By training I am a Cosmetic Dentist and Implantologist — a profession I have pursued for over two decades. But somewhere beneath the clinical precision lived a writer who had been quietly waiting. For years, professional commitments and family life kept that voice buried, until one day I simply decided to let it out. What began as an outpouring of long-carried thoughts shaped itself into characters, plots, and stories. That is how Afterlife was born — the first of a four-part series. Imperfect Lives and The Battle Ahead followed. Writing remains a work in progress for me — a space where I continue to evolve with everything life brings my way. It is both my refuge and my deepest connection to the world.

  From a deeply personal place. I was born in Jammu & Kashmir. For years, the implications of Article 370 didn't affect me — I was married to a resident of the state. But when my daughter came of age, one question struck me hard: would she be entitled to the same rights if she married outside the state? For me, it was never about inheritance. It was about dignity. That question became the seed for the book.

 Most accounts of Jammu and Kashmir are either academic or biographical — important, but not always accessible. My intention with The Battle Ahead was to present this complex history as fiction: emotionally gripping, reader-friendly, and honest. The story follows Srishti, a young woman who does not realise the inequality embedded in her own constitution until it threatens to define the limits of her life. Through her journey, the book explores the struggles of border communities, the disenchantment of West Pakistan Refugees, and the silent suffering of displaced Kashmiri Pandits. At its core, it questions what we have been taught to accept as official history — and asks why so much of it was never written down at all.

  How much of what we accept as history is incomplete. While researching The Battle Ahead, I encountered significant omissions — whole narratives that never made it into textbooks, passed quietly from one generation to the next. It made me question the versions of events I had grown up accepting. I believe our historians, as custodians of our social and cultural memory, owe us a more honest picture of the past.

  The Battle Ahead came from my own life. I was born in Jammu and Kashmir. For years, the implications of Article 370 did not directly affect me — I was married to a resident of the state and my rights remained intact. But when my daughter came of age, I found myself asking a question I could not shake: would she be entitled to the same rights if she married outside the state? It was never about inheritance for me. It was about dignity. That question became the seed of the book.

The Afterlife series grew from watching modern relationships — shaped by divorce, single-parenting, and mental health pressures — and feeling that we desperately need more emotional depth in how we approach love and connection. 

Imperfect Lives came from a simpler, quieter place: a desire to celebrate flawed, complex people without passing judgment.

Spontaneous — or what I prefer to call the wandering style. I place my characters in the open and follow wherever they lead. They converse with each other, ask questions, meet new people, create diversions I never planned. It plays like a film in my head. I did not know there was a formal name for a writing process until I began meeting other authors and editors after publication. I have not found the right name for mine yet. I believe in creating my own path. 

Erratic, honestly. I actively practise dentistry, and writing has to fit in the spaces between clinical commitments, family life, and the demands of children in their most demanding career years. Looking back, I think writing was my quiet act of rebellion — stealing time to do something that belonged entirely to me. It has given my life a different pursuit, a different perspective. I am glad I wrote those first hesitant words.

One that plays like a film in your head and touches something real in you. A plot that refuses to be predictable. Words that evoke genuine emotion — not performed emotion, but something that rises in you without warning. And an uninterrupted flow that carries you forward without effort. Those are the things that make me stay with a book.

Follow your heart. Your story should come from what you believe — not from the rules someone else set. When you read your own work, it should talk back to you. If the humour does not make you smile, if a difficult scene does not move you to tears even on the tenth revision — rewrite it. In fiction especially, Emotional Quotient is the most fundamental requirement. Everything else can be learned. That cannot.