"Do you know that during the longest and coldest nights of every year, the Gods descend on Earth and come to us like Shooting stars? To quench the never-ending thirst of mankind. For peace and love. To protect and cherish what is left of humanity. And if someday you meet one of Them, you will give Them my love, won't you?" My mother once told this to me. But now I am asking this of you. ********* Niyati Sriniketan, the ordinary girl with a tortured past: a dream that had been crushed, a soul that had been smothered and a life reduced to survival. This is a tale of Love, Loss, Laughter and Life; the story of a girl, whose biggest dream and prayer came true. But, here's the catch, will she make peace with the one thing she had forever deeply yearned for? When her life turns upside down, will she come to terms with herself and this world? Will she move past the choking snares of her past into the arms of Hope and Healing?

Krishna's love in every line. Poems for the heart, by a devotee. This book is a collection of thoughts and feelings written when I was just sixteen. It's raw, honest, and full of youthful energy. Please keep in mind that this is an early work and may contain mistakes. Enjoy the journey of a young mind! *No further updates will be made to this book.*

In a world steeped in tradition, Rukmini Deshpande always revered her namesake, Rukmini Aai Saheb-the bold, kind, and steadfast Mother of the Universe, whose tales of devotion echoed in every abhang and upanyasa. Yet, one aspect of the goddess's story always troubled her: Rukmini Aai Saheb had defied her family's wishes. For Miss Deshpande, family was everything, a bond she could never imagine breaking. But fate, a relentless weaver of destiny, thrust Rukmini Deshpande into an impossible echo of Rakhumai's own dilemma. Now, faced with an agonizing choice, she must decide: uphold the unyielding chains of Binding Honour or seize the perilous, yet exhilarating, Freedom of Love?

The forest, vast and untamed, is my new home-a realm where every shadow breathes magic, and every star whispers of forgotten stories. Torn from the comforts of a palace but never from Ram's unwavering love, I find myself caught between the beauty of the wilderness and the haunting weight of our exile. As I walk beside Ram and Lakshman, my pervasive bond with the forest deepens. The rivers sing to me, the trees shield me, and the winds carry secrets from an ancient world. Yet danger lurks in these enchanted woods, testing our courage and devotion. Through it all, Ram's love remains my anchor, his every word and gesture a reminder that even in exile, I'm a queen, cherished beyond measure. ****** In this book of one shots and short novellas set in the heart of wilderness, amidst celestial sages, mysterious groves, and forces beyond comprehension, Sita discovers the strength of her spirit and the depth of Ram's love. Together, they illuminate the darkness, proving that even in the harshest trials, love and light can prevail.

Bharata is a land where myth, legend, and history sing the melodies of time, past, present, and future. A land that was once home to gods and goddesses is now filled with their legacies, built up over time. Royalties may not rule the country like they once did, but the country still danced to their tunes. Legacies rested on the shoulders of the young royalties of these families, aware yet blissful in their ignorance of the impending doom. As the stars and the moon align, in an unlikely celestial event, the eras of Dwapara and Kali come together. Catastrophe ensues as the lines between the past and present blur to become one. Fates were no longer the same, and destiny was to be rewritten. The history known was rewritten; the past became the present, and the present became the past. Travelling across times, Amrita was one such princess, the scion of the Bharadwajs and Kuruvanshis, the descendant of Guru Dronacharya and Pandava Arjuna. She held the pen to rewrite facts, and with that came the immense responsibility of understanding duty, honour and identity. Amrita needs to navigate not only her role as the scion of the two most prestigious dynasties of the country but also her new role as the Princess of the Kurus, on whose shoulders rested the very history she fought to preserve. Follow the journey of Amrita from a modern royalty to a strategic and influential woman in the history of Bharata only on Aparachita Rajakanya! Sᴛᴀʀᴛ: 30ᴛʜ Aᴘʀɪʟ 2025 Eɴᴅ: TBA

Tharagai, an archaeologist bound by an unseen thread to the Chola past, finds herself drawn into history-quite literally. A forgotten artifact, a whisper of fate, and in the blink of an eye, she stands before Arulmozhi Varman, the prince she has loved across lifetimes. As destiny unravels, war looms, and secrets of the past beckon, Tharagai must choose-embrace the love written in time or fade into history's shadows once more. A tale of love, longing, and a destiny that refuses to be forgotten

The Chozha empire stands unshaken, its power stretching across vast lands and endless seas. But beneath its golden surface, cracks begin to form. Enemies rise from the outside. Traitors lurk within. And a storm of war approaches-one that will decide the fate of an era. Arunmozhi Varman leads his fleet toward battle, facing the Arabic pirates who threaten the empire's dominance. But the prince's true motive remains hidden, buried beneath the tides of war. What is he really fighting for? And what truth lies beyond the battlefield? In Thanjai, Kundavai stands at the heart of a kingdom riddled with deception. Every step she takes could be a step toward ruin-or salvation. Who can she trust when even the most loyal seem to have hidden agendas? A once-trusted warrior turns against his own. What secret drives his betrayal? Is he merely a pawn in a greater game, or the mastermind of a sinister plan? Vandiyathevan, fearless yet hunted, finds himself entangled in a web of lies. Every clue he uncovers leads to more questions. Who is truly pulling the strings, and what is the price of uncovering the truth? And in the shadows, she walks-a woman without a kingdom, without a past, without a name the world remembers. But she remembers. And she waits. What does she seek-vengeance, justice, or something far more dangerous? War is only the beginning. The real battle is for the soul of an empire. This is பொற்காலம்-where history will be rewritten in blood and fire. An imaginary continuation of the great novel ponniyin selvan by amarar Kalki. Disclaimer: This is an imaginary story only and doesn't correspond to any real events.

I was born for him - To be with him, to serve him, to love him. My eyes seek only his validation. My heart beats only for his name. My hands ache to touch only his presence. My feet move only in his direction. My body bends, curves, and surrenders - only under his gaze. They say, "Without devotion, love cannot survive. And without love, devotion cannot be attained." And my devotion for him is untouched, unwavering. My heart is filled with a love that belongs only to him - The one my eyes are forever searching for. As I tied the strings of my anklets-anklets that once chimed with devotion but would ring with destruction tonight-I wrapped myself in silk, coiled my hair, and adorned it with Kanakambaram flowers. But not with love this time. Tonight, they burn with fury. When the forces of destruction shook my city-our heaven, Srirangam-with the invasion of those others, I made a decision. A choice born not from fear but fire: to show them what real devotion is. The power of love. The might of the one who seeks nothing but gives everything. When the army of Delhi Sultanate neared the temple-our divine abode-I knew what to do. I knew no mortal hand driven by violence and greed would be allowed to touch him. To see him. They did not deserve the sight. Not even a glimpse. So tonight, my legs will move. My body will curve. My lips will sing. And my hands-my hands will kill. For those who believe they can rule, who think they can take what was never theirs-I will show them what a dance of destruction truly looks like. Every yuga, when man thinks he is god, my god rises to remind them who the real one is. But this time, he is not alone. He has me. I am Vellayi. The Devadasi of Srirangam. The one they call a living goddess. But to him... I am just his simple love. All my life, I have lived, breathed, and danced for only one. To me, he is everything. My Ranga. © Ival_Nidhi_Writes 2025 All rights reserved.

Syamantaka, the very jewel that once adorned swayam Suryadev. Syamantaka, the very jewel which is a repository of endless riches. Syamantaka, the very jewel that led to Lord Krishna's morality being questioned. The story of Syamantaka is binded to the story of many, Some characterized by fight and some by love, but mostly by greed and deceit. Man have always yearned for more than he has and as history can go, such level of avarice has only resulted in Conflicts, if not war. The Syamantaka episode of the great Epic Mahabharata tells us a tale of a similar conflict. Dive into this story of Syamantaka. The main story is taken from The Mahabharata. I have added scenarios from my own Imagination and it is not intended to hurt anyone's religious sentiments nor degrade the legends. Constructive Criticism is always welcomed and appreciated. Intended Sequel to 'Krishnatmika Rukmini' and second in Ashtabharya Series. I do not Own the picture on the book cover. It belongs to its owner and I do not intent to take it's credit.

She had been the hidden tendon in the tiger's paw, the unseen current steering the royal barge. Wars moved at the flick of her wrist; peace was a thread spun from her silence. Yet when the conqueror's drum fell mute, they did not carve her name in stone. They erased it like a footprint in tidal sand. Five monsoons came, thirsty as desert wolves, and drank the memory of her. The king-hollow idol she had once filled with breath-now sat enthroned, blind to the hands that shaped him. No decree of exile, no funeral chant, not even the mercy of a swift blade. Only the long hunger of a forgotten well, drying under the sun. But Time is a wheel with broken spokes-it does not only crush. Sometimes, it spins backward. She wakes at fourteen, a flame kindled from cold ash. The court's poison-tongued serpents still bask on warm stones, their fangs still sheathed in silk. The dagger that will one day taste her ribs is yet an unborn shadow in the smith's fire. She does not return as the weaver of fates, nor the silent river that nourishes kings. She returns as the lightning splitting the palmyra. As the scorched earth refuses the next seed. As the blacksmith's anvil sang under the hammer. This time, she does not bargain with the storm. This time, she is the storm.