Shon Mehta

It is a strange thing, to be abandoned by someone who never existed.— Shon Mehta  There are moments after completing a story or novel when I feel an odd sadness—an emptiness I cannot quite explain. I realize that my characters —those strange people I once believed I controlled have quietly departed. As they should; and yet, what is unsettling is that I miss them. I feel abandoned. It is a strange thing, to be abandoned by someone who never existed. During the act of creation, these characters trouble me greatly. Some exhaust my patience, others hurt my conscience, a few even frighten me with the truths they reveal. But once they fall silent, I miss them as one misses acquaintances who, despite their faults, once filled the rooms of one's life with noise and meaning. Let me talk about a few I remember the most. The first is Jaskar Dharman. Writing him felt like remembering something I was not aware I knew; he did not simply arrive—he was there, and I just recognized him. He is a fig...

Isaku is a central character in Shon Mehta's novel, Lair of the Monster. A veteran and former child soldier in the Jivavarta universe, he serves as a philosophical mirror to the brutal realities of conflict, rejecting the "glory" of war for the truth of its human cost. A veteran of past battles, even as a child soldier, Isaku carries the deep scars of violence not just on his body, but in his memory and worldview. He does not speak of the glory of war. Instead, he speaks of the hunger, death  and sorrow that war causes. He does not speak of leaders who win, but of people who lose. “What glory?” he asks. “None for the commoner. None for the fool who dies for a cause. What he gets by fighting in war is only death and silence.” Isaku does not believe in heroes or villains. In war, everyone serves themselves. No one gets the part they want, no one gets a happy ending. He calls the brave man an idiot, and the dead man a forgotten name. Even after going through so much agony, h...

  Mudita always hated the term "when the time comes." She had first heard this term when she was around five. "Stop giving her good food and good clothes," her grandmother had instructed her parents. "In fact, stop indulging her in any way." Her mother tried to protest, but was silenced with a glare. "The girl should not get used to such things," the grandmother continued. "The time has come to send her to the monastery, as it is destined for her." "What is a monastery?" Mudita asked her elder sister. "Are we all going?" "No, silly, only you," replied her sister, three years older. "You are the one who is going to become a monk." "Why me?" Mudita didn't understand. "No! I don't  want to become a monk!" She cried at the thought. Monks, with their bald heads and stern faces, always scared her. "Our parents wanted a son, but you were born," the elder sister expla...