Hi!

Thanks for landing here.

Allow me the liberty of sharing things about me in the most pertinent and honest way. Though, I do plan to keep a fig leaf or two!

As this is being self-published and all my doing, I get the honours of introducing myself. Not that there is a long queue of people who want to do it — it's just that who would write about me!!??

But do not stress… all is not lost. This gives me an opportunity to write in the first-person. Oh man! How I missed it… my own voice!

So here it is, the most pertinent aspect to be shared about me: how, when and what made me a writer. Not just the run-of-the-mill stuff — family, work, place of residence etc. The real stuff.

First off let's talk about English — the language. You say what is there to talk about it? A lot! You see, my English teacher in 5th grade threw my notebook out of the door and as it glided on the floor in circular motion pages from the left made an eerie tango with ones on the right. It was most cinematic. I still dream about it. Not nightmares, but dreams. Why? Because I still believe it was not the language but the handwriting — which is pathetic till date. So, I give full marks to myself for the language… only if I had that pearly handwriting that Jyotsna had. My awe at the floating notebook was shattered with a slap on my face. Do not worry — she was frail and could not hit hard.

Not everything was lost, as another character in my life — my eldest brother — had the great influence on my reading. He is too good to be true. He started reading Hardy Boys at the age of 5! And that's how I fell into the trap of reading. Hardy Boys and Nancy Drews and all, at around age 10. Then the first deep and real encounter was with The Adventures of Tom Sawyer! In the later years when I discovered Mr. Twain's book on Shakespeare — "Is Shakespeare Dead?", I was floored. What a flow. What language. Unabated, honest and the rhythm! Read it if you find it.

In ensuing years, I read, and was hugely influenced by Leon Uris, Dominique Lapierre, Ayn Rand, Robert Ludlum, Michael Crichton, Isaac Asimov, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Louis L'Amour, Margaret Mitchell, P G Wodehouse, Gerald Durrell and more.

You will see the influence of these greats on whose foundations I learned. P G Wodehouse for humour, Ayn Rand for characters, Leon Uris and Dominique Lapierre for landscaping.

Most significant impact has been by Louis L'Amour for depicting the lay of the land — so to say. I have read all his books except a few in the Sackett series. And, last but not the least, the inspiration of detective series is from Mr Erle Stanley Gardner's Perry Mason series. I have read almost the complete series.

You will read the influence of Michael Crichton and Mr. Isaac Asimov in the second book — The Synchronicity!

So, you see, my contribution is just 1% — the plot. The rest is by all of the above. You cannot go wrong with that sort of backing. Can you?

I stopped reading fiction once I started writing — for the fear of getting influenced by plots, characters and voice. The last contemporary Indian fiction I read before that self-imposed embargo confirmed what I already sensed — that Indian storytelling had found a voice entirely its own, confident enough to stand anywhere in the world. The Orange Diary is my attempt to contribute to that.

I started narrating stories much before I started writing. Telling nightly stories to my lovely daughters. As they have just 3 years of age difference I was able to weave something that targeted both the audiences. Now, for once — just once — let me brag a little. The story, about "A Witch and a King with Magic Sword, Ring and a Shroud" was so compelling that even I was surprised by it as it went along. The influence of all the great authors was playing it out. My daughters and I were so addicted to it that we continued it even during my foreign travels — on the phone. Every night. I cannot say for certain about them, but I was afraid to lose the rhythm and the plot!

So this is the first stuff I started writing. "Started writing" to be noted. Just started. Never finished.

In parallel, I was fixated on parallel worlds. Much before Marvel woke up and brought its stories on screen. I also started writing that. Again, note "started writing".

Then Mumbai happened.

I landed in "Amchi Mumbai" in June 2008 and stayed till late 2012. I lived alone and had my bike. I was residing in The Rose Cottage in Chuim Village. For the uninitiated, Chuim is a Koli village squished between Bandra and Khar-Danda.

The Rose Cottage was built during the British era and had Minton tiles, old-knobby-brown switches and other vestiges of the age. Early mornings at 4am have a quality I have not found anywhere else. Mumbai at that hour is not asleep — it is between worlds. The streets belong to nobody and everybody.

On early mornings on weekends, around 4am, I used to ride from Bandra through Malabar Hills, down Marine Drive, past Colaba and the docks, all the way to Chembur, looping back through Andheri. During the day I would ride around Bhindi Bazaar, Kalbadevi, Crawford Market, Colaba and more. I was drinking it all in. Eating it all in. All of it.

To be partially honest, I did meet a foreigner in Leopold on one of those rainy days. Had beer. And that was the beginning of The Orange Diary. Andrew came and stayed. Then came the others — Sanjana, Sajid, Inspector Mukund and all of them.

And… I haven't forgotten the run-of-the-mill stuff. Here it is.

I live in Bangalore with my lovely wife… psst… do not tell her I said that! My two lovely daughters who, numerically, are well out of their teens, do not behave as such. They still fight. At the time of writing this they are still at it — silently. That's the hallmark of their face-offs. No blood, no late-night rush to hospital emergencies, no scars. What will they remember!? Me — I still have scars on my face — testimony of all the love I have received from my brothers and cousins! Dang! How can I forget them — ever?

But both are not in Bangalore — birds have left the nest, sort of. So, it does get lonely. But, then we have each other to mess with!

We had a third daughter we adopted. Mishri. She was a special one needing constant help and support. She passed away due to lung cancer that could not be operated. We all miss her so so much, with a huge gash in our hearts that has not healed even with the passage of time. She lived for all of about 7 years and 5 months in canine years but seemed like an eternity to us.

I think all of us have some such void to fill. Hope all of us get peace. I thought keeping engaged in writing will help. It has not. Should I get another four-legged companion? Should I?