Book Review of Her Prince Charming by Sundari Venkatraman

Imagine a Cinderella story retold in modern times, well… not to modern actually, This one is set in the year 1975.

Plot of Her Prince Charming

It’s instantaneous attraction when Tanuja Bhatia from Delhi meets Raj Malhotra from Bombay at the Bombay Central Station.The mutual attraction soon blossoms into love over the next couple of meetings. Tanuja and her simple father fail to see the crisis brewing in their own home. Her not-so-nice stepmother Gurinder is totally against the idea of Tanuja meeting her Prince Charming which would make her step-sister Harpreet seriously envious. By the way, Harpreet’s main aim in life is to simply make her half-sister miserable. While Raj’s parents and Tanuja’s father try to arrange a marriage between the two with a help of a mutual friend, the evil stepmother comes up with a plan of her own—to marry her stepdaughter off to Sonu, a good-for-nothing idiot. Can Her Prince Charming lift Tanuja out of this life of drudgery and boredom and give her the happiness she deserves?

What I liked about Her Prince Charming

A simple love story without too many complications or over analysing of feelings. I generally dislike stories where the characters (female leads, mostly) think and think and think and then need someone else to knock sense into them. Very few authors get it right. Varsha Dixit does that style well and the Sundari Venkatraman books I have read steer clear of it.In Her Prince Charming, the characters accept the attraction and don’t fight it. The best thing about this book is the character arcs. Each character is thought through and has specific traits that are brought out by their actions and dialogues, not merely the author’s description.

What I did not like about Her Prince Charming

I felt there was something lacking in the conflict resolution. A love marriage in 1975 was not as common or easily accepted as it is today. In Her Prince Charming, the conflicts just seemed to melt away. The characters had it fairly easy and did not bleed as much. You’d expect resistance from family. There isn’t any. Though I must admit it is quite cleverly handled in the story telling.

Final Thoughts about Her Prince Charming

This is one Cinderella story where our heroine is not a shrinking violet. She knows how to handle the evil stepmother and does not get left behind for the ball! A light romantic book that does leaving you feeling warm and fuzzy. Also, this was a paperback. Sundari has ventured into publishing and I must say for the maiden, this book was very well turned out. A professional job through and through.

About Sundari Venkatraman

An Autograph For Anjali Author Sundari Venkatramanan — Sundari Venkatramanan

Sundari Venkatraman is an indie author who has 42 titles – 38 books & 4 collections to her name, all Top 100 Bestsellers on Amazon India, Amazon USA, Amazon UK, Amazon Canada and Amazon Australia in both romance as well as Asian Drama categories. Her latest romances have all been on #1 Bestseller slot in Amazon India for over a month. Even as a kid, Sundari absolutely loved the ‘lived happily ever after’ syndrome as she grew up reading all the fairy tales she could lay her hands on, Phantom comics, Mandrake comics and the like. It was always about good triumphing over evil and a happy end. Soon, into her teens, Sundari switched her attention from fairy tales to Mills&Boon. While she loved reading both of these, she kept visualising what would have happened if there were similar situations happening in India; to a local hero and heroine. Her imagination took flight and she always lived in a rosy cocoon of romance over the years. Then came the writing – a true bolt out of the blue! And Sundari Venkatraman has never looked back.

Browse more books by Sundari

Read an Excerpt:

Tanuja stood at the entrance to the bogie, guarding the luggage as the train slowed down to enter Bombay Central Station, excitement in her heart as her eyes devoured the sights. It had been a long time since the Bhatia family had gone on a holiday, all together. It had always been her stepmother and her half-sisters who went on bi-annual trips, leaving Tanuja and her father at home. But, of course, both of them appreciated the peaceful times while the other three were gone. In fact, Tanuja considered those interludes the best holidays ever.
Just before the train stopped, she caught sight of a tall man in pristine white trousers and half-shirt, holding a placard which read, ‘Talveer Bhatia’. Her charcoal black eyes went wide when they met the dark brown of the man’s bold gaze, a soft blush tainting her cheeks before she turned away to address her father who was standing behind the three suitcases. “Papa, the car driver’s here, I think. See that man over there,” she pointed a slim index finger in the direction of the man as her father craned his neck to look out, “he’s holding a cardboard placard with your name on it.”
Talveer nodded his head at his eldest daughter, a soft smile on his tired face. “Let’s get the luggage out,” he said, watching Tanuja get off on to the platform. The father-daughter duo shook their heads at the porters who offered to take their luggage as Talveer handed the suitcases one-by-one to Tanuja.
“Have you got all the suitcases out?” asked Gurinder in her usual harsh voice, a frown on her face as she glared at her step-daughter and husband.
“Yes, aunty,” said Tanuja, taking the large bag that Gurinder was holding in her hands, before helping her out of the train.
Harpreet and Jaspreet giggled as they watched their plump mother struggle to step down onto the platform, not bothering to help her. They each held a tote bag carrying their make-up articles and other fancy stuff which they naively believed were absolute necessities in Bombay.
Talveer lifted his head to see Raj Malhotra walking in their direction with the placard, waving to him. “I’m Talveer Bhatia. Are you the driver who has come to pick us up from Malhotra Cabs?”
“Yes sir. My name is Raj,” said Raj, shaking Talveer’s hand, forgetting that drivers may be considered too menial to shake hands with customers who hired cars from their company, his gaze taking in the family of five even as it lingered for a few seconds longer on Tanuja’s beautiful face.
Gurinder glared at him. “You are the driver who will be driving us to Mahabaleshwar?”

“Haanji ma’am.”

“Apni aukat mein raho. What’s with the shaking hands? Can’t you do a namaste? Kyunji,” as she frowningly glanced at her husband, “can’t you tell the man that instead of shaking his hand?”

Tanuja felt highly embarrassed by Gurinder’s harsh words. What was wrong if the man had shaken her father’s hand? Why did her stepmother have to shout for such a trivial thing?

Before her father could open his mouth, the driver said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. Please forgive me. It won’t happen again.”

Gurinder looked the man up and down before ordering, “Chalo, take all the suitcases and let’s go to the waiting room.”

Without asking a question, Raj lifted two heavy suitcases in both his hands before turning in the direction of the first-class waiting room. Tanuja bent down to take the third one, giving him a shy nod, a small smile touching her lips. Her mouth had the appearance of a rosebud to the man who walked ahead of her.

It took the Bhatia family about an hour to get ready. Raj waited patiently as he read the day’s newspaper before Talveer walked out from the men’s waiting room. Tanuja was the first to get ready and she also walked out to the platform on seeing her father. She couldn’t help being fascinated by the handsome driver as she studied him from the corner of her eyes from time to time, not saying anything while she watched her father chat with him.

“I am also from Delhi, Talveerji,” said Raj, answering the other man when asked.

Talveer smiled widely. “I did wonder about the accent,” he said, patting the younger man on his shoulder.

They chatted some more about their hometown but mainly in Hindi. “If you are educated, how come you are working as a driver?” There was curiosity in Talveer’s dark gaze as he looked up at the driver who towered over him by many inches.

Raj was careful enough to speak English exactly the way his drivers spoke. Shrugging, he said, “I am setting up my own business.” Okay, it was a slight variation from the truth as his garment factory was already set up and running smoothly. But he couldn’t very well tell the client that. “In the meanwhile, this is a good way to make money, without having to work under someone.” It was with difficulty that he managed to keep his gaze on Talveer Bhatia and not let it stray to the young woman who, he presumed, must be the man’s daughter. She was simply too beautiful for words.

Talveer nodded his head vigorously, thoroughly approving of the other man’s sentiments. “So what business are you setting up?”

“Manufacturing of garments, Talveerji.” No, he had no plans to tell them the magnitude of his business, that he had invested almost ten lakh rupees and only twenty percent of the total had been raised through a bank loan. The rest was entirely from his own savings. Raj had slogged from the day he arrived in Bombay five years ago. He had refused to use his father’s money and had earned his own money starting from scratch. He had led a comfortable life but it wasn’t half as luxurious as the one he was used to at his home in Delhi. He had converted all the leftover money to gold. When he began purchasing gold in 1971, six months after he moved to Bombay, the price for ten grams had been less than Rs. 200. Over the last five years, the price had risen dramatically to Rs. 540. He had also persuaded his father to buy small bungalows in Mahabaleshwar and Matheran.

So, at the age of twenty-six, where a lot of young boys are still whiling away their time, Raj had set up his very own garment unit. And there was also the flat that he had purchased in Matunga, where he lived now.

Talveer nodded, even as his eyes kept turning towards the women’s waiting room, wondering about his wife and daughters. He looked at his eldest born and said, “Tanu, why don’t you go and find out if everyone is ready?”

“Theek hai, Papa,” said Tanuja in a soft voice before walking towards the waiting room, her steps dragging. As if the three of them would care.

“Madam, it would be nice if you could tell them that we have to travel for eight hours before reaching our destination.” Raj called out to Tanuja’s retreating back.

She stopped in her tracks, wondering if she had heard right. Had he called her ‘madam’? She turned around with a smile, her cheeks dimpling when her gaze caught his dark one, a dark wing-shaped eyebrow raised in query. “Were you talking to me?”

“Ji! It will take us eight hours to reach Mahabaleshwar,” said Raj, looking into her black gaze and rapidly found himself drowning in them, unable to stop the answering smile on his face.

Why was he addressing her as if she was fifty years old? Tanuja realised that she didn’t like it at all. But then, she didn’t want to say anything in front of her father. She nodded her head before turning away from him to continue towards the waiting room door.

After ensuring her father’s gaze was turned away from him, Raj looked at her retreating figure encased in a salwar kameez which faithfully hugged her slender body. She could have passed off for an apsara from heaven, he thought.

This Tour is Hosted by