2026

I hope this update finds you all doing well!

It’s amazing how quickly time, and a few deadlines, have flown past. I thought it was appropriate to update you on what I've been focusing on lately. Right now, my focus is on two main projects.

Firstly, I’ve been diligently working through the notes from my trusty Beta Reader who reviewed “The Zero Point” recently. The feedback has been invaluable, and I’m taking the time to thoughtfully address each point, making sure that the story shines in its best light. This process may take a bit longer than expected, but it’s essential for creating the best possible work.

Can I just add how awesome Sargi Pragadha, the Beta Reader has been? I cannot recommend her enough. She has an incredible eye for story structure, character motivation, and pacing. Her feedback was clear, actionable, and always rooted in making the story better. It was never just to nitpick. She celebrated what worked and helped me fix what didn’t. The story is going to be immeasurably stronger because of her. Truly a splendid, professional-level review. If you are on social media, her twitter (now X) handle is https://x.com/SPragada.

Secondly, in addition to refining my novel, I’ve also started working on the second edition of my existing anthology series, LIM. With the second edition, I am hoping to bring it to a new and polished level.

While ideas for the Ashwatthama novel continue to churn in my mind (stay tuned!), I’ve also started drafting stories for another sci-fi short story anthology. This new collection might just become the sequel to LIM. “LIM - Part 2” is what I am calling it tentatively. As I experiment with fresh worlds and concepts, one story will delve into an existential crisis of a different kind, while another will venture into the realm of cosmic horror. All in all, I’m excited to see where this project takes me.

And finally, I have an ask. If you’ve found value in my stories, please help spread the word about me as an author. Recommend my books to friends, family, or colleagues who might enjoy them, and share this email list with anyone who would appreciate such content.

To subscribe to this newsletter, all you have to do is enter your email and hit “Subscribe” on my home page here https://matkarma.in .

Your support means the world, and I look forward to sharing more news with you soon!

For centuries, historians have been asking a question: "Where the hell is Punt?"

The Land of Punt was one of Ancient Egypt's most important trading partners. Egyptian records describe expeditions there. They brought back gold, incense, exotic animals, ivory, and other treasures. The Egyptians clearly knew where Punt was.

The problem is that we don't. Thousands of years later, historians, archaeologists, linguists, and geographers are still debating its location. Was it in Somalia? Eritrea? Sudan? Yemen? Somewhere else entirely? How can a place so important simply disappear?

The answer is simple. Not enough people wrote things down.

Most of what historians about Punt comes from a handful of Egyptian inscriptions and reliefs. The people of Punt themselves left few records that survived. Their own voices are largely absent. As a result, one of the most significant trading partners of one of history's greatest civilizations has become a mystery.

This is surprisingly common across history. Something may have been common knowledge back then. And so the historian recording it didn’t bother elaborating leading to a centuries long mystery.

A humorous example of this is the first Polish encyclopaedia, which included such definitions as "Horse: Everyone knows what a horse is", and "Dragon: Dragon is hard to overcome, yet one shall try."

Ancient Hindu texts and Puranas (such as the Ramayana and the Mahabharata) reference flying chariots called "Vimanas". Apparently, these are flying palaces or chariots. But one truly doesn't know what they were referencing.

So what is the lesson here? It's about memory.

Every day, people live remarkable lives, build companies, raise families, create ideas, solve problems, and learn lessons. Most of it is never recorded. A generation later, details fade. A century later, they disappear entirely.

Writing is humanity's defense against forgetting.

When you write, you do more than communicate. You preserve. You leave a trail for the future. You allow people who have never met you to understand what you knew, what you built, and how you saw the world. The civilizations we admire today are often the civilizations that wrote. The people we remember are often the people who recorded their thoughts. The lessons that survive are the lessons that someone took the time to write down.

So write.

Write your ideas. Write your stories. Write your mistakes. Write what worked and what didn't. Write the things you wish someone had told you.

Because thousands of years from now, someone may be asking questions about our time just as we ask questions about Punt.

And the answer they find will depend on what we leave behind.

Hello there,

Hope you're having a great week!

Have you heard of Godwin's Law? It’s a hilarious reflection of state of online discussions. Formulated by attorney Mike Godwin in 1990, it states that as an online discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Nazis or Adolf Hitler approaches one.

Well… we won’t be discussing any of that nonsense here. But I did notice an interesting parallel. You see… if you've ever had a conversation with me, you'd know very well that the longer you talk to me, the higher the probability of me bringing up UFOs (or that fancy new word UAP).

And so, when Steven Spielberg announced Disclosure Day, I wasn’t going to let that one pass by. I don’t watch movies as often as I once used to; I want to reserve all my energy and time for the truly valuable ones (I know I sound a bit self-important here… but when you get to my age, you’ll see.).

And in that aspect Disclosure Day was phenomenal.

Only Spielberg could call a film “Disclosure Day” and make a movie about EXACTLY that. In essence it’s a movie that leads up to the events of Disclosure Day.

I am not going to spoil the movie for you here. That wouldn’t be so nice now, is it?

But I will tell you this much. You know how you learnt a recipe of a particularly delicious dish from your mother… and yet no matter how many times you make it with the exact same recipe, it never seems right. Like it is always missing something?

That’s what Spielberg feels like. Like when your mother whips up that dish. He’s cooked something delicious here… and it shows. There’s something about the colour, or the way scenes transition, or the pacing, or the dialogue that has an indescribable quality to it.

Honestly, I went into one of his earlier movies “Ready Player One” fully expecting to hate it, since it’s not my genre, and it blew me away. That is Spielberg for you.

I’d say…go watch if for Emily Blunt or Colman Domingo.

YET… YET… YET… there’s something missing from the movie, and I suspect not everyone will agree with me on this. It felt a bit like "Bait-and-Switch." You’ll know when you see it. 😊

That being said, there won’t be any bait and switch in my upcoming story. Last month, I submitted the manuscript of “The Zero Point” to my publisher. The Zero Point combines the short story “Phenomenon” from my anthology “LIM” and completes the story-arc of the main character “Nahushah Shukla”.

If you’ve read the story, then in this book you will learn exactly who his Watchers are.

Stay tuned for updates on this and future projects in upcoming newsletters. Release dates, cover reveals, and excerpts will all land here first. If you’ve enjoyed following along, the best way to support this journey is by spreading the word: forward this newsletter to a friend or fellow sci-fi reader who might enjoy “LIM” or is curious about “The Zero Point.”

Every new subscriber helps this little corner of the universe grow, and I’d love for more readers to be part of it. You can subscribe to my newsletter on my home page at https://matkarma.in/

Thanks for being here. More to come soon.

The scent of the Yua flowers clung to Elder Nia’s study, a familiar comfort that did little to soothe the tremor in her mind. It had just stopped raining a short while ago, and when it did, the silence that followed felt ominous. For more than a century and half, she made decisions here, weighty ones, measured in lives and stability of Luminoura in Tanea. But tonight, she felt the crushing weight of doubt.

She been wrong. Truly wrong.

The memory of Tunza Maarif’s earnest gaze, the slight tremble in his voice as he pleaded to recite a poem, lingered like ash in her mind.

In the past she had argued for his leniency, convinced the Council to overlook his… unconventional and underperforming life. To her face they had labelled her sentimental, but behind her back everyone knew why she was biased towards Tunza.

Now, chatter over the Lattice felt like a physical blow, each line a fresh indictment of her judgment. She still could not believe it. The man who had awoken, the one she thought was Tunza Maarif, was not the boy she had help raised. He was the imposter from Valhe. The realization twisted in her gut. Years she had championed him, shielded him, and in doing so, blinded herself to the truth. The thought that Valhe had perfected their own version of the Nomadinen was a devastating blow. How long had they been deceiving her? Who could she truly trust?

The chime announcing visitors sliced through her turmoil. She knew who it was, a chill ran down her spine. “Enter,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

The door gave way and six figures strode in, their postures radiating controlled aggression. Mobaya Zaidi clearly led them, his face etched with simmering disapproval. Mobaya, had been a rock, an anchor in her often-turbulent leadership. Now, his eyes held only accusation.

“Elder Nia,” Mobaya said, his voice clipped and clearly accusatory. “We’ve warned you repeatedly not to treat the Valhe lightly. Your hubris blinds you, and now we’ve seen an actual infiltration. On our watch. The Great Bulwark knows we are going to pay the price for your recklessness”

“Keep your tone down with me, Mobaya,” she replied in an admonishing tone, attempting a tone of authority.

“You’ve become… weak,” Saidizi spat, younger and less restrained than Mobaya. The others nodded in agreement.

Nia’s jaw tightened. “The Great Bulwark tests us. You know, as well as I, we will prevail.”

“It’s blindness, Elder Nia,” Mobaya countered, his voice low and precise. “You refused to see what was apparent to us from the start.”

Mobaya’s gaze intensified, and a cruel satisfaction flickered in his eyes. “You always did, didn’t you? Conveniently overlooking his…idiosyncrasies. You see echoes of someone you wanted to see.” He paused, and the air in the room seemed to thicken with unspoken accusations. “Don’t think for a moment that we didn’t know. Your…history with his father.”

The blow landed like a physical force, stealing the air from her lungs. It was the sheer audacity of the words, never spoken aloud, never permitted in her presence. And now, her own Mobaya was delivering them, dripping in contempt. “How dare he?” The thought was a sharp, burning brand against her composure.

“Get out,” Nia snarled, the carefully cultivated calm shattered. “Leave my study, now!”

Mobaya didn’t flinch. He didn’t raise his voice. He simply approached her, his movements fluid and unsettlingly calm. He was close enough that she could smell the subtle musk of his scent, a scent she had known for decades.

His voice dropped to a near whisper, a low tremor of menace that vibrated in the silence. “The scab demands release… isn’t that what you’ve always said…?”

Then, with blinding speed, a flash of metal, and a searing pain blossomed in her chest. She gasped, her hand instinctively going to the crimson stain blooming on her tunic. The last thing she saw was Mobaya’s face, impassive, almost… pitying.

---

Hey there, thanks for reading. This is the prologue of my upcoming novel. Would you consider reading on or is this not for you? I invite honest answers. If you do, you can email me at sharadh@matkarma.in or sharadh.jaitra@zohomail.in.

You can also subscribe to my newsletter on the home page here. https://matkarma.in/

I once wrote a blog post exploring why I blog, arguing that writing offers a unique window into a person's mind. You can find that earlier post here. Today, I wanted to share what it feels like after finally publishing a book.

We all wear masks. In our daily lives, we curate versions of ourselves for work, for family, for social situations. We present the "acceptable" face, the one that fits the mold. But when you write? When you put words on paper (or screen) and share them with the world? Suddenly, those masks start to slip.

It's a truth I've wrestled with a lot since publishing my first book. You can't hide who you are in your writing. It's an unnerving reality. It exposes you, digs deep, and lays bare parts of yourself that you might not even consciously acknowledge. That's why some books resonate with us instantly, while others feel wrong we just don't make the same connection. It's not just about plot or prose; it's about the author's soul shining through.

I experienced this firsthand. The first time I asked someone to read my book, the first time I braved sharing my work with a family member… the reaction was…telling. It wasn't negative, but there was a palpable sense of seeing something. Something authentic. Something raw. It felt vulnerable, like someone had peeked behind the curtain and seen the messy, complicated person behind the polite façade.

It's a feeling, I found out through other writers, that it is surprisingly universal. Writing, ultimately, is an act of profound self-revelation. It's like revealing a side of yourself you only share with the person you love most, and sometimes, even that connection isn't deep enough to warrant such honesty.

And let's be honest, it's scary. Anxiety is a completely natural response. I'm consistently amazed by the courage of the authors whose work I've had the privilege to read. To willingly expose their thoughts, their beliefs, their kinks, to someone else, knowing I could glean so much about them from the page, is a testament to their bravery.

Every piece of writing, whether it's a novel, a poem, a short story, contains a reflection of who you are. Your prejudices, your passions, your quiet anxieties, your secret joys...they're all imprinted in the words.

The good news? It does get easier. The initial wave of terror subsides. Like getting used to the sound of your own voice in a video. But every now and then, something will surface, a sentence, a phrase, a character, and it's like a little echo of your inner self whispers, "Is this too much?"

So, how do we navigate this uncomfortable truth? In my opinion, the answer lies in self-acceptance. It sounds trite, I know. But for so many of us, the struggle to share our work stems from a deeper struggle: a lack of self-love. Many feel inadequate, unworthy, like something is fundamentally "wrong" with who they are.

Perhaps, the first step on your writing journey isn't about crafting the perfect plot or mastering the perfect prose. Maybe it's about taking a long, hard look in the mirror and saying, "This is me. I am who I am. And that's okay."

If people see that authenticity, if they resonate with the raw, unfiltered you that shines through your writing, that's a gift. And if they don't? That's also okay. Because ultimately, the most important audience you need to please is yourself. Embrace your story, flaws and all. The world needs to hear it.