You Cannot Miss This Flight: Essays On Emerging India

Warning... or Invitation? That choice is yours. This isn’t a fairytale. This isn’t about sweet kisses beneath cherry blossoms or soft smiles under the stars. No. This is raw, This is reckless, This is “Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire” A collection of BL short stories carved from lust, laced with obsession, and kissed by chaos. Each chapter stands on its own, a world where strangers become addictions, roommates cross lines, enemies blur into lovers, and the line between want and need snaps without warning. These men don’t fall in love. They fall into temptation. They crash into each other like lightning against the sea, loud, unforgiving, and beautiful in their destruction. You’ll find no gentle romance here. Only the ache of fingertips brushing where they shouldn't, the weight of glances held too long, the gasp before the plunge. This is for the ones who know love isn’t always tender. That sometimes, the most unforgettable stories are the ones written in bruises and longing. This is for those who crave stories that leave a mark, who don’t flinch when desire gets messy, when hearts bleed a little before they beat as one. Not for the faint-hearted. Not for the clean-handed. This is for the bold, the brave, the ones who dare to touch the flame even if it burns. So turn the page. Step into the fire. But don’t say I didn’t warn you--- Because once the embers catch, they never go out.

During a long holiday, my husband booked flights for a family vacation. On the way to the airport, I suddenly saw numbers appearing on everyone’s head. The numbers on my husband’s head indicated sixty years, but my parents and I had only six hours indicated on our heads. While I was puzzled over the meaning of those numbers, I noticed that the driver next to us only had six seconds indicated over his head through the car window. Five… Four… Three… Two… One. When the number turned zero, a massive truck immediately rammed into the car next to us. I saw flickers of fire, flesh and blood exploding before my eyes. People were screaming for help, but I could not hear anything. I trembled as cold sweat drenched my entire body. It was because my flight would be taking off in six hours.

The novel is mainly about the forgotten British poet/writer named C. J Richards who lived in Burma/Myanmar in colonial times and he believed himself as a Burmophile. He served as I.C.S (Indian Civil Servant) and when he retired from I.C.S service, he was a D.C (District Commissioner) and he left for England a year before Burma gained its independence in 1948. He came to Burma in 1920 to work in civil service after passing the hardest I.C.S examination. He wrote several books on Burma and contributed many monthly articles to Guardian Magazine published in Burma from 1953 to 1974 or 1975. Though he wrote several books which had much literary merit to both communities, Britain and Burma (Myanmar), people failed to recognize him. The story has two parts: one part is set in the contemporary Yangon (then called Rangoon) in 2016 context and a young literary enthusiast named “Lin” found out unexpectedly the forgotten writer’s poetry book and there is surely a good deal of time gap that led him into a quest to know more about the author’s life. The setting is quite different comparing to colonial Burma and independence Myanmar (Burma), early twentieth century and 2016 which is a transitional period in Myanmar. The writer’s life is fictionalized in the novel and most of the facts are taken from his personal stories and other reference books. It is a kind of historical novel with a twist and it has comparatively constructed the two different periods in Myanmar history to convince readers, locally and abroad more about history, authorship, humanity, colonialism, and transitional development in Myanmar today.

As I'm unable to get a ticket for my return trip after the Thanksgiving holiday, I specifically booked a first-class seat home. Just as I find my seat, I see an unruly child jumping around on it. I patiently smile and say, "Kid, this is my seat. Where is your seat?" He makes a face at me. "It's mine now, old hag!" I grab him by the collar of his shirt, wanting to lift him out of the seat. At that moment, a woman's piercing voice sounds behind me. "What are you doing? Let go of my son!" I release my grip and say as gently as possible, "Please control your child. This is my seat." Suddenly, she raises her voice. "He's just a child! Can't you, as an adult, give way to him? You're young and dressed decently. How can you have no compassion at all?" I'm so angered by this distorted reasoning that I laugh. "If you're so compassionate, why didn't you spend the money to buy your child a first-class seat?"

Found in the marooned ruins of Chavand was a book ripped and torn. Its yellowed pages eaten up and coiled. Forgotten and unheard about was this book until it came to light. His legends lived on, his tales of valour prevailed. His glory seemed enternal and he was worshiped and adored. But his heart remained shrouded in a cloak of mystery. His emotions, his turmoils went unnoticed in an attempt to make him great. Seen as someone who was invincible and immortal, the Rana changes your perspective from his greatness to his soft heart. Written across the pages during his last moments, he wrote his own life. Where bards would be at a loss and poets were simply lost in his glory and valor, the Rana is said to be the only one who could write about himself.

An unexpected event at an office outing, takes a 35year old-mother of 2, Tanisi to a time and place unknown. She is now a 18 year old woman with all complaints that she had about her fixed. What happens when a modern middle-aged woman suddenly gets an almost perfect body, yet retains the maturity of her age, goes to the times of Kings and Queens to a mysterious kingdom which is known as Nishantha. Read on to know more about Tanisi's tryst with a handsome, almost perfect Emperor Samrat Samudra!