TAB (The Author’s Blog) is known for it’s creative revolutions and we are here to deliver you the best and hence we are back with another of our latest Gambit!

We all know that Christmas is still months away but our very own Santa is here to fulfill some of your wishes. We have some bestsellers book to giveaway and you just have to WISH the title of the book and the book will reach your doorsteps. Yes, we are serious, TAB promise!

I WISH copy.jpg1

So what you basically have to do? Just follow these simple steps:

  • Post this phrase (with the book title that you want to have from TAB) on your Facebook timeline:

#IWISH ‘I WISH TO RECEIVE ‘*book title (that you wish for)*’ FROM





  • Get the maximum support (Likes) of your friends and families on your post and your wish will get fulfilled.

* There are many books to win so don’t worry about number of likes, just try your best and leave everything on us.

Now special wishes!

  •  If you successfully grabbed more than 100 likes on your post, you can have all the 5 books.
  • If you successfully grabbed more than 150 likes on your post, you can have 5+2 (Resonance by Ajay Pandey & Hey Dad! meet My Mom.. by Sandeep Sharma) on your doorsteps.

So what are you waiting for? Make a wish and show the power of your social circle to have the maximum!


Insensitive India

Written By : Shivam Singh
E-mail- kingshivamsingh@gmail.com


Is rape all about inhuman aspects of certain individuals? Is it simply driven by lust? Or it has more to do with mental retardation? All these questions erupted four months ago, when a medical student was fatally raped by a gang of goons. They went unanswered for long but it seems they are plausibly answered today, by an equally spine chilling rape of a five year old girl. So was that driven by lust? Or humanity failed to distinguish a small child in eyes of that pervert?
What India as a whole has lost are emotions, sensitivity towards other’s pain. What made that rascal brutally assault the five year old kid was nothing but a larger manifestation of this insensitivity that actually all of us carry. For instance, if we see a guy dying on the road, in blood and gore we will respond by a few mumbles of sympathy and at the most a prayer for his soul to rest in peace for when he dies lying on the road in that awful condition. If we being among the genteel and educated class in India practice such kind of insensitivity then it’s obviously unwise to expect a rogue pervert to restrain from his satan like cruelty.
The same insensitivity was evident when ACP Bani Singh Ahlawat slapped the girl protester after being aggravated by the incessant protest. So what was the surprise for? We carry similar traits in our souls in different proportions; we are one amongst the insensitive civilization that India has lately developed.
Gandhi JI famously said “be the change you want to see in the world”. Its right to raise voice against the wrongs and it’s our right to protest against the same. But if this highly motivated and young generation of our beloved country wants something to actually change, then that has to come from within, if we abandon the smaller scars in our being, and begin to turn sensitive towards other’s pain then automatically the larger sins in this society will perish to null. So let’s not just raise our voice, let’s make our voice stronger by being more human in this country of Gods.



Forever dreaming of having you near,

Always hoping you were here.

No matter that I will never see you,

In my dreams I hold you dear.


“Can’t I just be left alone on at least weekends?” I cried aloud in my empty room while lying on the couch with TV remote in my one hand and other hand resting beneath my head for support when my mobile rang for the third time in the last 5 minutes.

I unwillingly stood from the couch and grabbed the phone. It was an unknown number. I rudely said:

“Hello. Who’s this?”

“I am Girish. Can I please talk to Mrs. Shikha?” a young masculine voice came from the other side. The caller was unknown to me as far his voice was concerned.


“Hello Mrs. Shikha. Well actually I…. I am Raj Sharma’s son.” Those words were enough for me to die in shock. Enormous number of questions started to come in my mind. In between that he continued, “Well I found your number in my father’s email account.”

He gave a pause and in between I was finding it hard to breath.

“I…. I don’t know who you are. But my father is dying here ……and calling your name continuously. He wants to see you for the last time.”

This was the next shocker.

“What happened to Raj? I mean, your father.” I suddenly realized that something was wrong.

“He met an accident last week. We admitted him in hospital. They released him saying that he is fine but he is not. He refuses to eat, he’s just lying on bed and with those sleepless eyes just staring the ceiling of room and continuously calling your name.”

He paused. I think he started crying. Then he again continued.

“Please come as soon as possible. My mom…. My mom also wants the same. She will not ask you any question. You just come here, please.”

“I am coming son, don’t worry.”


I called Girish for the last time before we actually meet and told him about my flight’s arrival to his town so that he can pick me up.

I grabbed my seat in the flight and got lost in memories.


Although the miles keep us apart,

Just thinking of you brings happiness to my heart.

Sometimes life plays with you in such a fashion that you can’t judge whether you should thank life for the things you have or you should feel annoyed of it. The same happened with me. When everybody left me, including my Raj, my pen and some pieces of paper became my friends. I expressed everything to him; my joys, my sorrows, my dreams, my nightmares, my life, my death, my Raj and my Raj.


I myself don’t know when and how, I became a successful writer. My life has become a bestseller for them. Now my pen and paper were gone and everybody came back in my life, including Raj but now everything has changed.


One day when I was checking out my fans mail, I stopped at one name Raj Sharma. I don’t know how, but I knew that this is not somebody else. This is my Raj. My emotions were overflowing throw my eyes. At last my Raj comes back in my life; my life’s story will not suffer the deficiency of the ending. There will be an ending. My Raj remembers his Shikha.


I opened the mail and read:

Yesterday night I read your novel, I liked it so much. I could just relate with the male character Shubham. It was all like, it’s my life. You are a fabulous writer. But there was one thing which I didn’t like about the novel, the ending. You have written that in the end Shubham dies of waiting for Priya who have lost her memory and refuses to know Shubham anymore. I didn’t like this ending because you know what ‘True Love and True Lovers Never Dies.’ There’s always a happy ending written for lovers, the only thing is that you have to wait till the end.


Expectations, these are the main reason of all the sorrows of life and expectations are also the main reason to try harder.


I replied to the mail, and then came another reply from his side, I replied to that also. So in short our online dating has been started. We talked of everything except our previous life. I didn’t want to make him remember anything of the past; I wanted to live in present.


One day he texted me:

“I am sorry but I think I am in love with you. I know you are married and I am also married. We both have children in teen ages but……………… I am sorry.”


I replied him that I am sorry too.


When I woke up from my dreams that ring which he sent me was in front of my eyes. We both have promised each other to never meet so that our present marriage relationship will not suffer for the betterment of our children and when their will a high urge to meet each other will rise we will see the rings sent by us to each other and remember the promise.  

My flight landed.

** Pieces of poetry used are from different Internet sources.