Transitioning to full-time writing in Canada has been a dream, though one painted in shades of blue and white that I never quite expected. There is a surreal, incredible peace in drafting intense, high-heat Indian romance scenes while watching the snow fall furiously outside my window in Montreal.
People often ask me how I manage to capture the stifling humidity and electric energy of Mumbai while wrapped in a woollen blanket in Montreal. The truth is, the contrast of the cold outside creates a paradoxical warmth in my imagination. The isolation of a Canadian winter has become my greatest sanctuary, a silent space where the complex emotions of Aarti, Aditya, and Girish can truly bloom without distraction.
"Warmth isn't just about the temperature on a thermostat. It's about the emotional frequency of the story. In the frozen quiet of Montreal, my characters' passions feel even more vivid, more necessary."
My writing routine has shifted with the seasons. I wake early, when the world is still draped in that haunting pre-dawn blue. Before I touch my laptop, there is the ritual of the first cup. To write about modern India, I need the fuel of home. My word count is directly proportional to how much masala chai I can brew before the first snowfall of the morning.
There is something deeply satisfying about the "clack-clack" of my keyboard against the muffled silence of a blizzard. It reminds me that stores are our internal fires. They are how we stay warm when the world around us is cold.
As I finish the final chapters of The Approved Affair, I look out at the frosted glass and realize that I’ve found my rhythm here. Montréal has given me the stillness I needed to hear the whispers of Aarti’s diary more clearly.
I hope that as you read these scenes, you feel that same warmth, the kind that starts in the heart and spreads through every page, no matter where in the world you are currently sitting. You can explore more of my work in the Bookshelf.