Goddess Fish Promotions – The Crimson Mirage Book Tour

GENRE: Political Psychological Thriller

Blurb

Naïve Passionate Dangerous.
Manush is all of these—and more. Caught between the heat of first love and the fire of
revolution, he confuses desire with destiny and activism with annihilation. What begins with
tender hope ends in blood-soaked betrayal.
Set against the turbulent backdrop of Calcutta’s Naxalite uprising, this haunting debut novel
unravels the journey of a boy-turned-assassin—his convictions twisted, his soul scarred, his
story unforgettable.
The author grew up in the heart of this upheaval, witnessing firsthand how political fervor tore
through families and futures. Crimson Mirage is not just fiction—it’s a reckoning. A meditation on
blind love, brutal reprisals, and the elusive promise of freedom.

EXCERPT

WASH YOUR HANDS!” the ice-cold voice cut through the stillness of the crisp mountain air and broke through his zombie state.
Manush didn’t remember how long he had been sitting on the rock!
The sun had slid slowly, silently below the horizon of the San Bernardino Mountains. The wind was freshening. The clouds riding the salty air of the Pacific Ocean were changing shade, from angry yellow to flaming crimson, in the harsh, upward glare of a late sunset hour. Venus was still the brightest speck in the sky in the midst of the orange-gold scatter of softly gathering
twilight.

From not too far off, a mountain goat with cloven hooves—browsing brush and low-growing shrubs—sidled up to him, fixing its malevolent, yellow gaze on him. Far overhead, a homebound chickadee went ‘chickadee-dee-dee’ as it traced its solitary path eastwards.

To the northwest, the cliffs fell sheer to the ravine below, their surface unbroken. The shadows were lengthening across the vast valley lying snugly among the hills. And now, there were blotches of darkness slowly eating away the green. But the full umbra of the sun’s retirement
was yet to descend upon the sprawling, rugged landscape.
“Wash your hands!” the voice was insistent in its urgency.
Manush sat upright with a start. He convulsed—first in astonishment, then with fear—as he looked incredulously at Jeevan.
Jeevan was smiling… his usual shy, reassured smile. He had not aged at all! His thick black hair swept back from his forehead, the creaseless, unblemished young skin on his face a contrast to the light growth of hair on his chin. Jeevan looked just like the post-mortem photograph the police had shown him.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:
The author is a professional who grew up in Kolkata during the turbulent times that serve as the
backdrop of this novel. He has written short stories and articles. This is his debut novel. More of
his writing at  - babujee.substack.com/archive.
Website - https://mailchi.mp/996745dceee3/crimson-mirage
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Crimson-Mirage-Red-Road-Romance-
ebook/dp/B0FNKXKRFD/

GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER

Babujee will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner.

Losers as Heros

Today, I want to discuss an uncomfortable topic. Some of you may not like it, but sometimes it’s worthwhile to step outside the protective shell we’ve built around us and confront truths that challenge us.

Can we truly empathize with a “loser” in a world fixated on hero worship? Reflect on this—would you be drawn to the story of someone who has seemingly never won?

In my novel, “Crimson Mirage” (CM), I chose an unconventional protagonist, Manush. Traditionally, heroes or heroines are depicted as morally or physically strong figures. They shape the narrative, or the narrative transforms them into victors. But Manush defies this archetype. While the story unfolds mostly from his perspective, he is far from the hero we’re accustomed to. At the same time, he isn’t the archetypal villain, like Darth Vader or Gabbar Singh—the dominating, glorified antagonist with a dramatic, glamorous demise. Instead, he’s a loose leaf, blown from one disaster to another by circumstances, poor choices, and fate.

Manush begins as a likable, naive young man, but his journey is a downward spiral. He becomes a ruthless political assassin, entangled in a confusing mix of love or infatuation, betrays his friends, abandons his political ideology, becomes a snitch, flees the country, and eventually kills someone in a fit of misplaced rage. This is not the knight in shining armor who overcomes impossible odds to triumph in the final act.

Most mainstream stories—from the ancient tales of Gilgamesh to modern Marvel movies—follow this well-loved formula: the hero battles against insurmountable challenges emerges victorious, and basks in our applause, often with a beautiful partner by their side.

But CM tells a very different story. We leave Manush, our protagonist, mumbling to a dead friend, attempting to justify his failures and validate his broken life.

In American culture, such individuals are labeled as “losers.” Europeans are slightly gentler, calling them “unfortunate,” as if Lady Fortuna simply turned her back on them. Their plans faltered, their love remained unreciprocated, and their efforts led to dead ends.

Yes, there have been stories about so-called losers before, but they’re often romanticized. These characters are given noble causes or unshakable moral convictions that make us root for them. But can someone as flawed and lost as Manush still retain a shred of humanity that makes us care?

Be honest with yourself—haven’t you experienced failure at some point? Even the metaphorical “rock stars” among us face low moments. Think of the time you didn’t make the cut, even though you were ready. Or the moment you missed that crucial shot, and everyone blamed you for the loss. Maybe they rejected your story, even though you poured your soul into it.

We bury these memories deep, convincing ourselves that they don’t matter. Instead, we exalt fictional heroes who embody the success we crave.

But I didn’t write about billionaire romances, zombies, werewolves, or magical spells. I wrote about real life—its heartbreak, cruelty, and violence. CM is about us: imperfect, vulnerable people with unfulfilled dreams. The “losers.”

Manush, like a blind mouse trapped in a dark room, gropes desperately for a way out. The harder he tries, the more he becomes ensnared in betrayal and deceit.

For centuries, we’ve been raised on tales of heroes with perfect morals and extraordinary bravery, who achieve the impossible and emerge victorious. But what about the countless others—the ocean of people who fight and lose, who try and fail, who want but never receive? They don’t get the lucky break or hold the winning hand. Their morals are as flexible as their circumstances. Few dare write their stories.

When you read this novel, you may hate Manush’s weakness, his betrayal, and his self-serving choices. Yet somewhere in his story, you might find a reflection of your own struggles—moments when you weren’t at your best or when survival meant bending your principles a little bit.

At the end of the novel, you might feel a lump in your throat or even shed a tear. That’s all the flawed Manush—whose name means “human” in Bengali—deserves. Despite his efforts, Lady Fortuna never smiled upon him.