Get me the money I had kept with you, will give it to him. At least we will live in peace.” Munni was sweeping the floor, she turned and replied, “We have just three rupees. JUST THREE RUPEES.” Her anger was evident in her tone, “We have kept it to buy a blanket for the upcoming winters. How will we survive these brutal wintry nights, if we give our savings to him? Tell him, we will pay him when we sell our crop. We don’t have anything for him right now!” Halku stood there not knowing what to do. He tried to put his thoughts in order, so as to take a decision. Winter season was at its peak and without a blanket there was no way he could sleep out in the open, guarding his fields all through the night. But he knew that refusing the money monger would be even worse. He thought, it was better to die in the open field under the dark sky than listening to the abuses being hurled at him. Clear in his mind now, he dragged his hefty self towards Munni and with a fake smile said, “Come on, Munni. Give it to me. At least it will take the moneylender off my neck. I will think of something and get the blanket.” But Munni was in no mood to listen to his fake promises. She moved away from him and said, “Am fed up of you and your assurances. Tell me, what you are going to do about the blanket. Who will give it to you for free? Who knows, how fierce it’s gonna be for us? We survived the last time, but this time it will kill us.” She paused for a second, and continued, “Why don’t you leave farming? Are we going to live like this forever? We work our asses out to grow these bloody crops but what happens when the time for harvest comes? These morons line up outside our house and take away all that we have. For God’s sake, do something else. Earn some money and do whatever you want to of it. I am not going to give even a damn penny to them.”

     This is a newly re-formatted edition (as of January 23, 2014) to address quirks in previous editions. "Noel Hynd knows the ins and outs of Washington's institutions, public and private." Publishers Weekly (on 'The Enemy Within") From the author of FLOWERS FROM BERLIN, CONSPIRACY IN KIEV and two dozen other best selling thrillers, comes a newly revised 'endgame' spy story, based on the events of 1983 that were all too real. It is 1983, the freezing point of the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union. Behind the headlines, unknown to most private citizens, the two super powers bumble toward nuclear confrontation....and in the back streets and back alleys of world capitals, spies and recalled spies fight for a part of a missile guidance system that could tip the balance during nuclear confrontation. And at the center is a woman with a terrible secret. Noel Hynd takes you on a journey into the world of espionage in both the 1960's and 1980s. Based on fascinating real life detail, some of it autobiographical, the story teams with real life characters from Andropov to Profumo and spawls across CIA stations in London and Paris as well as Parisian night spots and journalistic/spy haunts such as Harry's New York Bar in Paris. The times were deadly, but riveting, the mood intoxicating but frightening. For spy fans, this is a trip into the real world. You will never feel the same about the year 1983. "The novels of Noel Hynd stand out like emeralds." - NY Times Book Review. "A few notches above the Ludlums and Clancys of the world - Booklist "(False Flags is)...readable and highly complex....written with intelligence and style....a REAL PAGE TURNER. - Publishers Weekly.

    This is a place where teenage love and friendships are tested by the violence that threatens to erupt at the slightest provocation. A town that always pulls you back into its ways, no matter how cosmopolitan the city has made you.In 'Diwali in Muzaffarnagar' - Tanuj Solanki's new book of short stories after 'Neon Noon' - young men and women straddle the past and the present, the metropolis and the small town, and also the parallel needs of life: solitude and family.

    Exhumed from dust, Manto’s unpublished novel surfaces in Lucknow. Is it real or is it a fake? In this dastan, Manto and Ghalib converse, entwining their lives in shared dreams. The result is an intellectual journey that takes us into the people and events that shape us as a culture. As one writer describes it, ‘I discovered Rabisankar Bal like a torch in the darkness of the history of this subcontinent. This is the real story of two centuries of our own country.’ Rabisankar Bal’s audacious novel, told by reflections in a mirror and forged in the fires of hell, is both an oral tale and a shield against oblivion. An echo of distant screams. Inscribed by the devil’s quill, Dozakhnama is an outstanding performance of subterranean memory.