first wash of watercolour
Indigo ink outlines
pencil sketch
first wash of watercolour
Indigo ink outlines
pencil sketch
Yesterday I took a photo of Babar while he was sleeping on an ornate bed spread, accidentally composing an image almost similar to a painting I made a few years back.
A short video of Babar’s adventure. Get a copy of the book here,
Here are the first 20 pages of Babar And The Wolves In The Forest.
The book has 40 illustrated pages. It is a coming of age story of one dog’s adventure in the hills of the Himalayas. It is also
a story of friendship between two dogs, Babar and Sheru.
Find out how Babar learn an important lesson in life after a frightening encounter
with wolves in the forest.
I am extremely overwhelmed by my friends and by reader’s response to my new book, Babar And The Wolves In The Forest.
Here are some of my top favorites:
and from a reader in Goodreads:
If you read the book and want to leave a review and ratings, I would appreciate it, if you do so at Goodreads. Here is the link to my book there:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20879490-babar-and-the-wolves-in-the-forest
Thank you so much for taking the time to read it. 🙂
My new e-book for children, Babar And The Wolves In The Forest, is going to be longer and will have a deeper subject matter than the first one. It’s a coming of age story of friendship and loss. In this adventure, Babar learned that being frivolous with someone’s safety can have life threatening consequences.
At two year old, Babar still displays his puppy cuteness once in a while but sans his tasmanian devil-like energy which nearly drove hubby and I to the mad house when he was just months old. Our house has resumed its peace and order which in two years I have almost forgotten what feels like. He also stopped stealing pillows and wrestling with it. I can make up the bed without keeping the pillows inside the closet or out of his reach. I can again display my favorite Indian cushions on the sofa without its guts getting ripped out.
I have also returned my books to a low bookshelf ( almost level to his snout) and arrange it together with some wooden knick knacks we collected during our travels without worrying them being knockdown and chewed to pieces. I even placed some hard bound books on the coffee table without the fear of him snatching it and tearing the pages apart. Oh how I mourn the literary casualties my book collection suffered during one of his manic moments. A book of short stories by Saki lay wounded and spineless somewhere in one of the cabinets. Baudolino by Umberto Eco is defaced, hidden in between his other books. Continue reading