Publish with Us

Follow Penguin

Follow Penguinsters

Follow Penguin Swadesh

Can Nik and Tanvi’s Fake Engagement Save the Day?

Let us introduce you to the dazzling world of  All That Sizzles by Sakshama Puri Dhaliwal, where wedding planner Tanvi Bedi faces a spicy challenge – organizing a $100 million wedding for a media heiress. The twist? She needs chef Nik Shankar, a guy who avoids weddings like the plague. And well…Nik must find a life partner to secure that bag because…REASONS!

Join the fiery passion as Tanvi and Nik embark on a fake engagement that might just turn into the love story they never knew they needed.

Can you hear the sizzle?

All That Sizzles
All That Sizzles || Sakshama Puri Dhaliwal

‘And to my grandson, Nikhil, I transfer the following assets:
1. Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore (first edition, hardcover, 1912) [Annexure II]
2. 1924 Rolls-Royce [Annexure III],
3. The apartment in Mayur Vihar, New Delhi [Annexure IV/A]
4. The property in Ambargarh (Alwar, Rajasthan) [Annexure IV/B]
5. Rs 8.62 crore in fixed deposits and bonds [Annexure V] conditional upon his marriage.’

 

Ruq frowned. ‘What happens if he never marries?’
‘As per a caveat in Clause 13.2, the condition expires in 2035,’ Rahul said.
‘So, I have until 2035 to get married?’ Nik asked.
‘Yes.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘Clause 13.4. The assets will transfer to the Ministry of Culture.’
‘Can I trade the other assets for Ambargarh?’

 

Rahul looked at him like he had taken leave of his senses. ‘That doesn’t make sense financially. The car alone is worth more than—’
‘Can I do it?’ Nik asked.
‘Unfortunately, not.’
‘Can I buy it back from the government?’
‘You can try,’ Rahul said drolly. ‘Good luck navigating the reams of red tape.’

 

For the first time in years, Nik felt a hot, blinding rage towards the sadistic bastard that was his grandfather. Over the last decade, he had carefully cultivated a feeling of indifference towards the man, deigning to give him mind space only when their last remaining connection came up: Ambargarh.

 

The property had been bequeathed to Nik’s mother, Suchitra Devi, by her great-uncle, the Prince of Alwar, but had been under dispute for several years. After the fateful night that had ripped their family apart, Suchitra had moved into an ashram in Kerala, leaving her father— Nik’s grandfather—Vijay Pratap Singh Chauhan, as the attorney-in-fact.
Last year, the courts had finally awarded the property to Suchitra, leaving Vijay Pratap to do with it as he deemed fit.
Nik wanted it more than anything in the world.
And that sonofabitch knows it, he thought bitterly.

 

‘Ghost pepper,’ Nik muttered.
‘Huh?’ Rahul asked.
‘He’s pissed off,’ Ruq explained.
‘He is?’ the lawyer asked sceptically. His client seemed extremely composed, almost zen like.
But Ruq knew better. For years, she had witnessed Nik’s involuntary reflex of naming foods that accurately captured his thoughts in the moment. The ghost pepper was one of the spiciest chilli peppers in the world and certainly the hottest one they used in their kitchen.
Nik might be known for his patience and even temper, but Ruq could bet that underneath his calm demeanour, the chef was simmering.
‘He is,’ Ruq confirmed.
‘I’m fine,’ Nik gritted, his tone belying his words.
Rahul casually brushed a piece of lint off the lapel of his charcoal grey suit. ‘You could just speak to your grandfather, you know? Ask him to reconsider the terms of—’
‘I would rather die,’ Nik said.
‘I suppose that limits your options,’ Rahul shrugged.
‘To what?’ Ruq asked.
‘Marriage,’ Rahul said bluntly.
‘What if he gets married, takes possession of the assets and divorces his wife?’ Ruq asked.
‘Now that definitely sounds like a bad movie,’ Rahul said dryly.
Ruq arched an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

 

Rahul resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ‘I suppose he could. With an ironclad prenup.’
‘Can they prove that he’s not married?’ Ruq asked.
‘What?’ Rahul asked, bemused.
‘What?’ Nik repeated.
Ruq’s eyes widened, and Nik could almost see the wheels in her head turning. ‘Can they prove he’s not married?’
‘Can you prove he is?’ Rahul countered.
‘What proof do we need?’ Ruq asked.
‘A marriage certificate. A wedding card. Photos. Not to mention . . .’ Rahul paused for effect. ‘. . . a wife.’
‘What if she’s not his wife yet, but—’
‘I can guess where this is going,’ Rahul held up a hand. ‘The less I know, the better. As Nik’s lawyer, I can only advise him to pursue a legal path.’
‘But isn’t the law open to interpretation?’ Ruq argued. Rahul looked at her like she was deranged.
‘Call Prabhakar inside,’ Ruq said.
Rahul ignored that. Ruqsana might be Nik’s partner,
but Rahul didn’t take orders from her. He turned to Nik.
‘What do you want me to do?’
Nik looked at Ruq, What the hell are you playing at?
She gave him a reassuring nod. Trust me.

 

A few minutes later, a stout bespectacled man walked into the room. In contrast to his thinning hair, his moustache was thick and bushy, covering most of his upper lip. He wore an old, cheap suit over a striped polyester shirt. The buttons barely held his shirt together
and his stomach threatened to break free from their shackles any minute.

 

‘So? We have reached agreement?’ Prabhakar asked in his broken English.
‘Apparently,’ Rahul said with a resigned sigh, gesturing to Ruqsana.
‘Do you think Mr Chauhan would consider relaxing the condition to “engaged” instead of “married”?’ Ruq asked.

Understanding flashed in Nik’s eyes.
‘You are engaged?’ Prabhakar frowned at Nik.

 

***

Want to know what happens next?

Get your copy of All That Sizzles by Sakshama Puri Dhaliwal wherever books are sold.

The Unbearable Embarrassment of Being a Romance Writer

By Sakshama Puri Dhariwal
‘Did you know Dadi loved reading Mills and Boons?’ Nidhi asked. When he shook his head, she continued, ‘She used to wrap the books in old newspaper and when I asked her why, she said it was because of the “sex scenes” on the cover. The year I turned thirteen, I couldn’t resist any more, so I stole one of her books and peeled back the newspaper. The cover had an illustration of a bare-chested man and a well-endowed woman. And do you know what they were doing?’
Enamoured by her infectious enthusiasm, Vikram gave her a curious smile. ‘What?’
‘The man was kissing the woman’s neck. So, for the longest time, I thought necking is how babies are born,’ she admitted with an embarrassed laugh.
This scene from Man of Her Match was inspired by real life. My grandmother did conceal her love for romance novels behind old newspapers. My mother loved them too, but conditionally – Barbara Cartland and Nora Roberts always found a surreptitious spot behind Erich Segal and Arthur Hailey. A voracious reader, her love for books transcends genre – she enjoys the classics and literary fiction just as much as her monthly copy of Filmfare and Vogue. So, while I inherited her love of reading, I unfortunately also imbibed the belief that romance was ‘less than’ science fiction or adventure, or even, sadly, recipe books.
In Delhi University, a classmate told me that she loved Judith McNaught. Instead of admitting to my own collection of the bestselling author’s books, I feigned disinterest and promptly turned away to join a different conversation about Murakami. In business school, while my batch mates were devouring biographies of Jack Welch and Warren Buffet, I was skipping lunch to finish the latest Sophie Kinsella novel.
When I discovered digital readers, I started reading a few books a week. And while I left alone the ‘acceptable’ books in my reading history, I deleted the romance novels – lest someone pick up the device and judge. It was, I realize now, the digital equivalent of covering books in newspaper. Because admitting to enjoying such books made you less of an intellectual and worse, less of a feminist. How strange these self-imposed rules are: reading Jane Austen is okay because her books are classics, but a historical romance – even one featuring a suffragette or scientist – is automatically dismissed as ‘trash’ or sometimes euphemistically, ‘guilty pleasure’.
When I tell people I’m a writer of romantic comedies, most of them express admiration. But every once in a while, someone will scoff, “Chick lit, you mean!” or wiggle their eyebrows and ask if there are any good sex scenes in the book. Laughing off such comments would make me a traitor to my profession. And to my gender.
Though people can deride the genre all they want, they cannot dispute the reading revolution that romance authors have brought about. In India, a bestselling book would need to sell 7,000 copies in the first few months, whereas the New York Times bestseller list features books that have sold 9,000 copies in the first week. And yet the first print run for many Indian romance writers is in lakhs. In a country where English is the second language for many people (and a foreign language for most), writers of this genre have done what others failed at: encouraging the reading habit in a land of non-readers. Ironically, the very first English novel read by young people is romantic fiction and instead of hiding these books behind newspaper, readers are flaunting them on their Facebook profiles.
What is it about these books (and movies) that makes them palatable to the Indian reader? Surely the relatively uncomplicated plots and simple language play a role. But another very important element is the persistent presence of the HEA (happily ever after) phenomenon. Historically speaking, HEAs sell. And the reason these feel-good stories sell is just that: they feel good. But while the last century saw several romantic films win Best Picture Oscars (It Happened One Night, Gone With the Wind, Casablanca, The Apartment, West Side Story, My Fair Lady, Annie Hall), the most recent film to receive that honour was Shakespeare in Love – almost 20 years ago!
Clearly, a large proportion of content consumers today prefers more realistic storytelling and more relatable characters. Take the Netflix show Black Mirror: it is a bleak but believable British science fiction series that warns the viewer about the degree of human perversion and decrepitude in light of changing technology. Or the Hulu show Casual: a dark comedy that navigates the world of casual dating, teenage angst, and the modern definition of sex and sexuality. Both shows are very successful even though both don’t walk the HEA line.
But in a world like the one we live in today, are readers and viewers truly ready to forgo HEAs? Breaking Bad may be touted as the best TV show ever made, but does that stop us from watching reruns of Friends? You could be counting the minutes to the new Game of Thrones season, but can you honestly say that you don’t hold your breath during the DDLJ climax even today, hoping that Bauji will let Simran go to Raj? On a rainy day, with chai and pakoras, the book I like to re-read isn’t 1984, it’s Pride and Prejudice.
Happy endings are much like comfort food – on a bad day, it’s the only thing that can make you feel better. Happiness, even vicarious happiness, offers us an escape from these troubled times. Which is why, even though I grew up embarrassed of reading romance novels, I am proud to write them.
Sakshama Puri Dhariwal is the author of the bestselling novel The Wedding Photographer. Man of her Match is her second novel. 
Sakshama Puri FB Live.jpg

error: Content is protected !!