30 Plus First in Series Books

At Book Funnel, there are First Books in Mystery, Suspense and Thriller series. Go grab your next favorite thriller and enjoy.

Among them lies my:
Little Abode for Children : https://books.bookfunnel.com/cozyfirsts/7v6kodrhiv

 

30 Plus FREE Books for YOU

 

My action adventure Mystery book Just a Finger is with many other books in this promo on a new site.

Find the book here : https://books.bookfunnel.com/noirvember/p9r45uhhg4

FREE Book for You

 

All the information of the book are here: https://www.amazon.in/dp/B0B7CNCPHL

BEFORE September 30, 2022 SIGN ON to my newsletter https://www.subscribepage.com/x8x3e1

AND Collect YOUR FREE Copy of Slaying the Sovereign #pentopublish5

Read the book and post a review latest by October 15, 2022: 

India (amazon.in): https://www.amazon.in/review/create-review/?ie=UTF8&channel=glance-detail&asin=B0B7CNCPHL

United States (amazon.com): https://www.amazon.com/review/create-review/?ie=UTF8&channel=glance-detail&asin=B0B7CNCPHL

United Kingdom (amazon.co.uk): https://www.amazon.co.uk/review/create-review/?ie=UTF8&channel=glance-detail&asin=B0B7CNCPHL

Canada (amazon.ca): https://www.amazon.ca/review/create-review/?ie=UTF8&channel=glance-detail&asin=B0B7CNCPHL

Australia (amazon.com.au): https://www.amazon.com.au/review/create-review/?ie=UTF8&channel=glance-detail&asin=B0B7CNCPHL

BEFORE September 30, 2022 SIGN ON to my newsletter https://www.subscribepage.com/x8x3e1

AND Collect YOUR FREE Copy of Slaying the Sovereign 

Read the book and post a review latest by October 15, 2022: 

India (amazon.in): https://www.amazon.in/review/create-review/?ie=UTF8&channel=glance-detail&asin=B0B7CNCPHL

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61738758-slaying-the-sovereign

#fantasy #yafantasy #youngadult #urbanfantasy #YA #epicfantasy

#magicrealism

#bookgiveaway #Giveaway #GiveawayAlert #Giveaways #free 

Let it shower like August rain

 

Let it shower in drips like August rain, let it shower

Yours tune on my face, on my heart, let it shower

Let it fell on my eyes in dawn with Eastern lights

Let it fell on my life in plenty in the dark of nights

All days and nights, over live’s rapture and despair

Let it shower in drips like August rain, let it shower

Branches that never have borne flowers and fruits

Let Yours monsoon air bring life to those offshoots

Whatever inanimate, worn and torn within me

Let them get drenched wholly in Yours melody

All day and night over live’s desire and hunger

Let it shower in drips like August rain, let it shower

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Original:

শ্রাবণের     ধারার মতো পড়ুক ঝরে, পড়ুক ঝরে

 তোমারি     সুরটি আমার মুখের ’পরে, বুকের ’পরে॥

 পুরবের     আলোর সাথে পড়ুক প্রাতে দুই নয়ানে–

 নিশীথের     অন্ধকারে গভীর ধারে পড়ুক প্রাণে।

 নিশিদিন     এই জীবনের সুখের ’পরে, দুখের ’পরে

 শ্রাবণের     ধারার মতো পড়ুক ঝরে, পড়ুক ঝরে॥

 যে শাখায়    ফুল ফোটে না, ফল ধরে না একেবারে,

 তোমার ওই   বাদল-বায়ে দিক জাগায়ে সেই শাখারে।

 যা-কিছু      জীর্ণ আমার, দীর্ণ আমার, জীবনহারা,

 তাহারি       স্তরে স্তরে পড়ুক ঝরে সুরের ধারা।

 নিশিদিন      এই জীবনের তৃষার ’পরে, ভুখের ’পরে

 শ্রাবণের      ধারার মতো পড়ুক ঝরে, পড়ুক ঝরে॥

My Crave Cast Interview

 

When my interviewer Mr. Kurtis Workman lauded my mischief with the subtitle of How to Steal a Pond it insinuated more mischief. I can only say, “Corrupt people are so lame that they can never play by the rules though those rules were set by themselves.”

To find more fun and mischief listen to my interview on Crave Cast : https://cravebooks.com/podcast

It is also available on several popular podcast channels (mostly login is not required and listening is FREE). Some channels are listed below. Pick your favorite one, listen and let me know how you find it.

Apple: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/crave-books/

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/

BuzzSprout: https://www.buzzsprout.com/1853987

Google Podcast: https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5idXp6c3Byb3V0LmNvbS8xODUzOTg3LnJzcw==

Amazon Music: https://music.amazon.in/podcasts/6f253875-23c5-407a-8925-e541603dc2e3/crave-books?Amazon Music

Crave Cast is a podcast by Crave Books. Crave Books [https://cravebooks.com/] is home of FREE and discounted books. You can check it here: https://cravebooks.com/author/sanhita-mukherjee

My interviewer Mr. Kurtis Workman is an extremely talented author and theater persona. He co-authored several books. When I asked permission to share his author page, he said that the real talent in the family is his wife. She writes Western Romances under the pen name of Erin Wright. Her Amazon author page is here https://www.amazon.com/Erin-Wright/e/B01M0CEXYM. She is a proponent of Wide publications and you can find her on other bookstores, online and otherwise, as well.

Looking forward to your reflections….

Street Facts and Little Abode for Children

 

This is not fiction. But these are fun facts.

Little Abode for Children was launched on October 4, 2021. It is available at: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09HSQYBN2

It was loved by the readers.

The gradual love of readers placed the book among top books in different categories.

That stats on March 21, 2022 were like these:

#9 in One-Hour Teen & Young Adult Short Reads

#41 in One-Hour Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Short Reads

#123 in One-Hour Literature & Fiction Short Reads

Along with Little Abode for Children, Street Fact, which was released on November 15, 2021 reached some top places in some categories, too. It is available at : https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09LZ2XV4P

It’s stats on March 21, 2022 were like this:

#65 in One-Hour Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Short Reads

#232 in One-Hour Literature & Fiction Short Reads

#1,251 in Women's Detective Fiction

All along I thought reviews attract more readers. But Little Abode for Children had zero (0) reviews till  this post went live and Street Fact has one.

I am still hungry for reviews.

If your suggestion is to create a million fake accounts and post reviews from those accounts (Of Course 5-star reviews), then you must know that I have to make a purchase of $50/- from all those accounts to make those accounts eligible for writing reviews. Thus, the idea must be scrapped because it was impractical and excessively expensive. The same reason would deter me from writing negative reviews of the books competing with the books mentioned above. I have seen people doing things like this on Amazon. 

There is no point buying reviews or exchanging reviews. None of these actions would help me grow as an author. I need real reviews. 

Will you post a review for these books? 

Let me know in the comments.

Millions of Views Dangling from the Sky

Here’s another day of feeling special. Another day to adore one’s own self with insane inane ideas ideals (intangible thought provoking merchandise from ambiguous sellers pretending to be benevolent thought leaders and social uplifter).... Another day of being as needy, attention begging, victimhood celebrating kaput as possible.

But an occasion is enough for an opportunist like me to post and promote another fiction (my merc)  about a fiery life. 

So no objection to whatever it is …. Here’s the short story …

—-------

Millions of Views Dangling from the Sky

They said, “The hoardings! Arrgh.”

Yes, they said the hoardings were making the city sky dirty. Even they had some taglines, floating without a title, “The faces are covered under the ads.”

I was less than ten years old then. I wanted the truth. I wanted to see how dirty the hoardings were.

My mother was too supportive. She promised herself to fulfill all my wishes. She made it very clear to me even then, before I turned ten.

She went to war against everything that stood against fulfillment of my wishes. It was not easy for me though. But I had her fighting some of my battles.

So when I spilled to her, “Ma, I wanna be up, among those hoardings …” she clearly laid out choices before me, “Either you are on the hoardings or you’re flying much above them.”

It seemed unfair. She asked me to choose between my own wishes. But it was true that the week before I wished to become a fighter jet pilot.

She explained, “To become anything, you’ve to put time and effort. Till you’re twelve or even fourteen, you could have time for both of your goals and some preparations may be the same and some are similar. But after that, there would be a point of no return from which you'd have to choose one or the other. Because, money can be arranged somehow, but time can never be borrowed.”

So my time was divided between advanced level physics, calculus, karate and kathak. I loved all of them like my siblings, which I never had. I could barely leave any one of them. But while flying from my aunt's place at Agartola to home in Kolkata, I realized that jets fly farther above and I could barely see the ground from above, from so high. So, on the decisive birthday, I chose the hoardings.

My mother explained to me very clearly, “Whatever you want to do, do it early. You can never learn a hundred percent of how to live your life. Everybody learns to live by living. So start early.”

So my journey took off on a ramp in the city. Then, I stepped into some beauty pageants. And, before entering the second decade of life, I stood out on those hoardings, in my city and in other cities in the nation and abroad.

My agent loved me. She used to price me the most and used to earn the most from the shares of my performances. She used to pamper me for my eccentricities, too. She put on every contract of the hoardings with my photo that I must have a chance to touch all the flex banners before they were fixed to skyward iron frames. She used to tell the agencies, “Attitude and tantrums, you know.”

She told me, “Better than nagging for a bite from a poisonous cobra.”

I did not understand if I was throwing tantrums or if it was less tantrum compared to the tantrums thrown by my colleagues. But I kept attaching cell fragments from the pupils of my eyes to those flex banners by gummy tapes.

Yes, I was rich by that time. Rich enough to carefully remove a few cells from within my eyes and trap them in between contact lenses, alive with some elixir I purchased from an eccentric chemistry professor from Pinceton.

Rich enough to preserve eggs from my strong young nourished vibrant body in cryogenic fluid to have my biological offspring at a well planned pause in my career from thirty-five to forty-five. If I could not decide about the mate by then, then I would buy sperm. If my body would not support pregnancy, then I would hire a surrogate.

It was the time when I was carefully choosing my expenses and saving a lot for the future. My only fancy was the retina cells scratched from my eyes through the pupils and preserved in the elixir from Princeton.

Sole purpose of this eye cell scratching was to see the surrounding of the hoardings and experience it. Those cells used to send me remote signals from all over the city. It was fun. Seeing the parting between the central incisor teeth of my colleagues, the annoying irregular sudden hair strand in the eyebrow of an world class model even after rigorous photoshopping, the impossible furrows of a six pack in a sculpture like male body.

There used to be the “Aha!” moments, occasionally. In autumn, after sunset the whole sky was painted pink as if by a potion of blood and milk! 

Those moments were, “Finally. I’m part of the scene.”

The solace was that no fighter jet seemed any closer from those high hoardings. They remain as high and as far as they used to be from the ground.

For the change, I once observed a rally of women in blood stenched skirts on the streets below. They claimed that those bloods were menstrual blood.

Funny. Hypocritically funny.

Menstrual blood, if it could overflow, always caught in the hemlines and about six inches above it. It could never seep up against gravity towards the waist. The fakeness of the stance, failed the cause in no time. 

Hand in hand to the fake menstrual blood people came the ‘Me too’ army.

“Fuck ‘Me too’.”

Oops! That came out wrong. “Fuck! What’s ‘Me too’?” 

Did ever anyone touched my body for their sexual pleasure without my consent arousing my discomfort and displasure?

I broke the limbs that sought opportunities with my body.

Didn’t I tell you? I was a karate blackbelt.

Besides, kathak lessons not only made my moves scintillating on the ramps, but they also strengthened my legs. My kicks were jaw breaking. 

Yes, I lost a few jobs. I was hot headed. Thick headed. I was naive and young. Too young. A teenager.

My calculus and physics lessons were too live then for alternative career choices. But I never thought of that. All I knew was that the sneaky losers never had the confidence and courtesy to ask for my permission before touching my breasts and genitals and hence, their lack of confidence would prevent them from assassinating my character and career.
My character and career were not formed yet. I was building my character and career then and any job proposal used to go through my mother. She had a proven iron strong character and a profound career as a Physics professor. Nobody would pay heed to the rumors that she sold me out for a few more bucks. Money was not a problem in my family. Fame was never enough enticing to compromise peace of mind.

After all, my entire life seemed like an experiment of living by the conditions I laid myself.

Those conditions excluded desperation. I never shied away from a quarrel. I enjoyed my fights.

And those brawls with sneaky losers? Those further strengthened my limbs.

Cry babies could never get justice from anyone or institution, administration and all heavy wordy succkers (I should have said ‘pillars’) of society. Cranky bitches could get all and a few bites and beats always sped them up their ways.

Besides, sneaky losers never had enough strength to cancel my assignments on the grounds of their broken fingers, jaws and penises. It would have been the announcement of their respective defeats and attestation of their own characters or lack of characters.

Plural? Yes. There were a few of them.

This hypocrisy, of course, did not kill my wish to hang by the sky. I enjoyed the view of pregnant women doing yoga in the park. I enjoyed swimming elderly people trying to stay fit and celebrating aging.

I found my new philanthropy targets on the streets. I established ‘Schools on the Trucks’ for little kids working on the streets during the day. The trucks were their school and shelter. I purchased spaces and built toilets and bathrooms for them. 

There were similar services and shelters for the elderly people on the streets, too. The sister-in-law of the ex-chief minister of the state was among them. Hence, there were facilities to take care of psychological ailments, too.

My life on the hoardings was paying me enough to keep all these afloat. Besides, there was international recognition followed by national recognition. I was planning to start a career in politics.

I was on my way to a meeting with my agent to discuss the opportunities in politics. A mild storm has just passed. My car was on the downward slope of a bridge. A flex banner came down swiftly on the bonnet of my car covering the entire frontal view of the driver.

The driver stopped the car abruptly. We were not hurt. But the third car on the trail got hit from behind. The rider was an octogenarian neurosurgeon of the city. His vertebrae broke. He later succumbed to his injuries in a city hospital.

That evening I launched my political party. Our primary promise was to clean up the city from ugly and dangerous hoardings and cutouts. 

I had enough of skytime. I was glad that I had. My time in the sky gave me so many purposes and goals in life.  

But it was fatal, not to me, but to others. Since, it had already been made about others, it would certainly bring me win over power.

Then, I could have an opportunity to ride fighter jets, too.

—-- —- 

IF YOU HAVE WRITTEN AND PUBLISHED SOMETHING ABOUT WOMANHOOD PLEASE SHARE THE LINK IN THE COMMENT. IF THE PUBLICATION IS TRADITIONAL AND NO VERSION IS PRESENT IN DIGITAL MEDIUM THEN UPLOAD PHOTOS OF THE WORK AND POST THE LINK OF THE PHOTO ALBUM.

"WE’RE TOGETHER IN THIS." ('This' means scratching each others’ back shamelessly ;P).

________

Here’s an older one about a Granny of a Gen Y person: https://projectionofnaught.blogspot.com/2021/08/grannys-philosophy-freedomofspeech-wep.html

Here’s another old one about a Gen Y person: https://projectionofnaught.blogspot.com/2021/12/la-chica-unapologetically-narcissistic.html 

A book of the empowered women, for empowering women by powerful women : https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09GL3HDGK

—----

Here are some collections of I have liked reading these days:

Witch Hazel by Gabriela Denise Frank : https://iselemagazine.com/2022/01/15/witch-hazel-gabriela-denise-frank/

Bitch, I am (not) a Mother! By Temi Chukwumah: https://iselemagazine.com/2021/12/21/bitch-i-am-not-a-mother-temi-chukwumah%ef%bf%bc%ef%bf%bc/

Oh Womania by Deepa : https://link.medium.com/j5Unumogaob