Author


Wrong for the Right Reasons by Ritu Lalit


Wrong 
For The Right Reasons
by 
Ritu Lalit

The Blurb

Shyamoli Verma’s timing is wrong. In her late twenties, she finds that her marriage is irrevocably broken. She comes back to her parents with her pre-teen son and an infant daughter, only to find that she is unwelcome. 
Independent and brash, she decides to bring up her children and also get a divorce without any support from friends and family. 
Written with wry self deprecating humour, this is the story of a divorced woman’s quest for love and security.

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The Story Told In Pictures 

Meet the Author



Ritu Lalit is a corporate slave turned fiction writer. A voracious reader, she is a gold medalist post graduate in English Literature who spent most of her childhood in remote areas in the northeastern parts of India, lying on grassy hillsides daydreaming and reading books.

She loves spinning tales, but no longer has her captive audience as her children grew up and flew away from the coop. Her three dogs don’t pay much attention. She began writing in the vain hope that the characters she creates will listen to her, even do her bidding.

She has five books out in the market, A Bowlful of Butterflies, HILAWI, Chakra, Chronicles of the Witch Way and Wrong, for the Right Reasons. Her fifth novel, His Father’s Mistress is coming soon.

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REVIEW:

We grumble about trivial things, silly things – a broken fingernail, an absent servant, a late train, a difficult friend. And then we hear or witness something terrible, a life-changing tragedy that someone is struggling to survive. We realise then that we have so much to be thankful for. And send a secret prayer to God asking that he not test us in a similar fashion.

Ritu Lalit’s Wrong, for the right reasons deals with one such issue – divorce. “Divorces are wars that do grievous harm to self esteem, security, love. Collateral damage is family, friends and everyone who is forced to choose between one spouse and the other,” writes the author. A divorce symbolises betrayal, loss, agony, fear and monetary distress. And this is the story of how the heroine of the tale, Shyamoli, deals with it.

The first hint she gets of there being an outsider in her paradise is when she finds a picture of her husband with a bimbo. She chooses to ignore it, as she is pregnant with her second child and is unable to call it quits easily, unlike her frenemy Uma. Then follow other tell-tale signs. A whisper of a perfume on her husband Manav’s clothes, late night phone calls, a faraway smile. And then Manav confesses to a ‘scene’ with Nimmi, his childhood sweetheart. Shyamoli is distraught, for she is not cine star material, but the husband-snatcher Nimmi is ‘a wet dream in a kurti and tights.’

Finally, Shyamoli is forced to move away and fend for herself and her children. Liberating? Yes. But liberation does not pay the bills. “The epidermis renews itself in four weeks, the lungs in three weeks, the blood cells in four months. The heart takes the longest, twenty years,” says the narrator, as she wrestles with her problems. She had thought men wanted sex, but discovered that they wanted comfort – old jackets, old ways, old sweethearts. When her marriage dies, she is forced to contend with lecherous men and gossiping neighbours. And a mother who hates her guts.

The characters you meet in Ritu Lalit’s book are searing in their realism. Shyamoli’s mother who feeds on flattery. Her father, a judge, who makes everything sound like a legal judgement, on stamp paper, in triplicate. A brother whose life is spent wriggling out of sticky situations. Chubby Jaya Auntie who looks like she emerged from a tumble dryer washing machine. The despotic lawyer uncle who advises her to reconcile with her husband as he earns good money and does not beat her. “Did he expect me to don a baby doll nightie, dab some perfume in my cleavage, waltz into Manav’s office and have torrid sex on the office table?” wonders Shyamoli.

Then there is her rebellious friend Uma who regards marriage as legalised prostitution and calls her own parents ‘fossils’. Shyamoli’s’s son Samar who is twelve going on seventy. Her two-year-old daughter Ketaki who bites noses. Her niece who has met Shyamoli only on Skype and thinks she lives in the I-pad. Each character we are introduced to crackles with life and keeps you engrossed.

What happens to Shyamoli? Does she buckle in her struggle against society, parental and peer pressure or does she survive? You must read this heartwarming tale for yourself to find out. There are tears but there is laughter too, and a fighting spirit that shines through.

“I wish people will stop calling me strong… All they mean is that no matter how much I avoid it, trouble always finds me; it knocks me down and breaks me into pieces. I have to get up and rebuild myself,” says the harried protagonist.

An ensemble cast. A gripping narrative. Sparkling dialogue. A tale of relationships gone wrong, of dreams gone missing. This is the drama of life. Real, unvarnished. It pulls at your heartstrings from the beginning and never lets go. Ritu Lalit – you’ve penned a beautiful tribute to the spirit of the independent woman. Write on!

3 Comments

  1. Rubina Ramesh |

    Lovely review Usha. Shyamoli’s character resonated with me too. I loved her sense of humor max. With so mnay responsibilities the way she came up as a successful businesswoman is really a wow moment for me.

    Reply

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