In a world where voices are often silenced by expectations and tradition, Quiet Girls Don’t Stay Quiet Forever traces the powerful journey of Mira — a young girl growing up under the weight of societal norms, yet yearning to be heard. From childhood dreams to confronting everyday gender bias, Mira’s story unveils the deep-rooted struggles that shape generations of women. Through her courage and self-discovery, the novel captures how reclaiming one’s voice can lead to healing, empowerment, and change. Both haunting and hopeful, this story reminds us that silence, once broken, can transform pain into strength.
- What inspired you to write Quiet Girls Don’t Stay Quiet Forever, and how did the idea for the story first come to you?
The seed for Quiet Girls Don’t Stay Quiet Forever was sown after I encountered countless real-life stories during my work with women—women whose voices were silenced in their homes, workplaces, and often within themselves. I saw how silence was not just the absence of speech but a survival mechanism for many women. Yet, beneath that silence lived resilience, creativity, and immeasurable courage.
This book is an attempt to transform those unheard whispers into echoes that cannot be ignored. My inspiration came from observing how women—whether in small towns or global boardrooms—carry within them the tension of duty versus desire, silence versus expression. This book is my way of honoring them, and also holding up a mirror to society. Though it is fiction, it does cover the real issues faced by women in society.
I wanted to create not just a story, but a movement—one that would raise awareness about gendered struggles, empower women to reclaim their voices, and open conversations around livelihood, education, and dignity. In the process, I wanted to pierce the deafening silence around deeply entrenched issues that continue to plague women in our society—such as the persistent desire for a boy child, everyday gender discrimination, and the unspoken burdens women silently carry across generations. - Can you describe your writing process? Do you follow a particular routine or have any personal rituals that help you enter a creative flow?
For me, writing is both discipline and devotion. I don’t follow a rigid daily schedule, but I create spaces where silence and reflection become my companions. Before I write, I often keep a cup of tea near me—it’s a quiet ritual that signals to my mind that it’s time to step into another world.
I also keep a journal where I record fragments—conversations I overhear, emotions I feel, or questions I grapple with. Many of these fragments later evolve into scenes or reflective pauses in my books.
What guides me most is intention. I never sit down simply to produce words—I sit down to create impact. Every chapter is written with the hope that someone, somewhere, will pause, reflect, and perhaps make a different choice: to listen more, to question biases, to support another woman’s journey, or to believe more deeply in their own worth. - The characters in your book are vivid and memorable. Were they inspired by real people, or did they emerge entirely from your imagination?
The characters are products of creative imagination. None of them are portraits of real people, but they carry fragments of many stories I’ve heard, overheard, or seen people experience in some way. In every Mira, Radha, and Manat and his father character , there are echoes of countless women and families I’ve encountered—women shouldering the burden of family instead of self, mothers torn between love and fear, daughters carrying the weight of expectations, and siblings navigating unspoken inequalities.
I have also come across various anecdotes and cases that became sources of motivation.
Most importantly, these characters aren’t just about pain—they embody resilience, hope, and the possibility of change. I believe that every woman who reads this will find parts of her own story reflected in these pages.
I also hope that through this book, women learn to be more empathetic and compassionate toward one another. Too often, women are pitted against women, and in that struggle, we forget that each of us needs a comforting corner, a shoulder to lean on, and a voice that says, “You are not alone.” If my words can create even a fraction of that safe space, then the book has done its work. - Your novel explores powerful social themes. What motivated you to delve into these topics, and what do you hope readers will take away from the story?
My motivation stems from a blend of observations and conversations. Over the years, I’ve witnessed how silence often becomes the unspoken language of women—whether within families, at workplaces, or in society at large. I have encountered countless anecdotes of women carrying invisible scars, navigating unspoken rules, or being forced to shrink themselves to fit expectations. These moments left a deep imprint on me, and I knew I wanted to create a story that doesn’t just highlight pain but also celebrates the resilience and courage that lie beneath it.
Through Quiet Girls Don’t Stay Quiet Forever, I wanted to explore the complexity of what it means to grow up, love, and survive in a world that often dictates your identity. My hope is that readers—especially women—find validation, empathy, and strength in these pages. I want this book to spark discussions about how we treat each other, and more importantly, how women can extend compassion and solidarity to other women.
Because at the end of the day, we all need a comforting corner, a shoulder to lean on, and a reminder that our stories matter. If even one reader walks away feeling less alone or more determined to support another woman’s journey, then the book has achieved its true purpose. - The world-building in your novel feels authentic and immersive. How did you go about creating the setting, and did real-life places or experiences influence it?
The setting in Quiet Girls Don’t Stay Quiet Forever isn’t built from fantasy landscapes or imagined geographies—it is fiction, but it draws deeply from real societal issues and ordinary spaces that often hide extraordinary struggles. I found inspiration in various conversations, neighborhoods, and people—places where traditions, expectations, and silence can weigh heavier than walls.
Festivals like Navratri, everyday school playgrounds, and family dining tables became powerful stages where emotions, conflicts, and unspoken hierarchies quietly play out. I also absorbed a lot from real conversations, observations, and stories shared over the years.
While not tied to any single real-world location or event, the atmosphere reflects the collective history of women in South Asian households—the weight of generational silence, the contradictions of reverence and restriction, and the ongoing struggle to redefine identity.
My goal was to create a fictional world that feels deeply familiar to readers—so much so that they see their own streets, living rooms, and memories reflected in Mira’s journey. In that sense, the setting is not just a backdrop; it’s almost a character in itself, mirroring how culture and society quietly shape our choices, our voices, and ultimately, our stories. - As a writer, how do you balance originality with readers’ expectations of the genre? Did you face any challenges while giving your story a unique voice?
For me, originality comes from honesty. The themes I explore—gender roles, silenced voices, family dynamics—are not new in themselves. What makes them original is the lens I bring, shaped by the countless stories I have heard. Rather than trying to “reinvent” the genre, I chose to infuse it with raw authenticity—capturing the subtleties of everyday life that often go unnoticed.
Think of this: when guests arrive at a home, men are often free to sit in the living room, talk, and be entertained, while women are expected to disappear into the kitchen—cooking, serving, cleaning—often without ever really joining the conversation. The difference is stark: one group gets to enjoy the event as participants, while the other is burdened with making the event happen. These are the quiet inequities we normalize, and it is exactly these lived contrasts that I wanted to bring out through my writing.
I am not saying it is easy for men—modern pressures affect both—but the truth is that the weight is often a little harsher for women. The challenge in writing was to highlight these truths without turning them into stereotypes. I wanted my characters to be layered: vulnerable yet resilient, bound by tradition yet quietly rewriting it.
My aim was to make the familiar intimate—to allow readers to not just read about Mira’s world but to recognize parts of their own in it. Ultimately, I believe readers don’t come to books only for novelty; they come for truth wrapped in story. My responsibility was to ensure that even within a familiar framework, the emotions and voices felt urgent, relevant, and deeply personal. - The pacing of your novel keeps readers deeply engaged. How did you maintain tension and momentum throughout the narrative?
For me, pacing is about rhythm—knowing when to pause and when to push forward. I approached it the way life itself unfolds: moments of quiet reflection followed by sudden turns that demand strength and response. I was very mindful of not overwhelming the reader with constant heaviness, yet at the same time, I didn’t want the silences and struggles of my characters to lose their urgency.
I built momentum by weaving small, everyday conflicts that echo larger societal issues—whether it’s a woman juggling invisible household expectations after a long workday or subtle reminders of how women’s voices are dismissed in public spaces. These micro-moments build into waves of tension, so that by the time readers reach the more intense scenes, they already feel emotionally invested.
The key was balance: letting readers breathe, then gently nudging them into the next layer of discomfort or realization. My hope is that the story mirrors real life—sometimes slow, sometimes sudden—but always moving toward awareness, healing, and empowerment. - In today’s fast-changing world of media and storytelling, how do you think traditional narratives are evolving, and how do you adapt your writing to connect with modern readers?
Traditional storytelling will always have a heartbeat—it carries the essence of human connection, shared values, and cultural memory. What is changing is not the core of storytelling but the way it is delivered and consumed. Readers today seek authenticity and relatability; they want stories that feel like conversations rather than lectures.
In my writing, I adapt by blending the timeless with the contemporary. I hold on to traditional elements—characters rooted in family, society, and everyday struggles—but present them in a way that resonates with modern readers who are juggling fast-paced lives, shifting roles, and complex identities.
I weave in themes like women’s empowerment, empathy, and healing, not as abstract ideas but as lived experiences that readers can see themselves reflected in. And I am sure readers will connect with some part of Mira’s story.
Let me also emphasize that this is not a book for women only. Men, too, need to read and resonate with these stories—to reflect on how they can contribute to creating a happier, more equal space for everyone—because change is, of course, always teamwork, and whether at home or in the workplace, it is a joint venture.
I believe stories today must do more than entertain—they must create awareness, inspire dialogue, and, where possible, open pathways for change. For me, adapting to contemporary audiences means making my book not just a story, but also a movement—a tool for conversations in book clubs, NGOs, and academic spaces. In this way, the tradition of storytelling evolves into a bridge—between generations, cultures, and most importantly, between voices that deserve to be heard.
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