This is a once-in-a-lifetime occasion for me: two books being launched in the same month. For someone who usually only has a new book coming out every two years (if that), it’s a very unusual thing to have not one, but two, books being released within a couple of weeks of each other.

Some of you might know that I have an elder sister, Swapna Liddle, who (like me) is an author. Like me, too, Swapna is deeply interested in history. That, however, is where the resemblance ends. Swapna is a much-respected historian and all her books have been well-researched, immensely insightful works on the history of Delhi (her field of specialization is Delhi of the 19^th century). I, of course, primarily write fiction, when I’m writing in the long form: non-fiction, in the form of travelogues, book reviews and film writing, are reserved for short form articles.

This is where we finally come together: in a book about the gardens of Delhi.

We ushered in the New Year this time in Ahmedabad (see my blog posts, on Historic Ahmedabad and on more around Ahmedabad). But Ahmedabad, really, was just on the way—for a place I’d been looking forward to visiting for a while now: the Little Rann of Kutch, which is home to the Wild Ass Sanctuary, India’s largest wildlife sanctuary.

The Little Rann of Kutch is just about 95 km from Ahmedabad along a very good highway, so it can take less than two hours to cover the distance. We had booked a cottage at a resort (in the village of Dasada) named Rann Riders by Kaafila, and had arranged for them to have us picked up from Ahmedabad. Given that we are interested in history, we opted to take a longer route to get to Dasada: through Patan and Modhera, which are home to some of Gujarat’s most iconic historical structures.

Aaye-gaye manzilon ke nishaan
Lehraake jhooma-jhuka aasmaan
Lekin rukega na yeh kaarvaan

(The markers of destinations came and went;
The sky swirled, danced, bent down:
But this caravan will not stop…)

– From ‘Mud-mudke na dekh’ (Shree 420, 1955), lyrics by Shailendra, music by Shankar-Jaikishan. Sung by Asha Bhonsle and Manna De, picturized on Nadira.

What if you were to wake up one morning to find that your life had been switched with that of another? That the people closest to you were all dead, and that the people now claiming to be your friends and family were all strangers, or pretty much so?

This is how Bahaaron ki Manzil begins: with Radha/Nanda (we don’t know who yet; Meena Kumari) waking up one morning. As she stirs, we can hear her mind: she’s happy, looking forward to her wedding—because today is her wedding day. When she gets up, though, she looks down at the tinselly sari she’s wearing, and is puzzled. She doesn’t have a sari like this. And there’s a wound on her forehead…