from such people as much as you can because, forget giving a peck, even touching without sanitizing the hands can lead to passing of germs to the baby, which no parent would want.  

3) Massage - 'A massage a day keeps the baby's skin soft and healthy'. This is the old age phrase which is still relevant in majority of the households. A good massage helps in relaxing the baby's limbs and also helps in giving their skin enough moisture. The oil used for the massage is also important. Generally, we use the tried and tested ones which have been used since generations. Also, it is good to give a massage with a moisturizing cream post bath. A plumped and hydrated body will allow to hold for more moisture rather than pre-bath massage.

4) Prevent diaper rash - A major reason for skin rash among babies is the usage of diaper. It is very much important to use a diaper that is soft not only from the outside but also from the inside. This is where most of the couples put their trust on Pampers. This will prevent diaper rash. Also, in the infancy, it is necessary to change diapers every couple of hours as the baby's skin is extremely soft and can easily take to rashes. Moreover a soiled diaper needs to be changed immediately and the bottom be cleaned thoroughly. A dash of moisturizing cream post wiping the baby's behind is also good. 

5) Timely nutrition and hydration - A timely mother's milk helps in gaining the required amount of nutrition and we all know that a nutritious body allows for a good supple skin.

These are the five essential tips to keep and prolong the softness of the baby's skin. If you know some more, kindly do share with us.

“Pampers brings you the softest ever Pampers Premium Care Pants. Its cotton-like softness is #SoftestForBabySkin and allows it to breathe, thus keeping baby’s skin soft and healthy, and your baby happy. ”

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Encounters by Sumana Khan

Encounters 

by 

SumanaKhan 

Blurb 

Someone Is Always Waiting 

Watch It 

EXCERPT FROM THE NOVELETTE “THE STORYTELLER” IN ENCOUNTERS COLLECTION

I stare at the cement bench covered in pigeon shit and spot the dim outline of the granite slab embedded in the backrest. Years ago, when the bench was new, the granite slab was a shiny black mirror inscribed with the words ‘Dedicated to the courageous people of Thirukadal’. Four cyclones and many pigeons later, the words have disappeared. The place is so choked with weeds that the bench appears to rest on the thorny plants. Behind me, beyond a muddy track, the Bay of Bengal hisses and sighs in a treacherous language.

I look up at the sky, as if to decode the time. My watch says it is half past seven in the morning, but the sky, clotted with grey clouds, remains secretive. It could be evening as far as the heavens are concerned. A depressing form of rain is assured; the kind that only occurs in this eastern coast of South India—skies that sob continuously for forty-eight hours, increasing humidity, mosquitoes and the stench of choked drains, damp walls and wet clothes. I wonder if the sky had been just as morose on the morning of 26 December, 2004.

I tie a handkerchief around my face, covering my nose and mouth, and hack away at the weeds. Swarms of mosquitoes and flies rise in a static buzz and hover over my head like a satanic dark halo. It takes me an hour to clear a small area around the bench. The sky starts its weeping just as I scrub the bench with a coconut husk and Vim detergent powder.    

After half an hour, the granite slab gleams into existence once again. I’ve got my memorial ritual paraphernalia in a Food World plastic bag. I bring out a strand of jasmine that I loop around the granite slab, its fragrance weak in the rain. I crouch under my umbrella that won’t open fully and light a couple of incense sticks. I’ve forgotten to bring the incense holder, so I stick the smouldering incense into a banana that was to be my breakfast. I place it on the bench in front of the granite slab and hold the umbrella over it. I close my eyes in an attempt to pray. All I can think of is the angry allergic rash that’s spreading on my legs and hands thanks to the weeds and that the incense smells like a cheap aftershave.

I give up and sit on the bench, still holding the umbrella over the incense. The rain stings my skin like the rash. The hard, wet seat numbs my thighs instantly and a dull arthritic pain blooms in my knees and lower back. I squirm, shifting my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I wait, just as I’ve waited in vain for the last seven years, for the storyteller to show up. The incense is all ash now. I may as well eat the banana and tell you the story of how I met this mysterious man.    

About The Author 

Sumana Khan was born and raised in Bangalore and currently lives in the UK. She is a blogger and a student. Her debut novel was The Revenge of Kaivalya. 

Author website: http://www.sumanakhan.com

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Encounters - Someone's Always Waiting

bySumana Khan

Giveaway ends December 11, 2015.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

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I Confess to Thee

Well, confession is not that easy. That is what I have actually heard and in fact that is true too. 

"Confessions act like a broom, sweeps all the dirt and leaves a brighter road ahead."

But what if I had to confess - "small things" to someone to whom I am in love with, to whom I have willfully agreed to spend the rest of my life with (including petty fights to quarrels to not talking at some point), to whom I am the best thing ever happened after her Dad, to whom I am the cynosure of her eye, to whom I am legally married to and a father of a doting kiddo? 

Sounds a Himalayan task, right? Probably more difficult then confessing to a crime - you get a whack at your behind and you probably confess; but getting kisses doesn't lead you to confess your love. Does it? I hope you got the point.

So now what happens to the above quote? It completely makes a mess of the confession that I am about to share. But then, as a writer you need to improvise every now and then and let the creativity flow. So I decided to play with the words...

"Kisses acts like a broom, sweeps all the dirt and leaves a feel good feeling."

This quote somewhat makes sense but not completely as it doesn't lead to the confession about how much I love. 

So when quotes aren't enough, the second-best thing to do is write a poem. So here I go with a Himalayan task, a smile on my face as I recollect those days of our courtship. 

Note: Whoever thinks this is easy, has not tried baby sitting. It is highly easy to baby sit then to write a confession poem that too on Love for your better half. One mistake and you will be dead. Mind it!

Source

On the count of 3, 2, 1...

The day, I had my eyes still on you

It still does today upon your sight

The radiance, the poise, the hue

Your presence is my eye's delight

The widening of the your lips

Highlighting your plump cheeks

Which I still pull till you quip

Is what my heart always seeks

The first rush of blood

The kisses that flooded our souls

All etched in thy heart's canvas would

Get evoked every time as thy heart cajoles

Always on cue

Without even my uttering a word

Your another hue

Is what amuses me and leaves my heart recolored

Those exchanges of daring messages

That sharing of adventurous selfies

Is what made my home-alone abuzz

A perfect for hearts' therapies

O! How could I forget !

The main reason for a 'yes'

The naughty yet lustrous and drool-worthy asset

Disheveled, kept, coiffured, I obsess

Even we had our fair share of pizzas

The four aligning with you, rest with me

Understanding created a fuzz

But we sealed it with a kissing spree

That's how I as a partner prefer

Melting into each other's arms

Calming our nerves to blur

The fight, and rising to the lover's charm

There can still be a fallacy

Resulting into a sore

But I confess I would not flee

And not let the love to the door

Phew! That was one of a confession.... till death do us apart, until the bond, the feelings and emotions, the mutual respect, the support, the romance and Love will always be seeing the sunshine.  

This post is written in a response to a #WritingPrompt #CanIConfess as a part of the #BlogBuddy initiative by @Blogchatter a wonderful platform for bloggers on every genre, that encourages, motivates, encourages on everything blogging! 

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A Thousand Unspoken Words

A Thousand Unspoken Words 

By 

Paulami Duttagupta 

Publisher: Readomania 

Blurb 

A hero, a person who displays great courage for the greater good, can also fall. But what happens to a fallen hero? A Thousand Unspoken Words is the unique journey of a hero who falls. 

The champion of the underdogs, the writer who uses the nom de plume Musafir is famous in Kolkata. His incisive criticism of the injustices around him earn him many enemies but he holds his ideals above all else. Scathing attacks at his books and a night of hide and seek from political goons leads Musafir unto a path he never liked, faraway from his ideals. He runs away and chooses the comforts of money over the travails of following one’s ideals. The hero falls. 

But Tilottama, passionate fan’s hopes don’t. When he comes back after many years, emotions, love and lust take charge and an affair brews. Will she bring back her hero? Will he rise again? Or will the thousand untold words, the many stories of the ideal writer be lost forever?

Buy @

Amazon.in | Amazon.com

Excerpt

Wahan kaun hai tera, Musafir jaayega kaha’, the retro radio show played the SD Burman classic. Tilottama looked at her radio once and tears blurred her vision.

‘O Sachin karta this song reminds me of him.’

Tilotamma quickly wiped her eyes and turned the radio off. The day had been taxing enough. She needed to unwind, get Musafir out of her mind. How crazy could some people get? He had just written a fictional piece. How could fiction humiliate a government in power with an absolute majority? Wasn’t this a democracy? How could the supporters of a faith or political party get all insecure and burn his books?

The object of Tilottama’s despair, Musafir, was a writer supposedly based out of Kolkata. He wrote books at irregular intervals, and hid behind the veil of anonymity. His pieces were mostly social commentaries and satires on the state of Bengal. They were all fictional but had come under severe criticism in the past few months. Little paperbacks in funny covers, his books were available in old, rambling, bookstores across the city. Some were also available with the book vendors on the footpaths of the city.

When the news of the pulping of Musafir’s books had reached her a couple of days ago, Tilottama hadn’t thought things would go beyond a protest or two. The people of the city wouldn’t let go of things without a sign of protest. They got agitated at trivial things like who was included in a cricket team, and burned effigies and tyres in protest. They took out processions for Vietnam and Gaza. They could protest against him; but there would also be scores who would come out for her Musafir. They did when Firaz was hounded for his paintings of Goddesses.

‘And when they come out in large numbers, these goons will realize what it feels like standing before a civil society. They just can’t stifle Musafir’, she had confidently told her friends. What she did not realize was Musafir wasn’t exactly popular with the masses. His works were mostly literary and catered to niche readers. Her admiration for him had made her assume he was more popular than he really was.

Things had happened much faster than expected and spiralled out of control. Musafir’s printing press was vandalized and set on fire. Even as she and other Musafir fans watched, his books were dumped into that raging fire; words and hopes lost. The hundred odd fans tried to put up a bravefight, sang songs of freedom and stood with placards. But nothing worked. A couple of local channels had tried to stand by them in solidarity. The protest ended as a camera was smashed by the hoodlums on the road. People started fleeing fearing more violence.

‘They would kill us if they could’, Tilottama angrily spat out. ‘We were just so outnumbered. These were organized cadres. Yes, they were. Their bosses just can’t pretend to be innocent.’

A handful of policemen stood by pretending as if nothing was happening. The printing press was in one of the dingier parts of North Kolkata. It mainly did odd jobs like printing leaflets and bills, a few little magazines etc. and would print Musafir’s books on the sly. That is where he gave shape to his voice. The place was reportedly registered in the name of a man long dead, and people were left guessing who Musafir was. Some said the owner was a refugee who was avenging years of discontent. Some said his son was murdered by members of the ruling party. Some said he was just a frustrated man using the medium to lend himself a voice. To some other the entire idea was amusing and fascinating.

Tilottama grimaced and wiped her face clean. She was cutting a very sorry picture indeed, covered in grime andtears. All she could think of was her Musafir. She fought back her tears wondering what could have happened to her hero. For the past couple of years a strong wind of incumbency was blowing and Musafir’s voice had become stronger. Everything came under Musafir’s attack; from Dhaniajhapi to the burning of monks, the ban on English in government run schools, the apathy in the use of computers and much more. However, recently he had become vocal against all forms of religious appeasement and challenged the special religious laws. He had also set the stage against land acquisition bills, mismanaged industrialization plans and pre-election harangues. Musafir wrote as many books as possible bringing the discrepancies to light. And that is what brought about his downfall.

Tilottama sat on her bed and hugged her knees to her chest and went over the events of the day. She bit back the memory of the man who had asked her to let go of her placard, but that face would just not fade. 

‘What had he called himself,’ she wondered, ‘Ayushmaan . . .no Riddhimaan.’

He was a photographer! How dispassionate could he be?He had watched the carnage, merrily taken snaps and asked her to throw away her placard. If even the press did not come out in support of Musafir, then who would? Weren’t both of them fighting to make the pen immortal? Why was the media silent now; because Musafir didn’t have international backing, or corporate sponsors? She was upset that Poltu had shamelessly praised the man. Riddhimaan and the likes of him would give importance to writers only if they had a South Block or Writers’ Building backing.

‘I wish this government goes down. They will go down. I promise you Musafir they will,’ she told herself.

The loud banging of her window pane broke her reverie. The rains had lashed Kolkata with all their fury that evening. 

‘Even Mother Nature is angry. Drown the city, drown all of us. Since we have nowhere to go and hide our shame,’ Tilottama said aloud.

She continued to rant as she shut the window. She had hurt her finger in the process. Then she walked into her bedroom looking for the first aid box. As she cleaned the cut, the antiseptic made her skin burn and her thoughts drifted to Musafir. There was no way to divert her mind. Maybe reading Musafir would help, or maybe writing. Musafir always said he wrote to look for answers. Maybe she could do that too. But nothing gave her peace; maybe she was obsessed with the writer. The gag on Musafir was beginning to become a personal loss to her.

About Paulami Duttagupta 

Paulami DuttaGupta is a novelist and screen writer. She shuttles between Kolkata and Shillong. She has worked as a radio artist, copy writer, journalist and a television analyst at various stages of her life, having been associated with AIR Shillong, The Times of India—Guwahati Shillong Plus, ETV Bangla, The Shillong Times, Akash Bangla and Sony Aath.As an author, her short stories have appeared in various anthologies and literary magazines. A Thousand Unspoken Words is her fourth book. Paulami also writes on politics, social issues and cinema. Her articles have appeared in Swarajya, The Forthright and NElive. 

Paulami is associated with cinema and her first film, Ri-Homeland of Uncertainty received the National Award for the Best Khasi Film. Her second film Onaatah—Of the Earth is at post production stage and will release in 2016. She is currently working on her third screenplay. A short film tentatively titled ‘Patjhar’ is also in the pipeline.

Paulami is a complete foodie and is almost obsessed with watching one film every day. She also loves reading—political and social commentaries are her favourite genre. Literature classics and books on cricket are also a part of her library, apart from a huge collection of romances. Jane Austen’s fictional character Mr. Darcy is her lifelong companion. She is an ardent fan of Rahul Dravid and has been following all news about him for almost twenty years now.

Stalk her @

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4 Android Smartphone Camera Hacks for Awesome Pictures

Technology is at the root of everything. Whichever product you use, it has some or the other technology applied for the better performance of the final product. The same goes with mobile phones or rather smartphones. 

If you as a lay man who is smarter between yourself and your smartphone, I am sure that person will choose the smartphone as the clear winner. What not it does for you! For instance, it can wake you up, keep you in touch with any and everyone on this universe, share important business related files and click pictures too!! Isn't that a device of great utility and importance in today's generation?

Well, as it is said, 'You can keep the smartphone away from you, but smartphone won't allow you to keep it away from you'.

So let us look at some of the awesome things you can do with your android smartphone camera.

1) Your smartphone camera will allow you to take pictures of things that are faraway from your present location. Now, don't look confused and give me a wry smile. You don't believe me? Fine, I will tell you how. Take your now-never-to-be-used binocular lying in one of the corners of your cupboard. Place the lens of your camera in front of the viewing lens of the binocular and snap! You will get the desired image of a faraway place without moving from your current location.

Tip: The trick is good while you are holidaying or travelling.

2) I think you must have at least once wished of having a clone of yourself to work on your behalf. Well, unfortunately camera doesn't allow you that, but what it can do is play a prank on people whom you wish to be fooled. Didn't get it? I'll tell you. Go to the panorama mode of your camera and ask some one to capture you. Once you are captured in the frame, run a la Usian Bolt towards the other corner where you want to be captured in the panorama. Bingo! you have now successfully cloned yourselves only to fool the people around you.

Tip: Be your casual self in one click and your Halloween self in the other for maximum effect.

3)  We have always wished to have that one perfect click of nature and surroundings. Sometimes we only want a particular thing in the frame, like a pinhole effect. To create a pinhole effect either you need to visit a designer or a Photoshop expert to create a pinhole effect. But now with your one-man army of smartphone camera, you can do this easily. You need to place a cardboard just below the lens and a thumbtack strategically for the desired final effect. What you will get is a nice pinhole effect for your image.

Tip: Use different things apart from thumbtack. Even your tiny part of finger tip can give you the desired result. Also, it needs much practice.

4) If your sunglasses has a reflective coating on its lens then use it to its best especially during the early morning and late afternoon times. This can be a new arsenal in your photography tricks to get some superb perspective and shots.

Tip: Try clicking it from different angles and see which one is the best. You will learn only through trial and error. 

Also, here are some few more tricks to use your Android Smartphone Camera to its best.

1) Avoid flash as much as you can. Use natural light for better images.

2) Avoid using digital zoom as the image will appear grainy. 

3) Use HDR while taking images of stationary objects.

So, it is time to be a Technocrat and test your smartphone camera using the above ways for more fun and awesome pictures.

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Waves

Hello friends, it is the day when creative juices flow in such a flow that it becomes imperative to pen it down. Only then you feel better and a lot happier. So that's exactly what I did. I wrote some micro poetries on Twitter on the prompt 'Waves'. This prompt was given by the Twitter handle KaafiyaPoetry. So here are my seven micro poetries on 'Waves'.

Hope you all like it !!

Flowing waves hitting the shores not knowing the start or the end just like my feelings for you @KaafiyaPoetry #KaafiyaMilaao

— Rohan Kachalia (@rohank01) November 17, 2015

The waves caress my feet a tingling sensation akin to thy soft fingers creating ripples within @KaafiyaPoetry #KaafiyaMilaao

— Rohan Kachalia (@rohank01) November 17, 2015

Guide me to safety do not like yesteryear, I have ferried through troubled waters & rising waves @KaafiyaPoetry #KaafiyaMilaao

— Rohan Kachalia (@rohank01) November 17, 2015

Incoming waves the dry sand now wet a similar feeling his hand creep past the edges a flushed wave of ecstasy @KaafiyaPoetry #KaafiyaMilaao

— Rohan Kachalia (@rohank01) November 17, 2015

The blink of ur eyes rises a wave of passion the dimples close to ur lips rises a tsunami of passion in me @KaafiyaPoetry #KaafiyaMilaao

— Rohan Kachalia (@rohank01) November 17, 2015

An act of kindness a blanket of humanity drives away hatred and releases tidal waves of love @KaafiyaPoetry #KaafiyaMilaao

— Rohan Kachalia (@rohank01) November 17, 2015

The waves of thought keeps on rising & falling sometime soft sometime harsh, engaged & hooked a writer's buddy @KaafiyaPoetry #KaafiyaMilaao

— Rohan Kachalia (@rohank01) November 17, 2015

 If you have liked the poems, please do share on any platform of your liking. It will be a big boost to me as a poet. Thank you for dropping by and reading the verses. :)

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