A storm was brewing and the choppy Hooghly water was making the boat sway wildly. Suddenly the wind rose like a gale and a strong gust lifted the rear up dangerously. Sarada screamed as she saw her husband lose balance and topple over into the turbulent waters. Two of the boat crew dived into the serpent like water swirls but Deb had vanished out of sight. Pandemonium broke out on the deck, Screams, heavy running, orders being bellowed, anxious eyes peering into the extending darkness. By the time, Deb could be rescued and pulled out of the waters he had almost drowned. The incident shook up everyone in the boat; most of all Sarada Devi.
Snippet: Debendranath Tagore, referred as Deb in the above excerpt was the son on Bengal entrepreneur and industrialist Dwarkanath Tagore.Deb had no interest in his father’s business empire and found his calling in spirituality. As the founder of the Brahmo religion ( known today as Brahmoism), he became famous as a religious reformer and Hindu philosopher in his own right.
Debendranath was the father of Bengali poet and Nobel Laureate Rabnindranath Tagore.
Debendranath Tagore features in the story ‘The Chronicler of the Hooghly’, part of my forthcoming book of the same name, which is scheduled to release this month (February ’21). For updates, do visit
I had the privilege of being interviewed about my forthcoming book, ‘The Chronicler of the Hooghly and other stories’ by another author recently.
My interviewer was Sharon Swathi Gaddala, the author of, ‘I chose at 18 – True Chronicles on my choices, career and love’. Apart from being an author, Sharon is also a Life Coach with the vision-
‘Become a better person than yesterday, simply because you can. You will leave this world and your loved ones, some day, until that day, be happy, live and keep getting better at it !! This is a one time shot, gotta nail it!’
Anjan and Jaya were sitting on one of the lovely grassy visitor areas on the Muscat beachside. A gentle soothing breeze was blowing. Two boys were jumping with joy as the Chinese lantern released by them floated higher. Few families were huddled around portable barbeque stands and the occasional aroma of the grilled meat was overpowering. Ayan was running around with a frisbee. All three of them in fact had just played an invigorating game of frisbee. Now out of breath Anjan and Jaya had begged Ayan for half an hour’s relief to which he had reluctantly agreed.
“Would heaven be something like this Anjan?” mused Jaya. “If only we could be sitting here for ever and ever”.
“Hmm, yes enjoy it while it lasts”, replied Anjan gazing up at the star filled sky. He lowered his eyes towards the darkness of the sea in front. “Look at those bluish phosphorescent patches on the waves breaking on the shore. Did you know that these patches are created by millions of tiny marine creatures?”
Anjan had almost failed to notice a small huddled figure slowly come out of the foaming waves. The figure seemed to be beckoning to him.
Snippet : The public beach close to Al Khuwair and Qurum is beautifully sandy, clean and a beach goer’s paradise. There is a raised continuous walkway parallel to the sea face. One may sit on wooden bemches or plonk down on the grassy atolls wirh a coffee and snacks and watch a beautiful sunset. It remains a preferred place for Barbeque get togethers with family and friends.
The bluish Bioluminescence in the Arabian sea waters is a fairly recent phenomenon and some attribute it to climate change . This is attributed to a plankton like species nicknamed ‘sea sparkle’.
Muscat beach features in the story, ‘Fault Lines’, part of my forthcoming book ‘The Chronicler of the Hooghly and other stories’ which is scheduled to release in February ‘21. For updates, do visit
Like a beast awakening, the British Howitzers and cannons roared to life. The searing flame moved from right to left as the guns fired in sequence. Ram Prasad saw the charging infantry getting mowed down as he saw the General himself getting hit and toppling from the horse.
“Charge!” Ram Prasad heard his own voice calling. He saw his men as they rose from behind the embankment and moved forward. The unforgiving howl of the British guns erupted again and he saw his brave men falling all around him.
But why was a large part of the Bengal army not moving? He felt a searing pain in the left shoulder and then in the abdomen. Blood erupted from his body, he had been hit. But still, the main flank of the army remained stationary. Indeed, they seemed to be mute spectators of the massacre.
The Battle of Plassey was a decisive victory of the British East India Company over Nawab Siraj Ud Daulah of Bengal on 23 June 1757.The battle took place at Palashi on the banks of the Hooghly River, about 150 kilometres north of Calcutta and south of Murshidabad, then capital of Bengal.The outcome of the battle was to change the history and shape of things to come for ever not only for India, but as some say, for the world, in terms of ascendancy of the British Empire.
The battle of Plassey features in the story ‘The Chronicler of the Hooghly’, part of my forthcoming book of the same name.
The tonga wallah had duly arrived and was waiting near the door when accompanied by shrieks of joy, Niren and Suren ran out with Roma toddling behind. Both the boys were scampering to get up on the front seat of the Tonga before the other; this gave a vantage view of not only the road ahead but also the horse and this led to a huge competition of who will sit in the front. Along with the tonga wallah, Sujit could sit with only one of the children. Usually, it would be one of the more vociferous boys.
“Niren! Suren ! Behave yourself. Do not leave your sister behind like this”, admonished Sujit, as he came out of the quarter. “Today, Roma will sit with me in the front”.
Snippet: The ubiquitous tonga-wallah and his tonga remained on the Delhi roads for more than a century till in 2011, the Municipal Corporation of Delhi banned their services. The ‘clip-clop’ sound of the horses’ hooves is no longer heard on Delhi roads!
The tongawallah and the tonga feature in the story, ‘Ashtami’, part of my forthcoming book ‘The Chronicler of the Hooghly and other stories’. Should you wish to receive exclusive previews and the chance of winning a free copy of the book, do write to me @ email@example.com
Admitted to the hospital with severe injuries from a gas explosion, Anjan keeps meeting Savio, a friend from his childhood. In the interactions, Savio holds up the moral mirror for Anjan to come face to face with the private demons from his past.
The explosion unearths a long lost letter which explodes his relationship with his wife Jaya.
“From Jaya’s diary: What do you say when all that which gave meaning to your life lie broken and anguished in the space-time continuum which was once your own?”
Fault Lines is part of my forthcoming book, ‘The Chronicler of the Hooghly and other stories’. Should you wish to receive exclusive previews and the chance of winning a free copy of the book, do write to me @ firstname.lastname@example.org