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    You Adored, Me Ignored
    You Adored, Me Ignored
    You Adored, Me Ignored
    Ebook145 pages2 hours

    You Adored, Me Ignored

    By Ambalika Bhat

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    About this ebook

    Anam wants to be...well...Anam. But as an unmarried and unemployed member of the Acharjya family, that is not something she has the liberty to be. Especially when The Clan - as she refers to them insists on living like ministries of a government and is head over heels in love with Polly, Anam's cousin. Not believing in competing with Polly, Anam busies herself with her newfound work at the film festival. Life seems to have settled, until murder strikes, and fingers are pointed - at - who else but Anam.

    Anam finds herself dragged down by the question 'why me?' and in answering it, leaves behind quite a number of broken hearts...and heads.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWisdom Tree Publishers
    Release dateNov 6, 2014
    ISBN9788183283403
    You Adored, Me Ignored
    Author

    Ambalika Bhat

    Ambalika was born during an extraordinary planetary eclipse that had momentarily wiped off the sunshine from her life. When the darkness threatened to take over, she wrote and wrote, and when the eclipse passed, she found that she had authored this book. When she feels that writing needs a break from her, she switches to her other persona, to coach youngsters and help them communicate better.

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      Book preview

      You Adored, Me Ignored - Ambalika Bhat

      cover

      You Adored,

      me Ignored

      Intelligent and irreverent, a young girl’s quest

      To find her space under the sun.

      —Tuhin A Sinha, author of The Edge of Derise

      AMBALIKA

      You Adored,

      Me Ignored

      © Ambalika

      First published 2013

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without the prior permission of the author and the publisher.

      This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any living or dead person or events or places will be entirely co-incidental.

      ISBN 978-81-8328-340-3

      Published by

      Offshoots,

      An Imprint of Wisdom Tree,

      4779/23, Ansari Road

      Darya Ganj, New Delhi-110 002

      Ph.: 23247966/67/78

      wisdomtreebooks@gmail.com

      Printed in India

      This book is the result of a lot of pain and self-love.

      Author’s Note

      In keeping with popular practice, all characters and plots in this book have been created to be neither purely fictitious nor utterly real. They are a combination of both, since otherwise, it would not make sense.

      The goal was to achieve a correct balance between being fictitious and staying real. But in accordance with the natural laws, that has not happened. In some cases, they are more fictitious, less real and in others, more real, less fictitious. In yet more cases, they are too fictitious to be real while in the remaining, they are too real to be fictitious. Needless to say, if this has resulted in strong resemblances to a few people and events, known or unknown, it is inevitable.

      Those happy about it may rejoice and shower me with bouquets. The unhappy and frustrated souls are free to

      courier me the brickbats, which they would have otherwise handed to me personally.

      Till then, all that matters is whatever I have written. So long!

      —Ambalika

      From Anam’s Rugged Pen

      The tale of a temperamental PR executive, whose only ambition in life is to run a quarter to half-a-dozen campaigns, successful or otherwise, and then retire for the rest of her life, is neither a tear-jerker, nor a laughter riot. It’s definitely not a rags to riches story, and not even remotely James Bond-ish or Bridget Jones-ish.

      So, you will ask, why write this story at all and then bother people into reading it?

      Simple: because, unlike with heroes, each of whom finally becomes a bore, losers keep the interest going. Everyone wants to know what happens next, what new calamity is now going to befall these poor creatures.

      That is why you will read this book.

      And my reasons for writing it?

      Maybe I am trying to follow my heart. Or perhaps taking revenge on somebody. Probably, I am a wannabe. Maybe it’s a case of…

      …I don’t know what is it a case of. A case of confusion perhaps.

      It’s scary. Nonetheless, it’s the truth. Confusions are a part of life. Solving them is not, though. At least, not realistically. But everyone wants to be a part of it anyway.

      That is why both you and I have a stake in this—I’ll write and you’ll read. Period.

      —Anam Acharjya

      Disaster in the Air

      JumbleMaps Flight Locator

      Current status: Hovering in the airspace somewhere along the Mumbai-New Delhi route after take-off from the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport, Mumbai.

      ‘Excuse me?’

      It didn’t sound like any of the flight attendants. That gang of cabin crew was done with their drill dance of sensitising us about wearing seat belts, location of the exits, how oxygen masks were going to fall on our heads at any drastic drop of pressure and how to jump out of the aircraft in the unlikely situation of the thing landing on a waterbody. Neither was it the captain from the cockpit. That whole ritual of welcoming passengers aboard and

      giving us technical details of how high we were flying, the temperature and pressure both inside and outside, along with various other blah blah details, had already been completed by whoever was at the helm of affairs on this plane. Nor was it in a tone that demanded a response. But yes, it was irritating. Irritating enough to get an already exasperated me to jerk up from my seat and mutter through clenched teeth, ‘What??’

      The speaker was taken aback, but only momentarily. ‘Err…you look disturbed.’

      Now, I didn’t need such earth-shattering observations about me in mid-flight after what had happened in the past twenty-four hours. It made me curious, though.

      ‘What makes you think so?’ I asked.

      ‘Well…umm…you look so...’

      Nice! Till then, I had been complimented for my looks with plenty of unpleasant adjectives, but ‘disturbed’ had never been one of them. Therefore, I had a general idea about how the world perceived me. Also, to be more specific, I knew people who were ‘disturbed’, and for all my insanity, I was confident that I did not belong to that breed. However, I had apparently been mistaken. Secretly, I became a bit worried.

      Perhaps, it had something to do with my being airborne.

      2 | YOU ADORED, ME IGNORED

      ‘So?’ I asked him, the speaker, to convey who had an upper hand on the matter.

      ‘You shouldn’t be,’ was the prompt reply. That was a relief. It assured me that I seemed ‘disturbed’ only philosophically.

      ‘I know. But sometimes it’s hard,’ I said with the air of the worldly-wise, my self-esteem somewhat restored.

      ‘Lunch for you, ma’am,’ came the voice of the flight attendant. I was glad to get that tray. I have no qualms confessing that I hog on airline food shamelessly. And like I said earlier, considering what had happened in the past twenty-four hours, the meal was welcome by more than the normal measure.

      ‘I have to go to Gurgaon,’ the guy continued.

      ‘Good.’

      ‘Interview with Coca-Cola.’

      I opened my mouth to say ‘All the best’. Instead, I said, ‘You must be in marketing.’

      ‘Yeah! How did you know?’

      ‘I can tell from your face. It’s kind of written all over it.’

      While it appeared to be an intelligent deduction, the fellow didn’t realise that I was actually sneering at him.

      3 | AMBALIKA

      Little did my aerial co-passenger know that my analytical prowess had seldom catapulted me to fame.

      It was meant to be an impolite, rather rude remark. For, I was in no mood for any courtesies. Besides, there is something about marketers. They are smooth talkers, and my fundamental belief is that smooth talkers con you into believing and buying what you don’t want to. I had a feeling this fellow was up to something.

      ‘After reaching New Delhi, how do I go to Gurgaon?’ he asked.

      ‘Aha, so that was it,’ I thought.

      I was irked. As it

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