Dots That Connected - Book 1

I finally did it—my first book, ‘Dots That Connected’, is officially out!

In Dots That Connected, ordinary people find themselves standing at extraordinary crossroads—a surgeon haunted by unseen footsteps in the dark, a refugee family hiding in a mysterious cave house, a mother waiting after the storm has taken everything, a writer trapped inside his own fiction, a woman shaped by the pull of the zodiac, a silence that speaks too late, a journey of healing, and a young girl whose destiny begins with eyes the world has never seen.

From the whispers of memory to the terror of the unknown, from love that never found its voice to hope that refuses to die, these stories travel across continents, disasters, romances, and quiet revelations—showing how the smallest moments connect us in ways we never expect.

A moving, thrilling, and unforgettable collection about survival, fate, and invisible threads that bind us long before we notice them.

It is a collection of 8 stories that take you to extraordinary crossroads: a surgeon haunted by unseen footsteps, a mother waiting after a storm has taken everything, and a writer trapped inside his own fiction.

From the whispers of memory to the terror of the unknown—can you find the patterns that bind us?

I’ve been living with these characters for a while, and I’m so excited (and a little nervous!) to finally share them.

If you’re curious, it’s here.

Read Sample: https://read.amazon.com/sample/B0GDG1PGM7?f=1&l=en_US&r=ccad9725&rid=53SZ2TZQXRYZZ4AKTS1K&sid=132-6952214-0880821&ref_=litb_m

Indian Edition: https://store.pothi.com/book/kay-el-dots-connected/

Outside India Edition: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GDN63J6B

Kindle Edition: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GDN63J6B

Insta Highlight for teasers

Insta reel link

If you do take a look, a quick review on Amazon would be the best launch gift I could ask for!

Review Link: https://www.amazon.com/review/create-review/error?ie=UTF8&channel=glance-detail&asin=B0GDG1PGM7

Thanks

The Red-Vented Bulbul

    The Peepal Tree and the Birds: Stories from an Urban Balcony

Story Five: The Red-Vented Bulbul

Two of them moved through the branches together, hopping from twig to twig—always watching, always calling to one another.

Small, dark, restless, with a tiny red flame beneath the tail.
The Peepal had often seen the pair feeding and protecting their chicks.

Some said the red vent was the mark of a mother’s devotion, left by long days of guarding her young through danger and sleepless nights.

The old tree had often admired the bird’s quiet bravery—pretending to be injured, fluttering helplessly along the ground to lure a predator away from its nest.

For so small a bird, it carried a remarkably gallant and tender heart.

The old tree remembered lines from an ancient Persian poem:

The bulbul’s lament rises from the rose garden;
It has fallen in love with the rose and cannot be silent.

The little bulbuls of the Peepal seemed less romantically poetic than **Hafez’s nightingale—but no less fiercely devoted.

Back to Start: The Peepal Tree and The Birds: Stories from an urban balcony

The Coppersmith Barbet

  The Peepal Tree and the Birds: Stories from an Urban Balcony

Story Four: Coppersmith Barbet

A steady metallic note echoed through the morning air—somewhere a ghost in the canopy was striking metal: a craftsman, a metalsmith, heard everywhere, seen nowhere.

The Peepal knew this colorful little bird. It had grown up hearing its stories. Some said the bird had once been a coppersmith so devoted to his craft that even death could not stop his hammer.

Others believed the faster the little hammer rang, the hotter the day would grow. Farmers even predicted the rains by their call.

Tuk… tuk… tuk…

The small green bird with a red forehead sat quietly among the leaves, patiently striking its invisible anvil.

The wise Peepal watched.

Some birds sang for the bliss of it.
This one seemed to sing with a message.

Back to Start: The Peepal Tree and The Birds: Stories from an urban balcony

The Asian Green Bee Eater

   The Peepal Tree and the Birds: Stories from an Urban Balcony

Story Three: The Asian Green Bee-eater

It flew into the branch like a swift arrow just released from a bow—Lord Vishnu’s Śārṅga, as some called the bee-eaters.

Restless, the little bird flitted around playfully.

Then it perched on the electric cable passing through the Peepal’s branches.

The old, wise tree admired the small ball of green with tiny buttoned eyes and a bandit mask, like a little spy on quiet watch. It was the cutest of the lot.

The tree often wondered who would have thought this little soul could be trapped in unpleasant folklore. They said the bird carried poison in its mouth—the reincarnation of gossipers, forever chasing trouble through the air.

Such unfairness for such innocence.

In another legend, from a distant land, the bird was said to be a symbol of a second life granted by the Greek god Apollo after a grave mistake.

But the little green bird knew nothing of these tales.

Unaware, it simply watched the sky, rose into the light, and returned again to its quiet perch—content in its own tiny world.

Back to Start: The Peepal Tree and The Birds: Stories from an urban balcony

The Purple Sunbird

  The Peepal Tree and the Birds: Stories from an Urban Balcony

Story Two: The Purple Sunbird

The Peepal tree woke to a beautiful song.
A thin, high note rose through the morning air, bright and clear like a distant soprano greeting the day.

The tree searched its branches but saw nothing.
The singer was tiny, hidden among its twisted twigs.
The note came again.
A branch stirred.
The first rays of morning touched the feathers of the little bird—mid-song, its beak open and throat lifted to the sky—and it shone like a small jewel against the bright summer light.
A solitary singer, immersed in its own world, the dawn resting gently upon it as it poured its song into the waking air.

The Peepal listened.
And it remembered the words of Rabindranath Tagore:

Birds do not sing because they have something to say;

They sing because they have songs.

Back to Start: The Peepal Tree and The Birds: Stories from an urban balcony