Devdutt Pattanaik says “fact is everyone’s truth, fiction is no one’s truth, and mythology is someone’s truth.” David Sedaris, my spirit animal in human form, once said everything he writes—no matter how bizarre—is his version of the truth. I’ve written plenty of nonfiction—DIY self-help and all that sensible, well-behaved stuff—but it’s in my fiction that I tell my truth. Or, as I like to call it, my twisted reality. It’s honest, it’s weird, and it’s shaped by growing up South Asian in a culture where revolution and repressed emotions coexisted long before WhatsApp threads gave them a group chat.

That’s exactly what Vermilion Harvest: Playtime at the Bagh is—part family history, part political thriller, part love letter to the chaos of identity. Set in Colonial India, inspired by my grandfather’s life, it absolutely refuses to sit still or behave.