Beyond the Pages: An Interview with Author Siddhartha Vankar

Siddhartha Vankar is a multi-faceted storyteller, blending television, creative direction, and fiction writing with cinematic flair. He holds a postgraduate degree from the Manipal Institute of Communication and is a celebrated creative director in Indian television.

Siddhartha carved his niche in Indian television as a creative director and showrunner on major series like Ghum Hai Kisikey Pyaar Mein, Balika Vadhu, and Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi. He’s also credited for directing Deewaniyat in 2024.

A lifelong reader with a soft spot for mythological and literary classics—his early influences include Kafka on the Shore—he transitioned from scripting serials to authoring novels that echo his narrative strengths.

His debut novel, Love at Manipal, surfaced after a 12-year creative journey and received positive reader feedback. His follow-up, Sitara, launched two years later, marking his evolution and consistency as a novelist. He’s currently working on a third project, tentatively titled Amaltas.

Based in Mumbai with his wife Kritika and daughter Katha, Siddhartha balances his time between bustling sets, writing drafts in cafés or quiet corners, and exploring themes rooted in mythology, identity, and the human heart.

What experiences or influences inspired you to pursue a career in writing?

Writing wasn’t a career choice for me; it was oxygen. I grew up around stories—some whispered behind closed doors, some shouted at dinner tables, and some buried so deep they only came out in dreams. I write because I simply cannot not write. Words became both my escape and my cure.

Could you walk us through your writing process? Do you follow any specific routines or rituals that help you stay focused and motivated?

My process is gloriously messy. I light a diya, sometimes play Jagjit Singh, sometimes Pink Floyd, depending on whether the scene demands nostalgia or rebellion. Coffee is the constant, guilt is the co-writer, and deadlines are the cruel but effective editors. I don’t chase routines; I chase honesty.

What challenges did you face while writing your book(s), and how did you overcome them?

The loudest challenge was my own inner critic. That little voice asking: “Who are you to tell this story?” I learned not to silence it but to outwrite it — one page at a time. Challenges don’t disappear; you just learn to dance with them. They become your biggest reason for you to become better. 

Which authors or books have had the greatest impact on your writing style, and what do you admire most about their work?

My bookshelf is chaos theory at work: Kalidasa’s metaphors, Woolf’s interior worlds, Gulzar’s tenderness, Dan Brown’s pacing. What I admire is how each of them doesn’t just write a plot — they create entire worlds you can walk into.

What essential skills do you believe are crucial for an author to succeed in their writing career?

Observation, imagination, and resilience. I am always curious to know stories of people I see in flights… restaurants… malls… even drops on the conversations and they stay with me. You need to notice the unsaid, dream what doesn’t exist, and survive the days when nothing works. And maybe a dash of selfishness— enough to believe your words deserve to exist.

What does a typical morning look like for you?

It’s a tug-of-war between the snooze button and ambition. Some mornings I wake up like ‘come on let’s do this’; other mornings, like Kumbhakarna, I want six more months of sleep. Eventually, there’s ice on my face, chai in my system, and me staring down the blank page like it’s a worthy opponent.

How do you like to unwind after a long day of work?

Wine, ghazals, or an old Hollywood classic. Casablanca if I want dialogue, Sholay if I want drama, silence if I want sanity. Honestly, silence is the most underrated luxury. I love to unwind with a glass of wine and watching the 100th rerun of my most favourite shows. 

How do you prioritize self-care in your daily life?

By saying no. No to energy drainers, no to deadlines that suffocate, no to playing roles that aren’t mine. I’ve learned self-care isn’t always about candles and spa days — it’s about protecting your peace.

Are there any habits or rituals that have greatly contributed to your productivity?

Writing daily, even if it’s terrible. Bad words are the warm-up stretches before the marathon of good ones. Reading at least 10 pages a day, no matter how packed my schedule is. And remembering Hemingway’s golden truth: the first draft is always bad — the second is where the art begins.

In your opinion, what is the purpose of life?

To tell stories… atleast for me! Through words, through gestures, through expressions, through silences. If life has no grand design, then maybe the point is to create meaning out of the chaos. To love, to rebel, to remember, to narrate. Long after I am gone I want to be remembered as a person who told from heart! 

What is the most important lesson you've learned in your journey so far?

That failure isn’t the opposite of success — it’s part of the package. Every rejection slip, every heartbreak, every criticism taught me something a bestseller never could. Wisdom comes with bruises… also that you need to have perseverance… no matter what happens. You can’t afford to relax or let go till you win.  

How do you handle setbacks or failures, and what have they taught you?

With dark humor. If we can laugh in the at our own miseries no one will have a chance to laugh at you…  Setbacks taught me the same thing the Gita teaches: nothing is permanent. Not joy, not sorrow. You rise, you fall, you rise again. It’s a cycle we all have to go through… failure- success- failure- success! It goes on and on!

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Shakti: The Sacred Feminine

Book by Siddhartha Vankar

Published by Book Basket Publishers

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The book begins with a Prologue, narrating the story of Sati’s immolation and Shiva’s grief. Rather than focusing solely on Shiva’s pain or Vishnu’s intervention, it centres the voice of Sati/Shakti, who speaks from beyond dismemberment. She is not portrayed as a passive victim but as a goddess who chose fire to protest the dishonour of womanhood, reclaiming her body through divine fragmentation.

Each chapter is narrated as a monologue from the fallen part of the goddess’s body. This approach gives each Shakti Peetha unique personality, voice, and emotional tone, blending mythology with meditations on contemporary issues faced by women. The language is rich, lyrical, and filled with gravitas, echoing the tone of sacred texts while remaining deeply personal and rebellious.

The book is divided into 51 chapters, each dedicated to a Shakti Peeth and its associated Bhairav. Every chapter (3,000–5,000 words) combines mythology, introspection, and a feminist interpretation.

For example:

• Kamakhya (Womb): Focuses on the feminine power of creation and how the womb is revered yet controlled in patriarchal narratives.

• Kanchipuram (Bones): Peels away illusions of beauty to reveal the enduring strength of what lies beneath.

• Kalighat (Tongue): Celebrates the goddess’s untamed voice, encouraging women to speak with fearless truth.

• Mithila (Shoulder): Explores emotional burdens, separation, and how women carry the weight of expectations.

• Shankari (Spine): Examines resilience and spiritual alignment.

Each Bhairav appears not as a dominating male figure but as a guardian, witness, or companion who acknowledges and honours the goddess’s power.

The book traces a larger journey from fragmentation to wholeness. While each chapter stands alone, the narrative arc subtly builds towards the realization that the goddess was never truly broken. Her power is omnipresent, scattered across the land as living energy.

Key recurring themes include:

• The Sacredness of the Body: Each body part (hips, waist, throat, blood, skin, bones) is reimagined as divine, challenging patriarchal shame and restrictions around women’s bodies.

• Voice and Silence: Many chapters (Kalighat, Nandikeshwari, Jwalamukhi) focus on reclaiming a woman’s right to speak, sing, or roar.

• Endurance and Rage: Chapters like Ramgiri(Chest) and Bahula (Womb of Fire) explore how women transform suffering into strength.

• Movement and Freedom: Chapters dedicated to feet, ankles, and waist emphasize breaking boundaries and walking one’s own path.

The Epilogue: Devi Mahatmyam – The Song of the Unbroken Goddess gathers the threads of all 51 chapters. Here, Shakti addresses her daughters directly, saying that every woman is her temple, every voice her prayer. The epilogue reads like a feminist scripture, calling on women to claim their strength unapologetically.

This book is more than mythology—it is a spiritual and cultural reclamation of the feminine divine. It will appeal to readers of mythology, feminist literature, spiritual seekers, and anyone drawn to poetic prose with profound depth.