Bookish Indulgences

14 June, 2013

Unknown June 14, 2013 0

#SpecialFeature :: #Spotlight on The Fox Princess by Charlie Flowers

Now Presenting:

*** SPECIAL FEATURE - June'13 ***

The Fox Princess (The Rizwan Sabir Mysteries) by Charlie Flowers

RIZ IS BACK! AND ON THE WARPATH... Rizwan Sabir returns, on a last-ditch, desperate mission to find his fiancée, dead or alive. Do the Americans have her body? Is she in Gitmo or a "Black Site"? And what is going on with her avatar in cyberspace? Who or what is the Fox Princess? Nothing will get in Riz's way, as to a background of escalating tension and a countdown to a massive right-wing demo, the action takes us from London to Afghanistan, Paris and across Britain. Bad things are going to happen and the only people who can stop them are Riz and his gang...

Read An Excerpt

CHAPTER 12

27th September

‘Final drills. Check weapons. Check air. Aircrew. How long, guys?’ Swallow was speaking in our earpieces. We’d climbed to 24,000 feet and gone to oxygen masks an hour ago as we passed 10,000. And we were still climbing, high above the clouds and out of sight and earshot from anybody on the ground. We were all on pure oxygen from the machine on the pallet as we waited. Breathing pure oxy was to reduce the risk from “the bends”, or nitrogen bubbles forming in the blood, as we climbed to drop altitude.

Aircrew replied in our earpieces in scratchy tones. ‘Twenty minutes. Go to carried air.’

We unplugged ourselves from the pallet and switched to the small oxygen bottles on our belts. The loading bay lights were

dim red, and had been for a while. Swallow and I now began to buckle ourselves together into the tandem harness. It was a good thing he was a big lad, I was basically hanging off him. Damn this rig was awkward. We were going to fling ourselves into the Afghan airspace from four miles up, so high that no-one on the ground could hear the plane, and Swallow was going to do all the steering. We both made sure everything was strapped down tight, AKs made safe, racing jockey goggles on, oxygen masks clipped snugly. We were all wearing insulated jumpsuits made of special radar-absorbent material. A loadie held up a flashcard. That was the signal. The team waddled down the fuselage to the carrier ramp in a close file like penguins. The loadies stood around us, holding cards which they illuminated with red orienteering torches strapped to their heads.

They presented the cards just like in playschool, in a set order to make sure no-one had missed an item. The loadies also checked their harnesses were attached to the webbing on either side of the fuselage. Nobody wanted to fall out of the plane without a chute.

We watched the jumpmaster. The ramp whined open. We shuffled forward until the team was on the edge. I could hear and see nothing but howling blackness. The four turbines roared. Red lights went on on the left and right of the tailgate.

‘Red on! Red on!’ everybody shouted. The lights went green.‘Ready… set…GO!’

We flung ourselves out and off the ramp.

‘Enjoy the ride, Tel’ said Swallow in my headset. Above us, our drogue chute deployed. Around us in the blackness, the other team members would be forming up in a loose diamond pattern around us, watching the tiny glowfly lights on their helmets and grabbing each others’ flightsuits to hold onto that formation. I tried to remember the drills and kept my limbs as straight as

possible in the buffeting air. I looked down and around as the howl of the C130’s turbines faded and was replaced by the

rushing wind. Now I could see a sprawl of lights through the clouds. Maybe Kabul. If it was, that other cluster would be

Bagram to the north. Hello, Afghanistan, here we come, I thought.

At 15,000 feet the diamond formation separated as the team checked their altimeters. Seconds later Swallow’s AOD went and our main chute deployed. THUMP. It was like being on the end of a bungee. We seemed to rush to a halt in the sky and the howl of air stopped. The harness bit into my thighs. Now we would all glide in a series of long curves in the air, down to the landing zone. Above me, I could hear Swallow putting on his nightvision goggles. He’d be looking for the firefly sparks of the other team members’ infra red strobes and watching his chest-harness GPS display, tacking left and right as we went to the little blip of the landing zone, many miles ahead. ‘Got ‘em.’ We trailed down through the night sky, gently forming up into

a stack, Swallow and me on the top and bringing up the rear. I tried to relax and enjoy the ride as Swallow had said. I looked around. It was just past three in the morning local time. The moon had just set. We had a good twenty miles to fly and it

could take over an hour, depending on the winds.

‘Get ready, Tel. Remember the drills.’ The scented ground of Afghanistan was coming up to us, and then it started to rush.

‘Stand by, stand by… bend ze knees…’ I laughed. I raised my arms and gripped his wrists as he got

ready to land. Swallow pulled down on the risers and the chute flared. Below us our packs hit the ground with a small thud on the end of their three-metre line, and then THUMP.

We were down. Swallow ran us forward a few paces and turned so the lines folded around him. He extracted himself from the chute and unstrapped us. First things first. Swallow cleared and cocked his AK, and patted my shoulder. I unstrapped my AK and tore off the protective taping. We both dropped to one knee and tuned into our surroundings. Immediately in front of us the rest of the team had landed in puffs of dust, their packs thudding in ahead of them, and they’d done the drills we had. Their chutes and lines were gathered in and they were facing outwards in a loose semi-circle. And now we waited, waited for the night air to envelop us and ambient noises to return. Nothing.

After five long minutes had passed Swallow and Dinger made slow hand signals and we gathered on them. They took fixes of

our position on their GPS sets. We took off our flightsuits and laid them in a pile along with the parachute rigs, headgear,

goggles, and oxygen masks, and stashed them in a dry culvert nearby. Swallow and Dinger got some brushwood, piled it on,

and then laid down something extra we’d brought with us. Desert camouflage netting liberally dressed with local thorns and leaves over it, that the team had spent a day or two making and painting back at Credenhill. We fussed with it for several minutes then stepped back and checked. Invisible for now. Eventually, the gear would be discovered by an ISAF sweep, but that would be after the event. We walked one hundred metres away, regrouped, and took the time to check each other over. We were all dressed Taliban-style, with turbans and scarves to conceal our faces. We looked at each others’ beltkits and I was shown the first aid pack. We then checked our AKs again and moved out north, beginning the walk to the cache, Bagram, and then our attack point. After an hour’s slow, careful march Swallow held up his hand and we stopped and all dropped to one knee. The team leaders checked with their NVGs, sweeping slowly from left to right.Before us, like a pale ghost in the pre-dawn gloom, was the hull of the wrecked car we had viewed from the overheads.

Swallow came and murmured in my ear ‘we dig the packets in now, under the car’, and then went and muttered the same in

Dinger’s ear. We edged forward to the car body and began digging with two entrenching tools. After ten minutes we had a

good hide - hole and they placed my two kitbags inside and covered them with earth. But not before Dinger placed a two -

kilo PETN explosive charge on top of them and hooked a tripwire into the nearest tyre with some fishing line and hook

attached to a ringpull-fuze. Dinger looked at me and nodded downwards. He had my attention. Any random person investigating this cache would be blown into the stratosphere, and with the amount of unexploded ordnance lying around the Afghan countryside, it would fade into the background. Swallow took another GPS fix, then took a reading on his

Silva compass to be sure and gripped my shoulder. He spoke quietly in my ear again. ‘The cache is 2,110 metres south east of Bagram airbase’s southern fence line corner, heading 2755.5 mils… which is 155 degrees, that’s one-five-five degrees. I’ve

already reversed it for you. When you break out, get a fix, and tab two klicks and a bit south-south east.’

I nodded. We moved out again. Every now and again I turned and walked backwards, to look the way we’d come, burning the terrain into my memory as much as I could. The sky was beginning to lighten in the east.

We walked slowly and carefully north alongside irrigation ditches for half an hour. All I could smell was the pervasive shitstink from the ditches. Ahead of us was a bright glow on the horizon that became a brightly-lit fence line in the distance. An

airport, no less. As we watched, a plane came in to land, blackedout and silhouetted against the base lights.

Swallow spoke. ‘The Emerald City, lads. Here we are.’ He looked at me. ‘Now we start the attack on the Septics,

mate. OK, stay low, here we go.’ We jogged towards the target until we were roughly three hundred metres away. Close enough to cause a ruckus, not too close to trigger alarms.

I handed my AK to Swallow and hit the ground. I knew what was about to go down. The team ran forward in ragged order,

dropped, and opened up on the fence line. I put my hands over my ears to preserve my short-term hearing. Bursts of flame lit up the night. We were go. To my right and left, the RWW guys started shouting fire control orders as they engaged the

watchtowers. I hugged the dirt. They doubled back, in a haze of fire and smoke, as planned, and there I was. The sacrificial goat. I buried my face in the grit and started counting. I counted... and counted. The echoes faded. Like wraiths, they were gone.

And then the noise from the Bagram perimeter started up.

I hugged the dirt. I kept hugging it. Ten minutes later there was an approaching whine, like a mosquito. It got louder. I felt a touch on my shoulder. I rolled onto my back like a good Taliban insurgent. A robot was inspecting me. This would have to be the US Army. A flare fired from the back of the robot, and within seconds an alsatian was standing over me and barking like it was Doggy Christmas. Three minutes later and a Hummer screeched to a halt to my left in cloud of dust. I heard boots. Flashlights settled on me. I winced. A Specialist First Class was standing over me. She said one word as she aimed the Taser.

‘Motherfucker.’

And then the lights went out.

Raves & Reviews

Certainly, Mr. Flowers is not a one-hit wonder! In this follow up to Riz, Flowers kicks this ride in gear and leaves a path of broken bad guys littering the urban and desert roads. ~~ Mubin Shaikh on Goodreads

Telling a story that is both compelling and topical. Styled with meticulous detail. Tautly paced and savagely anarchic. ~~ Saira Viola on Goodreads

Bond is SO last century- Rizwan Sabir is a spy and adventure hero for the age of information. ~~ Magia on Amazon

The quality of the writing and extent of the knowledge of arms, cyber warfare, military operations, and computers makes these books irresistible. They are an absolute joy to read. ~~ Sarah Hague on Amazon

Connect with Charlie

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Giveaway

Charlie has offered to giveaway 2 digital copies of the first book in The Rizwan Sabir Mystery Series, that is Riz. Enter in the rafflecopter below:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

12 June, 2013

Unknown June 12, 2013 1

#GuestPost :: Midnight at the Taj Mahal by Brynn Olenberg Sugarman

Brynn Olenberg Sugarman is a native of New York City, but lives in Ra’anana, Israel. She visited India several years ago and fell in love with both India and the Taj Mahal. After being published in several poetry anthologies and writing the award-winning children’s book, Rebecca’s Journey Home, Brynn went with her feelings about the awesome Taj and wrote Midnight at the Taj Mahal, a Middle Grade/YA time travel adventure. She holds a BA in Creative Writing from SUNY Binghamton, and an MA in English Literature from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Brynn is married with three children (the eldest of which is currently trekking in Northern India!) She also has a gregarious dog and an extremely vocal cat. When she isn’t writing, she teaches ESL to Israeli kids. She adores travel, animals, Indian and East Asian food, and her sun-filled, fun-filled Mediterranean lifestyle. Midnight at the Taj Mahal is the first volume in The Out-of-School Adventures series.

Guest Post

When I first saw the Taj Mahal, I was amazed by its beauty. Being a hopeless romantic, I was likewise mesmerized by the story of Shah Jahan’s love for his wife, Mumtaz Mahal. It begged to be written about, but by a different perspective than the purely historical. I have always been an avid reader. In addition to that, I am intrigued by time travel, and count The Chronicles of Narnia, A Wrinkle in Time, Time and Again, and The Time Traveler’s Wife among my all-time favorite books. I am also a fan of travel, period, so the idea of combining a sabbatical year, where the protagonists encounter intriguing historical facts and exotic cultures, with a mystical twist, drew me in.

My first book, Rebecca’s Journey Home, is about the adoption of my daughter, Rachele, from Vietnam. It is written from a Jewish perspective, and its message is that a person can be many things at once: in this case both Jewish and Vietnamese. It was published by Karben/Lerner, and won a Sydney Taylor Award.

In spite of the success of my first book, when it came time to looking for a publisher for Midnight at the Taj Mahal, I realized that, thanks to the internet, the publishing industry had gone through a radical change in only a few short years. Going Indie was now acceptable, even laudable. In spite of my less than perfect technical skills, I decided to go for it. Amazon’s Createspace/KDP accommodated me and gave me a way to revamp my manuscript into both a paperback and an ebook. Later, I added my book to Smashwords, in order to diversify and reach out to a greater audience.

Of course, the Beatles knew it well when they sang “I get by with a little help from my friends”. My husband, Dov, helped me with the technical aspects, and an old friend of mine in London, Adam Benjamin, was invaluable when it came to both technical know- how, lay-out, website construction, and graphic art.

For my book’s cover, I went on elance and chose an illustrator, Dasguptarts, whose work fit my style vision. He is Indian: somehow there was poetic justice in hiring an Indian illustrator to work on a project about the Taj Mahal. I feel similarly about finding Debdatta, a blogger based in India: the Taj Mahal may be a world heritage site but it specifically belongs to India’s grand history and culture. Although India, in the book, is seen through the untutored eyes of American kids, it includes many Indian protagonists, including one who is Zach and Hailey’s age. I hope that Indian readers will be among those who discover and enjoy Midnight at the Taj Mahal.

Social media has helped me to get the word out about my book: I joined LinkedIn and Goodreads, and made sure that my book has both a Facebook page and a website, midnightatthetajmahal.com.

And now for the story!

Thirteen-year-old twins, Zach and Hailey, are on a trip around the world with their parents, history professors who photograph and write about famous historical sites. First stop? Agra, India!

While Mom and Dad can only scrape at the past, Hailey and Zach dive right into it, by literally plunging into the pool at the Taj Mahal. They are two ordinary American kids on an extraordinary quest. Their Indian driver’s son, the brilliant Sushil, completes the trio. The story also includes Mogul ruler Shah Jahan, builder of the Taj Mahal, and his daughter, Jahanara, as well as a cryptic bookshop keeper, a magical diary, and a series of time-travel feats with fluky consequences. With action-packed sword fights and a mutual crush between Hailey and Sushil, there is something compelling for both genders.

Although the story’s plot is obviously the stuff of fantasy, the Taj Mahal is deservedly one of the world’s towering wonders, and the book demanded careful research. Young readers will gain jam-packed knowledge of the Mogul period in India, and the empire of Shah Jahan, whose agony at the loss of his wife led to architectural grandeur.

As for me, it became clear that Zach and Hailey’s adventures should not end with Midnight at the Taj Mahal. After all, their trip is a whole sabbatical year long. That leaves plenty of time for more time travel destinies and destinations. It was with this realization that The Out-of-School Adventures was born.

Next stop? Jerusalem, Israel!

What are people Saying?

Once you pick up this book you will not want to put it down until you complete the adventure with the characters and even then you will be left with a great want to read the next installment. A must read young adult book for all ages. ~~ Angels R Kids/Furkids on Amazon

While reading about the journey of the kids in the story, we took tangents along the way to learn new things: where India was located, how to get to India from where we live, what the population is, what a rickshaw was, and, of course, time travel. Shhh, don't tell my son the book was educational! ~~ Sharon Farber on Amazon

Many historical novels have bored me but Brynn has written a novel that kept me engaged, and interested. I finished the book rather quickly and I stayed up late to finish it. I definitely recommend that you read this book and I cannot wait to read the next book in the series to be set in Jerusalem. ~~ Melissa on Amazon

Provides an interesting perspective on historical events not familiar to most Western audiences, with the promise of more to come in future adventures for Hailey and Zach. ~~ Jacob on Goodreads

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From Amazon

From Smashwords

11 June, 2013

Unknown June 11, 2013 1

#BlogTour :: #GuestPost on For The Love of Nature by Rahima Warren

Rahima Warren is the author of Dark Innocence: Book One of the Star-Seer's Prophecy, a deep, rich novel of the healing journey. With Master's degrees in Clinical and Transpersonal Psychology, she was in private practice as a licensed psychotherapist for over 20 years. In 2006, Rahima retired to focus on her expressive painting, creative writing, and spiritual studies.
In her work with clients recovering from abuse, she was awed by the human capacity to heal, and to reach new levels of forgiveness, wholeness and happiness. She also learned to trust the psyche's own process. This enabled her to allow a dark and mysterious story to flood forth unhindered: Dark Innocence: Book One of the Star-Seer's Prophecy.
Rahima is a third-generation native of California and resides with her husband in Northern California, where she periodically chases squirrels off the wild bird feeders, and deer away from her roses. Her life-long love of fantasy is her parents' fault: they left sci-fi & fantasy magazines with fascinating cover art lying around the house.

For The Love of Nature

Although the main theme of my book is the inner journey of healing, recovery and transformation, a strong secondary theme is the beauty and healing power of Nature. In fact, one of my motivations for writing my fantasy trilogy, The Star-Seer’s Prophecy, is my love of our Earth and my deep concern for the health of our planet, and an underlying thread in the story is about restoring the balance of Nature.
My love for Nature began early, thanks to my father, who took us camping in gorgeous places every summer, like Yosemite or the Olympic Rainforest in Washington. Not only that, he was a soils scientist and participated in one of the first classes on ecology at a major university. From him, we learned to love and care for the Earth long before it was fashionable. On our summer trips, I remember loving the dusty scent of sun-warmed pine needle duff in the summer mountains; splashing and shivering in cold mountain streams; making a magical doll out of a piece of bark, with green moss for hair.
Many years later, as an adult, I was attracted to the Earth-centered spirituality of Native Americans. I participated in many ceremonies, and went on a number of vision quests. I loved being alone in my chosen spot in the mountains or the desert for three or four days, with no distractions; watching the amazing blaze of stars in the clear darkness of night, getting quiet inside.
My first quest was in the desert. I was expecting to have a big mystical experience and suddenly know the answers to all my questions. Ha! Instead, I ended up battling with tiny mice over my water supply. They were chewing holes in my plastic water jug! I got so concerned about this that I was unable to get quiet enough to be open to any vision or guidance. But Native American wisdom says that Nature is a Mirror in which we can see ourselves. Looking in that Mirror, I saw that I was so concerned with the inevitable miseries of the world, I was forgetting all about enjoying life. How silly of me! I laughed and laughed! For the first time, all seemed right with our miserable, absurd, beautiful world.
When I was writing my trilogy, I naturally wove my love of our Earth into the story. The protagonist, Kyr, learns lessons about life from a flower, and is healed of a life-threatening addiction by the Great Tree and the Tree Warden, a vast and ancient, semi-sentient oak. In hindsight, the following scene seems to be indirectly based on my quest with the mice.

Kyr laid out his bedroll, then stood waiting for Rajani. After a few moments, he snapped, “Let’s get some firewood. It’s getting cold.”
“Look at this splendid sunset!” Rajani swept his arm in a broad arc that embraced the incandescent sky, purple-shadowed mountains with snowcaps glowing an ethereal rose-orange, nearby hills still golden-topped with the last of the sunlight, and a small lake aflame with reflected radiance from the blazing sky. “Can’t you see the wild beauty of all this?”
“What? Oh. Sorry, I’m tired and it’s getting cold.”
“Gods and demons! Take a deep breath, let go of your misery for a few moments, and enjoy this!”
Startled by Rajani’s angry frustration, Kyr obediently took a deep breath, raised his head, and gazed at the sky. As if gray veils were being lifted from his eyes, he began to perceive the rich immensity of the exquisite vista spread out before him, an intangible wealth of gifts.

Has Nature been important to you in your life and/or your writing?

About the Book

The “twin-souled dark innocent,” Kyr, is a youth born and raised to blindly carry out the Soul-Drinker’s brutal commands. At first, Kyr’s one desire is death, the only escape from the Soul-Drinker’s hellish rule. Just when he is about to get his wish, the secret Circle rescues him. Now he has to choose between the familiar easy path of despair and death, or the hard path of healing, living, and a greater destiny, about which he knows nothing. How can a slave who has known only evil, pain and obedience choose to become a man of courage and compassion, and fulfill the Star Seer's Prophecy?

Read an excerpt of Dark Innocence

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From Amazon

Or From Barnes & Nobles

Giveaway

Rahima is giving away prizes, including an e-copy of her book at each blog stop on her tour AND a Grand Prize Giveaway of a Custom Jumbo Tote Bag with your choice of fan art, chosen from here: http://www.starseersprophecy.com/fan-art/, plus other goodies, including a signed copy of Dark Innocence for one lucky winner, shipped to anywhere in the world!

1) To win a book: Leave a comment on this blog post on how nature has been important to you in your life and/or writing to be entered to win a book. Be sure to leave your email address in the comments so we can contact you if you’re the lucky winner. This giveaway ends five days after the post goes live.

2) To win the Custom Jumbo Tote Bag with Rahima’s fan art of your choice, or a signed copy of Dark Innocence, or other goodies.

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10 June, 2013

Unknown June 10, 2013 0

#BookReview :: Seriously Sitara by Nishat Fatima

Sitara Gopalasundaram – single, high-minded, just-over thirty, arts editor of Hommemagazine, with a mop of uncontrollable hair and no time for Bollywood types – is seriously upset.

Commanded to unearth the story behind Bollywood superstud Nasser Khan’s much-talked-about reclusive status, following the break-up of his long-standing engagement to a cinematic bimbette, is nothing short of a nightmare for someone who can’t quite tell her Khans apart.

Things get worse as what she had hoped would be a one-time, never-again, meeting turns out to be the first of a series of strange encounters, as fate keep throwing her back into the arms of Bollywood’s reigning pin-up boy. Blown away by the high octane world of showbiz, Sitara still thinks she can get her life back to its normal humdrum routine. Seriously?

After a particularly long and rough week, I was looking forward to a light and fun weekend. The moment this book landed up on my doorstep, I knew that this was the one that I wanted to read over the weekend.

Let’s start this review with something that is unusual for my reviews - he book cover. Yep! By now you guys know that book covers hardly matter to me. You can give me a book without its cover or a disgusting one, and I’d gobble it up all the same. The cover of the book hardly ever reflects the quality of the story inside. But in this case, when I opened the package, the brightly coloured cover and the fun fonts used on the back, had my attention. Like I said, after the week I have had, the quirky cover immediately put a smile on my face and sealed the deal for the weekend. Sitara’s hair and what I assumed were the contents of her purse is what takes up the cover and coupled with its title makes you feel that it will be a light read. I was ready to say ‘Seriously, Sitara?’ over the weekend in an instant.

Sitara Gopalasundaram hails from a typical middleclass family from Chennai. Her working as an Arts Editor Homme Magazine and living alone in Mumbai had raised quite a few eyebrows. Yet she is an independent woman who is still single at thirty something and she knows what she wants. Well, most of the times. What she doesn’t want is to be set up with innumerable ‘eligible’ bachelors by her parents and Aunt and what she wants is to land up an interview with a leading artist for her magazine. So when her boss sets her up to do the cover story by interviewing the ‘leading’ Khan of Bollywood she is less than thrilled. Nasser Khan is the leading but reclusive star of Bollywood. His recent break up with one of his leading ladies has been the topic of the town. He plans to take a break soon, but before that he has to do an interview and attend an award ceremony. Getting locked up in his hotel bedroom with a haughty journalist wasn’t the part of the plan. Over the next few days, the paths of these polar opposites cross over and over again and they always seem to rub each other the wrong way.

What happens to them is what this story is all about. The storyline is simple and predictable. I mean after reading the back of the book, you know how it is going to end. But reading the story and following Sitara and Nasser’s journey to finding each other was quite an experience. The ups and downs and the misunderstandings made me feel elated and frustrated over the time. And there were couple of ‘Seriously, Sitara?’ moments too. The characters of the story are well developed. Besides Sitara, there are a few characters I really liked. For instance, Naeem , Shiv and Maya often cracked me up. I also liked Ayesha and Bashir, Nasser’s parents.

I have to admit though, following the tested formula for love stories, the plot may not have much to offer. There are few clichéd moments and dialogues and the number of coincidences is a bit too much. But the author’s writing style and the quirks of the characters keep it interesting and fun.

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08 June, 2013

Debdatta Dasgupta June 08, 2013 0

#SpecialFeature :: #Spotlight on Riz by Charlie Flowers

Now Presenting:

*** SPECIAL FEATURE - June'13 ***

Meet Riz. Riz is a "Been There Done That", a veteran of the UK jihad scene. He joined al-Qaeda as a young man, got lifted by Counter-Terrorism Command and then made an offer he couldn't refuse. Now Riz works as a contractor for the shadowy Kinetic Training Solutions Ltd. Riz's new boss is Colonel Mahoney, the man who gives him carte blanche to continue on the street. Mahoney has asked Riz to investigate disturbing new leads coming from the data on the July 7th attacks. Now all Riz has to do is to uphold his connections to his previous groups and his wayward cousin, Bang-Bang Kirpachi, keep an ear to the ground for his employers... and stay alive...

Read An Excerpt

CHAPTER 12

In Rainham the party was in full swing. Holly’s mum was chuffed I’d brought her errant daughter round, and she’d got the pans out to cook for us. In Asian families, there is no escaping this. You stayed, and you ate the damn somosas.

‘Rizwan, pay attention beta. Watch!’

Mrs Kirpachi rapped the back of my hand with the ladle she was holding. She was a small, pretty, birdlike lady, just like her daughter. I had to behave myself as I was now in her kitchen and thus, her domain.

And her domain was suffused in the smell of chopped onions, garlic, curry powder, and fresh coriander from her garden.

‘You will learn how to make this family’s vegetable and cashew somosa recipe. Listen.’

Her hands started moving over the ingredients. This was the bit you couldn’t get tired of, my Mum was like this too. Ingredients seemed to magic themselves into the pan for them. Mrs Kirpachi and my Mum weren’t just relatives, they hadn’t just come from the same village in Kashmir, they’d come from the same street.

‘Boil potatoes in water till slightly soft. You add the peas. Cook till potato has softened fully, drain and season. Heat oil in frying pan, add onions, fry till golden brown, add the spices, ginger, potato peas, cook gently, gently. Riz are you listening?’

I was. Nowhere else to go.

‘Remove from heat. Slightly mash the pea and potato filling. You stir in the cumin and cashew nuts, and a handful of chopped coriander. You see? You see, beta? Easy, even for you. Ha hah.’

She tapped my cheek and went to work on the pastry.

I had homework. I borrowed Holly’s netbook, remembered that her password was “bl0odbl0odblood!”, logged into the family wifi and got online. Her netbook was a strange, customised thing- it ran Linux and she’d taped black masking tape over the net camera, as she was convinced that they could be turned on remotely by the bad guys. The Tor browser was also customised to run Firefox and the Tails encryption programme. I hated Firefox.

I logged onto Flash Earth, typed in “Thames Barrier” and soon had myself an overhead satellite view of the barrier and the environs. Now I needed to find those red and white buildings. I swiped the touchpad and let the map roll lazily south for a bit. City airport… A13… there. That looked like it was them, three buildings, evenly spaced just on the arterial.

OK. Now I had to get graphical. I hit ctrl/print screen and dropped the screengrab into CorelDraw. Here was where a bit of guesswork came in. I Bluetoothed the original photos over from my phone to the netbook and set them up on the right hand side of the screen. You could see the Barrier on the half-left, and those buildings on the right. So…

In CorelDraw I drew two red lines, one down from the Barrier, and another down from the buildings, thinking of a vanishing point. The lines intersected south of the river east of Woolwich, near HMP Belmarsh. Interesting.

I now had a hunting ground.

I wandered back into the kitchen and got busy chopping coriander. Mrs Kirpachi was stirring onion gravy. Apropos of nothing she asked

‘Beta. What is my daughter doing these days, for a job?’

‘Graphic design? I have no idea, Mrs Kirpachi.’

Mrs Kirpachi turned while drying her hands and gave me a long, hard look.

‘Rizwan. You are family and you are meant to be looking after my daughter, who is still, in case you have forgotten, engaged to be married to you. But I get the impression that you are not looking after her. I think she is looking after you’.

She turned away. Well that was me told.

There were some sharp snaps, like suppressed pistol fire, from the back garden. What the hell was she up to? Mrs Kirpachi started rattling rapid-fire Urdu in the direction of whatever her miscreant daughter was doing. I walked out onto the veranda. Holly was firing an air pistol in the air and birds were scattering.

‘Bloody magpies. Yahan ao bhai, dekho na.’

Come, cousin, look at this, she was saying. She took my arm and steered me to the cherry tree at the back.

‘See? The bird nests. The bastard magpies are after the chicks.’

I couldn’t see a thing. I looked at the air pistol.

‘Is that loaded?’

‘Oh, no. I couldn’t actually kill a magpie. They’re such pretty birds.’

As we stood there, some of the garden’s other wildlife returned. Order was restored. Holly linked her arm in mine and leant her head on my shoulder. Mrs Kirpachi’s garden was a work of art. Suddenly the fattest woodpigeon I had ever seen flopped down onto the patio and began pecking at bread. We both burst into giggles.

‘Would you look at that thing! It’s the size of the Hindenburg!’

The woodpigeon pecked away regardless. Mrs Kirpachi yelled at us from the kitchen.

Raves & Reviews

A rip-roaring; peddle to the metal; roller-coaster joyride of a read, intrigue, plots, girls, guns and mayhem. Flowers knows his stuff backwards - and it shows... the attention to detail is superb! ~~ Says Tamsin on Goodreads

Gripping. A great Spy Thriller, I couldn't put it down. Some fantastic and engaging characters, and I was left wanting the next book as soon as possible, to see what happens next! ~~ Says Ruth on Goodreads

RIZ is a surreal dive into a world that exists but you possibly wouldn't want to go to. More please! ~~ Says Farzana on Goodreads

Trivia about Riz
~ The character of Holly Kirpachi is based on the French cartoon character Gaston La Gaffe. ~
~ Riz contains the first appearance in fiction of Google Layer glasses. ~
~ The portable PS2 console described on page 96 is real, but extremely rare. Only 3 or 4 people make them. ~
~ The bomb-making and disarming procedures described at the book's end are real. DON'T try them at home. ~
~ Riz's birth surname is "Haq", which is Urdu for "Truth". ~

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Giveaway

Charlie has offered to giveaway 2 digital copies of the first book in The Rizwan Sabir Mystery Series, that is Riz. Enter in the rafflecopter below:

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07 June, 2013

Debdatta Dasgupta June 07, 2013 0

#BookReview :: Arjuna: Saga of a Pandava Warrior – Prince by Anuja Chandramouli

Arjuna is the immortal tale of one of India's greatest heroes. These pages retell in riveting detail the story of the Pandava Warrior-Prince who has captured the imagination of millions across centuries. This is the intense and human story of his loves, friendship, ambitions, weaknesses and follies, as well as his untimely death and revival, his stint as a eunuch, and the innermost reaches of his thoughts. Told in a refreshingly modern and humourous style and set against the staggering backdrop of the Mahabharata. Arjunas story appeals equally to the average, discerning reader and the scholar. It spans the epic journey from before his birth, when omens foretold his greatness, across the fabled, wondrous landscape that was his life.

Dabbling with Indian Mythology is in and you will not hear me complain about it. Indian Mythology has always interested me. It started with my mother and grandmother telling me stories as a child and the interest still continues. And you have to admit that they are much more appealing than the not-so-heart-warming-love-stories that have flooded the market. I mean it is not really difficult to choose between titles like ‘Of Course I Love You! Till I Find Someome Better’ and ‘Arjuna: Saga of a Pandava Warrior – Prince’… I’d choose my warrior prince every single time.

‘Arjuna’ is a character from Mahabharat that has always intrigued me. I mean his dedication to the art of archery is really commendable. He had me at the incident when during his lessons he saw only the bird’s eye instead of everything else like those around him. So, while picking up this book, I had really high expectation from it.

Anuja Chandramouli has expertly woven in the story of Arjuna’s life in this novel with her crisp language and smooth flow of writing. The chapters were clear and each complete in its own right. It was almost easy to imagine that I was reading a series of short stories relating to the same cast. Yet they connected and complimented each other very well to form a novel that can claim some acclaim.

The problem that comes when you are playing with such mythological characters is the fact that these characters have always been a part of our lives and we all feel that we know them, be it through the school curriculum or through B.R.Chopra’s Mega serial. Picking up a book about him, I already had an image of Arjuna in my mind. The author here has stuck to portraying Arjuna as we all know him. The stories narrated are also the ones that we have always known about him. She has stuck to the original version and has only added interesting bits of titbits here and there. Though that fact made it more comfortable for me to read the book, I couldn’t help but wonder if there could have been more to the book had the author chosen to take a different approach. I wanted more!

Overall, it surely made for an interesting and entertaining read.

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06 June, 2013

Debdatta Dasgupta June 06, 2013 1

#BookReview :: Polka Dots, Pony Tails and Purple Pouts by Amrita Anand Nayak

Leena, Tia and Jasmine, each have a past that has made them what they are and which still continues to cast a shadow on their lives as far as love and relationships are concerned.

Life is good when you have a loving life-partner, but it's even better when you have dear and dependable friends. For Leena, Tia and Jasmine, life has plenty of struggles in store but also plenty of cheers and smiles along the way as they journey together.

It’s a story of three friends, who are also room-mates, as they live their lives and face various situations and difficulties. First is Tia, the Polka Dots represent her in the title of the story. She is a fashion crazy girl who is but introvert b nature. She loves her Polka Dotted dress as it was the one dress she was wearing when Sam first ‘noticed’ her. Then comes Jasmine – the Purple Pouts of the title. She is lively, trendy and flirty who parties hard to live life to the fullest. But behind her various short term relationships, lies the secret Jerry – her first love. Lastly, but by no means the least, is Leena. Pony Tails of the title represents her simply because she loves to wear her hair in a Pony Tail. She is Daddy’s little girl who always falls for older men.

Behind the smokescreen of these three lively girls, lie their story of love, betrayal and hurt. As the story uncovers their lives, the readers are taken on a globe-trotting and heart touching journey of these three girls who are similar yet so different from each other. They live through the roller coaster rides of their lives with the help of the love and support of each other. Leena’s dedication to her recovering alcoholic father, Tia’s fight for her love and Jasmine’s first love all became a part of my life as I turned each page.

Character wise, I have to say that all the three protagonists are well developed and distinct. There are few side characters that also play an important role. You’ll love them and be irritated of them, yet you’ll feel compelled to be a part of their lives. The plot is simple and easy to relate to. We all have had people in our lives who could play the parts of Polka Dots, Pony Tails and Purple Pouts well enough. Amrita has also managed to keep the flow of the story smooth with appropriate amount of humour, drama and emotions. She has created a perfect reflection of the modern Indian women who may often stray away from the traditional mould, yet are inspiring.

It’s an entertaining read that I would suggest the chic-lit fans to give a try.

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The book was received as part of Reviewers Programme on The Tales Pensieve.

03 June, 2013

Debdatta Dasgupta June 03, 2013 2

#BookReview :: Run for Your Life (Michael Bennett #2) by James Patterson

A man who calls himself 'the Teacher' is devising a meticulous plan. Cold-hearted and cunning, it is time for everyone to learn his name as he teaches New York a lesson it will never forget.

Intent on exacting revenge and causing mass hysteria, he embarks on the worst killing spree the city has ever seen. The whole New York Police Department is tested to its limits; none more so than Detective Michael Bennett as the Teacher leads him on a terrifying chase that brings danger perilously close to home.

The first thing that hit me about this book is the cover. One look at it and ‘Bruce Willis’ is all I could think of. Needless to say, after that I kept getting mental images of Bruce Willis as Michael Bennett throughout the book which only made it more fun to read.

In this instalment, we realise that a criminal, who calls himself ‘Teacher’ is kidnapping the rich & influential kids to teach them manners. Well, he is not just kidnapping but is also murdering his victims in order to send a message through to the society. When the police department is thwarted by the Teacher, they bring in Michael Bennett into the case. A widower with bunch of adopted kids, Michael Bennett is a typical James Patterson protagonist. Tough and intuitive, Michael Bennett steps in and takes things under his control. Trying to figure out the Teacher’s MO, Michael Bennett soon finds himself in a spot where someone near to him is under threat.

The novel is typically a James Patterson Novel that has small but action packed chapters. It is a page turner, giving glimpses of Michael Bennett’s personal & professional life, as well as a peek into the psych of the antagonist. Of course the protagonist is a kind of person you would love to cheer for and so while Michael is on the chase and closes down on the antagonist, I found myself biting my nails into oblivion.

In recent times, James Patterson has often fallen short of living upto my expectations from him. But this book was one of those that reminded me why I am such a James Patterson Fan. Good One!

Find out more about the Author & his Titles :: Click Here

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01 June, 2013

Debdatta Dasgupta June 01, 2013 1

#SpecialFeature :: Introducing Author Charlie Flowers

Under "Special Feature" every month I feature a Special Author.

During this month I put up 4/5 posts about the Author/Book, including Interview / Review / Excerpt / Guest Post / Author Bio / Fun Facts or whatever else we can come up with. Also on the first day of the month we will launch the Giveaway contest along with the first post and will announce the winner on the last day of the month.

So be sure to check out my blog every 1st, 8th, 15th, 22nd and 29th of every month for something new :)

Now Presenting:

*** SPECIAL FEATURE - June'13 ***

Meet Charlie Flowers

Charlie Flowers was born in Eastern Europe sometime in the late Sixties and arrived with his family in Britain in 1975. After training as a journalist in London he had a varied career as reporter, roadie, truck driver and record label boss. In the late Nineties he formed two cult bands, and is currently an adviser on terrorism and extremism to certain departments and think tanks. His day job is transport manager at a specialist logistics firm.

Check out the Books

Rizwan Sabir - ex al-Qaeda jihadi, now a fixer for a shadowy branch of the Ministry of Defence.
Holly "Bang-Bang" Kirpachi - hard-bitten girl gang leader.
Their marriage will be the social event of the season!
But their wedding celebrations are interrupted by a series of murders in the East End of London. Someone is emulating the Ripper, and a beleaguered Home Office attaches Riz and Bang-Bang to the case. Whitechapel is simmering with tension. Can they catch the killer before it boils over? And are there other, darker forces at work?

What are People Saying...?

'RIZ absolutely rocks! There are two kinds of thriller-writers: the ones who research it and the ones who live it. And every line of RIZ reeks with the raw authenticity of a writer who knows first-hand what the hell he's talking about, and isn't just making it up like the rest of us. Brilliant stuff. And you can quote me on all of that.'

TOM CAIN, bestselling author of the Sam Carver Series

'The most realistic account of undercover ops in the context of Islamist terrorism yet written.'

Mubin Shaikh, counter-terrorism consultant and former covert operative, Canadian Security Services

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Giveaway

Charlie has offered to giveaway 2 digital copies of the first book in The Rizwan Sabir Mystery Series, that is Riz. Enter in the rafflecopter below:

a Rafflecopter giveaway