An Autograph For Anjali
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Editorial Review 1:
Rubina Ramesh (Author of soon-to-be published romance FINDING THE ANGEL & contributing author for MARIJUANA DIARIES):
Author Sundari Venkatraman conquers the hearts of women by depicting woman in all her glory. A mysterious beginning, a thread of romance and a roomful of drama, all will keep you glued to the pages. The Bold and the Beautiful - as the characters make their paths, crisscrossing each other’s lives to reach one destination; a destination which might destroy the lives of the members of the Mathur Family.
Ms. Venkatraman’s novels always show the female protagonist as an emerging power. From their lowest point they rise like the phoenix till they become trendsetters. Anjali lives up to this trend. A quiet firebrand who is not afraid to face her desires, stand up against her husband’s tyranny and above all, is a woman in all her glory. Anjali is a celebration of womanhood. She will slowly creep into a reader’s mind. Ms. Venkatraman has come up with a few shockers in this one.
Editorial Review 2:
Devika Fernando (Author of many romance novels (http://www.amazon.com/Devika-Fernando/e/B00ISH0RD2):
The story starts with a bang – almost literally, as there’s a murder to be discovered and discussed. What follows didn’t read at all like the romance novels I was used to by the author for a while, but it did capture my attention and hooked me. Keeping in mind that this is a stab at romantic suspense, I found the beginning almost perfect in hindsight (yes, I read it again after I had finished the book, just to see it all in a different light). The author set up the stage, introduced the main characters and threw in the tiniest inkling of the romance to come, like a bee buzzing against a window. And that window was thrown wide open when I entered a sort of flashback and finally found out more about Anjali and Parth.
Speaking of the main characters – the couple and another ‘couple’ – I am full of praise. Being an author myself, I love reading about authors, and Parth was no disappointment. His mix of intelligence, insistence, to-die-for looks and calm confidence really drew me in. As for Anjali, she reminded me of a duckling (not ugly) waiting to burst forth into a glorious swan. Her strength, intelligence and determination were always palpable, yet in a more subdued way. And I loved her attitude and behaviour towards her son Arjun and her husband Jayant.
As for Arjun, he was like a refreshing breeze throughout the book. Fanning the flames when needed, becoming a whirlwind at some times, cooling down and soothing at other times. Jayant was just the right antagonist. I loved hating him, though at times I have to say I couldn’t even hate him. He struck me as a cliché personified, as a canvas for portraying all that’s wrong with society. The story was fast-paced, brisk and to the point, lingering just at the right moments while only scratching the surface at other moments.
Jayant Mathur is found murdered in his bed, shot at point-blank range with his own revolver. Though she’s extremely disturbed by his death, Jayant’s wife Anjali is way more upset about something else. Who stands to gain by killing the multi-millionaire businessman?
Parth Bhardwaj is a friend and neighbour of the Mathurs. Parth is an author who goes by a pseudonym. He appears more than a friend to Anjali; while he’s also on good terms with her son Arjun who lives and studies in the UK. What role does he play in Anjali’s life? Jayant’s relatives are curious to know.
Jayant’s brother-in-law Rana is convinced that Parth and Anjali are the murderers. But Inspector Phadke has his own doubts about this theory. In comes Samrat, the private detective who appears as quiet as a mouse. Will he be able to find the murderer?
Will Anjali find happiness and peace?
favourite Thai curry and steamed rice,” she had said before leaving. Sita hadn’t given any thought to the situation. The high society couple lived like that only. Who was she to judge them! But what she hadn’t expected was for Jayant to walk in at night to ask for his wife. Didn’t he know that she had gone out? Sita wasn’t stressed about her mistress’s safety; just how her boss would react. He had a bad temper. What would he say if Sita told him that Anjali madam wasn’t home? Well, she
Unable to recall the birth of her younger sister Nandita, Smita had been fascinated by the newborn. She adored him from the moment their mother introduced the two of them. Brother and sister – in fact, all three Mathur siblings – had been very close. Jayant dying at the young age of forty-seven; that too in such a gruesome fashion – Smita couldn’t digest it at all. She felt choked. While she nodded and shook her head to the conversation around her, she registered none of it. The siblings had
husband’s? “Hold that thought,” said Parth, as if he could read her mind. “I know enough about you and your marriage to Mathur to understand that you have always remained loyal to him. And I respect you too much.” Her brown eyes connected with his silver gaze then. “Parth, I... I don’t quite know what came over me. I...,” she bent her head, feeling ashamed of herself. How could she crave Parth’s kisses so? “There’s nothing abnormal about what you are feeling Anjali.” His hand caressed
its destination. I cleaned and served at small restaurants. Then with the help of some foreigners, I managed to get a menial position on one of the foreign ships and sailed away, never looking back.” Anjali nodded her head again, no words coming out of her mouth. “One thing I always loved was reading. I used to work most of my waking hours; but made it a point to read at least 2-3 hours every day. I foraged the library on board the ships I worked. Reference books, dictionaries, thesaurus,
his way out. She followed him almost immediately after and the two went to the company’s service apartment to spend some quality time together. Jayant wallowed in self pity as he complained non-stop about his errant and shrewish wife; how she refused to respect her husband, not understand his needs, so on and so forth. Seema nodded her head in understanding. He was glad that he had found a sympathetic shoulder to cry on and continued in the same vein as they drank peg after peg of scotch.