From a Blogger .. to an Author !!
It all started with random musings getting formatted as a blog post and getting uploaded, in an effort to get appreciated. Then, it became an innocent necessity. Then, it became a must.
One day, it all stopped.
The compulsions of life took over. The words were left like a picture over the rear view mirror.
But a return was inevitable.
“Someone’s Story, No One’s Tale” is a part of me. This book of short stories is personal, yet their are so many to thank for the inspiration. I have tried not to wander too far away from the realism. Obviously, there will be flaws in my expressions of the human emotions. The settings of the scenes may not be amply justified in detail. The pace of the stories may not be how you many would like them to unfold. I certainly may have strolled away from the scholarly complexities of being correct in the literary sense. But I do know one thing for sure, that I have been faithful to myself because I desired for my piece of work to be authentic and meaningful to the readers.
Please find the links to the book. If you wish, do let me know as to where I can improve and write better.
I present to you –
Someone’s Story, No One’s Tale !!
International link – Buy here
Canada link – Buy here
UK link – Buy here
eBooks – Kindle, Kobo, GooglePlay
Indian link – Amazon, Flipkart, Notion Press
Much Regards
Happy Blogging !
My First Video of Poetry
Hi Bloggers !
I do consider myself good with my loner thoughts ! Thinking is an exercise and and it helps one to evolve and refresh.
Just sharing the debut YouTube video link of my channel below…have endeavoured to sound meaningful and sane !
Regards
Happy Blogging
Under The Crescent Moon – Debut Fiction by Aditi Chandak
Dear All,
When I got first introduced to Aditi through this wonderful platform of WordPress Blog community, she was a schoolgirl balancing her academic compulsions and literary ambitions. It takes perseverance, focus and a lot of support to nurture both.
This day, when her debut fiction “Under The Crescent Moon” has hit the stands (and garnering terrific reviews), I can complement Aditi for very bravely and successfully achieving both! Congratulations!
“Under The Crescent Moon” is a story about lives getting together to find a meaning. The story of Maera, Vikrant and Nikhil takes you to a believable canvas with regular people experiencing genuine emotions and going through the fun/dilemma/responsibilities of real families. The story begins with the professional obligations our characters are going through and seamlessly flows through their desires, attractions and a very significant piece of the past. The balance maintained while portraying the essence of Maera-Vikrant’s and Maera-Nikhil’s relationships is noteworthy, very delicately treating them as individuals. There is this infectious maturity shown by the characters which you find amiss in real life nowadays. If I have to choose the high point of the work, it would certainly be the authenticity of emotions illustrated – for me it is the most difficult box to tick for any writer.
Please show your appreciation by ordering a copy forthwith !
Suhani and I once again congratulate Aditi and everyone associated with “Under The Crescent Moon” for a job well done….any many more to come !
Don’t Wake Me Up…Just Burn Me Alive
I don’t have much to revisit in life.
Nor do I wish to change anything.
I just wish us to be “humane and aware” in this new year.
Rape. Violence against women. Marital violence. Female Foeticide.
Time to be Man Enough. Human Enoguh.
Steps
No memories can glorify the ache of being away,
unnervingly slithering towards the feel of being forgotten.
Name unfamiliar, thoughts unwanted, prayers unsure.
Some dreams bleeding profusely – some breaths cut shortened
Crowded, depleted and muddled intentions of beliefs,
drive past the lane of spurious efforts for an applause.
Those who had once euphoric willingness to glow in desires,
paint blanks & see hollow – still numb at demise of their cause.
The mine that still belongs to me – speaks with a muted gut
and walks amongst the shadows, away from any touch of significance.
This is a world he had built with stones of pious grief.
The same world which buried him with no repentance.
Beneath this dark unbecoming of a villain for self that I’ve become
the plea for a platter of innocent dreams and untainted acts, yearns.
Holding on to the last silhouettes of a childish inquisitiveness,
I decide to shred my present – letting the spark breathe and burn.
Nameless Stories
With a heart,
purer than the most honest of my prayers,
you being there defines me being
I try to memorize
every moment spent caressed by your aura,
protected from every surplus scheming
Elevated in every sense,
pristine, ecstatic, desirous, blissful and Godly,
that touch of immortality is beaded in our togetherness
Take my Gods away,
take them where they will be remembered and justly kept,
open doors of heaven and a chance to own righteousness.
None would deserve more,
this sight of naive dreams smiling through the veils.
In the worth of your ashes rest all eventual glories.
Here I stand at the end
and dare to look into the eyes of every sun ever shone.
Time shall come back in time to tell our nameless stories.
Tum Ho…
Bechaini ki bheed main gar khwabon ko ek tang galiyarey se do ghoont saans hi mil paye
to pareshaan na hona….
….aajkal to bekadri ke kabristaan main
ilm ki laashon ka bhi dum ghut-ta hai
Who tumhare likhe par haseingey, tumhari banayi tasveeron ko rakh se tolengey
to pareshaan na hona…
…ab pattharon main farishtey nahin bastey
aur uske ghar sar jhukane ka bhi mol lagta hai
Kabhi is safar main thakk jao aur koi do boond saharey ke tum par meharbaan na kare
to pareshaan na hona…
…aur do ghoont apni pyaas ke hi pee lena
kyunki aaj kal to us geeli Chenab ke seeney main bhi lahoo ke khanjar behtey hain
Tum sonchogi ki aisa kya tutaa, kya choota – jo mere dil ke qurbat registhan sa banjar nazaara hai
tum hairaan na hona…
…rooh to khuda jaisey kisi saaye ke saath ruksat thi
jab hum char sookhey, boodhey, begaaney saayon ke beech jalein hain – tab jakar zinda hue hain
The Sand Beneath The Mast
Songs of dawn resonant in her eyes
Dispelling vanities of this puerile realm
Absolute sheen in her dew lit candles
Their lambent mirage speaks who I am
Her abundant calm is the air I breathe
She walks bare feet towards my unadorned heart
When words stifle for a mere rhyme
She sends a sonata to play her part
Tell these midnight memories to fade away
Those reminiscent of longing for a pause
With the story of my dreams in your eyes
Such moonless night, let stars be the cause
The reed I hold won’t enthrall the hearers
Bejeweled hollowness creates another chasm
Like the sand that fills the mast from beneath
Let’s be a song for the virtuosos to fathom
Sin of Being Pure
Rape. Domestic Violence. Physical & Mental Harassment.
Biased Moralities. Prejudiced Priorities. Unwanted Principles.
The following poem is an attempt to express the feelings of a woman in pain by just being a part of our society.
No mirrors tell my story
None paint the pain I drown and die every moment in
Time doesn’t stop to know my part of the death
Introductions rot with a din
I search for heartbeats
In battered pieces of flesh, once they had a soul
Bleeding tears of carrying your disgrace upon me
A dead one with a silent yowl
Loathe me with all you’ve got
Bring all the profane grumblings, unprejudiced or unsure
I’m left with slayed dreams, you took all that was me
My only sin was of being pure
Being Her
Women around us, in our societies, in our workplaces and even in our homes get treated in a demeaning manner.
Do we seek to make a better world without giving respect to our ladies ?
Broken flutes orchestrate a perfect symphony.
A tattered shroud masks the sorrows untamed.
Flowerets shiver in the cold sun masked by smoke.
For her conspicuous dreams – is she to be blamed?
Daubing her skin away from the acidic prejudice
and the sightless hunger for the innocence of her kind.
She works in a yard with the prominent in prey
as the quivering worth of a woman goes to the blind.
With a muted applause from her callous apprentices,
she carries bouquets of smiles covering her sores.
Alive in her own story of a life beyond the tale.
She hides our guiltless shame beneath her toes.
just spoken thoughts 