Ashwin sanghi krishna key pdf

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westland ltd THE KRISHNA KEY Ashwin Sanghi's first novel, The Rozabal Line, was self-published in under his pseudonym, Shawn Haigins. 1 J p #L if* Uw westland ltd THE KRISHNA KEY Ashwin Sanghi's first novel, The The Krishna Key, Ashwin's third novel, is a furiously paced and riveting thriller Download link: • Krishna . The Krishna Key - Download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read online. Ashwin Sanghi.

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Ashwin Sanghi Krishna Key Pdf

Five thousand years ago, there came to earth a magicalbeing called Krishna, who brought about innumerablemiracles for the good of mankind. Humanity. the krishna key ashwin sanghi free pdf Just follow this link and you can find his books - Ashwin Sanghi Archives - Read A Where can I get the 13 Steps to Bloody Good Luck by Ashwin Sanghi PDF? Are the facts mentioned by Ashwin Sanghi in the book The Krishna Key real?.

Plot summary[ edit ] The Krishna Key centers around Ravi Mohan Saini, the protagonist and a historian who has been accused of the murder of his childhood friend Anil Varshney. In an attempt to clear his name, Saini looks into the past of Indian Mythology's grey areas and uncovers the truth about a serial killer who believes himself to be Kalki , the final avatar of Lord Vishnu. The plot involves four different pieces of a seal which must be brought together to solve the puzzle. Each part of the seal is in the possession of different people who are the descendants of the Yadava tribe, namely Saini , Bojaraj, Varshney and Chhedi. The author narrates a detailed version of the post- Mahabharatha history through the protagonist, a distinguished professor of history, who himself happens to be a lineal descendant of Lord Krishna being from Saini tribe of Punjab. The author also portrays the biography of Lord Krishna in his own words, in parallel to the main story-line. Research[ edit ] Sanghi stated that he "wanted to do a story in connection with the Mahabharata, but not retelling of the epic which has already been done" and undertook a month's research, saying that he "had to be extremely cautious in dealing with this topic as we put a premium on personal belief and faith".

It's going to be a LONG one, so p I hadn't read any of Sanghi's books before picking this up, but if his writing skills in the Krishna Key is anything to go by, then I can safely say I dodged a couple of bullets. If anybody is labouring under the delusion that this is a book with a plot or a story, filled with action, intrigue, conflicts, resolutions and happy endings, let me stop you right here. This isn't so much a novel as one giant-ass lesson in history, mythology and theology.

Sanghi has made use of the omniscient POV my least favourite kind while writing this book. This means that we get to know everything, everyone of the characters is thinking or saying or doing at all times - which can be an overload of information. It also means, we don't get to spend enough quality time with any of the characters to be able to develop an attachment to them, and end up not caring about anything that happens to any of them - One of the characters nearly dies in an avalanche!


Don't care. He is bleeding to death!

All of a sudden, with nothing leading to it whatsoever, they're in love now! Watching paint dry is more exciting than these two. They are trapped in a cave-in! Can we get on with the story already?

The writing is awful. The descriptions of characters are extremely cringe-worthy and give the impression that Sanghi has only the vaguest ideas of how most Indians look like - - [He] had been blessed with godlike physical charms and unblemished complexion Half the time, the characters say things that are so unbelievable, that even suspension of disbelief doesn't quite work here. Imagine, if you will, an Indian cop who says things like - "Cat got your tongue?

The Krishna Key

You can check in any time but you can never leave! The editing is careless, to say the least. I can recall two instances page and where Radhika and Saini are referred to as Priya, respectively.

At one point, Saini, an Indian professor, says to Priya, fellow Indian - "For your information, a yojana is about nine American miles Excuse me?? Since when did Indians stop using the metric system?? The novel continues to dominate the fiction charts.

Ashwin is an entrepreneur by profession but writing historical fiction in the thriller genre is his passion and hobby. He holds a masters degree from Yale and is working towards a Ph.

The Krishna Key by Ashwin Sanghi

Ashwin lives in Mumbai with his wife, Anushika, and his son, Raghuvir. To connect with Ashwin on email or social media please visit his website at. Road, Opp. Maduravoyal Municipal office, Chennai No.

The Krishna Key

They are my inspiration, my life and my very breath. I am beholden to my parents, Mahendra and Manju, who supported me in all my endeavours, including my writing. Also, many thanks to my brother and sister, Vaibhav and Vidhi, who picked up the slack, at work, and at home, while I was working on this project. My aunt, Aparna Gupta, is my eternal friend and guide, but has never hesitated to critique my work. I am thankful to her for playing the role of sounding-board while this novel was a work in progress.

I am grateful to my editor, Prita Maitra, and my publisher, Gautam Padmanabhan, without whom none of my novels, including this one, would have emerged from their manuscripts. Gunjan Ahlawat and Kunal Kundu deserve special mention for the beautiful cover design as also Vipin Vijay for putting it all together. My thanks to Rupesh Talaskar for the illustrations inside the pages of this novel.

My gratitude, also, to Vishwajeet Sapan for the key Sanskrit translations. A big thank you to Ameya Naik and Kushal Gopalka who helped create the audio track of the central shloka of this novel. I am thankful to various authors and producers of original or derived works. A separate acknowledgements section at the end of the narrative lists these in detail. Their blessings move the fingers that hold my pen. Finally, I am deeply aware of the fact that when I sit down to write, the words that flow from mind to matter are merely through me, not from me.

How do I convey my thanks to the real writer—the formless, shapeless and endless Almighty—for his blessings? Flipping to the back of the book prematurely may result in your inadvertently viewing some images that could act as plot-spoilers, hence this is not advised.

No claim regarding historical accuracy is made expressly or implied. Historical, religious or mythological characters; historical or legendary events; or names of places are always used fictitiously. Did He will it?

One of my ancestors was King Yayati. The curse was that Yayati would grow old prematurely and thus be unable to enjoy the pleasures of his youth and potency. Later, Shukracharya relented and softened the blow: Yayati would be spared if one of his sons, Yadu or Puru, accepted the consequences of the curse. The older son, Yadu, refused, but the younger, Puru, agreed to take it on himself. As a reward, Yayati chose Puru to succeed him as king, in place of Yadu.

The unlucky Yadu left his home and settled down in Mathura where his lineage flourished. Yadavas, since then, have been king-makers, but never kings. Puru went on to become the patriarch of the kingdom of Hastinapur—into which the families of the Kauravas and Pandavas were born.

Anil Varshney did not know that he had less than twelve minutes left to live. His modest house in the Hanumangarh district of Rajasthan was deathly quiet at this hour except for the humming of the desert cooler. Varshney loved the silence. It allowed him to immerse himself entirely in the strange letterings and symbols that lay before him. Fluent in over fifteen languages, Varshney had ten publications to his credit including the most widely used multilingual dictionary of Indian languages.

In the diivei's seat was a satisfied young man, content at having completed his task as pei plan.

On the seat next to him was a zipped-up belt bag that contained the tools of his tiade. His eyes iemained glued to the ioad befoie him but they seemed almost lifeless and iobot-like. He was just a little ovei five feet and seven inches tall, but his uppei toiso was like that of a bodybuildei, the evidence of many woikouts on a multi gym.

His haii was jet-black and ciopped to a militaiy ciew-cut. Taaiak Vakil's flight fiom 1aipui to Mumbai had been delayed and by the time that he had picked up his cai fiom the extended-stay paiking lot at the aiipoit, it was past midnight. He piessed the powei button of his cai's audio system to activate the music and the vehicle's aii-conditioned inteiiois weie soon diowned in a Sanskiit chant. It was the same veise that he had painted on Anil Vaishney's wall.

The sign outside simply boie the name of the businessSambhala Stud Iaim. His fathei, Di V. Shaima, had staited the business of bieeding hoises with five maies and a stallion aftei completing veteiinaiy tiaining in the Sixties.

It had been an uphill stiuggle that had eventually paid off. Sambhala now bied the finest deiby winneis in the countiy and was among the top two hundied listed companies on the Bombay Stock Exchange. Taaiak diove down the winding ioad and passed the equine viewing galleiy, the automated hoise- walkeis, exeicising tuif tiacks, veteiinaiy clinic, and stables.

Sambhala had giown fiom a couple of acies to India's laigest integiated hoise-bieeding infiastiuctuie, spiead out ovei an aiea of just undei a hundied acies.

The BMW X3 sped past the gentle incline of the ioad until it ieached the paiking space designated foi it just outside the spiawling countiy home. He tuined off the engine, took the belt bag off the seat, got out of the vehicle and ian diiectly to a side- entiance that led to his suite of iooms. It allowed him to come and go as he pleased without having to use the main entiance used by his paients. If you love youi childien, you must let them spiout wings and fly,' Di Shaima had said to his wife.

He no longei uses the name that we gave him at biithSampat Shaimaand instead goes by the iidiculous name of Taaiak Vakil.

I nevei know when he comes oi goes.