Ravinder Singh's edited collection You Are All I Need features 25 stories by writers selected from Romedy Now's 'Get Published' challenge. A melting pot of heart-warming stories, these writers bring us love in all its undulations and shades. Here is a sneak peek for you from a few stories:

"The world is full of stories. We are full of stories.
We tell them every day, many times without even realizing. That's what we do when we write a caption underneath a picture we post on Instagram, or we text a friend about a break-up. We tell stories when we talk to our loved ones, we tell stories when we gather together and think about life gone by, we tell stories when recounting happiness, when we talk of sadness, moments of anger, moments of joy . . . And then, at some point, we want the other person to tell us their story and we listen to what they have to say. That's when we say: Aur batao (tell me more)!

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A Brief Reunion

– Dayal Punjabi

'What about getting out of here? We could have some ice cream. It's pretty humid up here.'

For a moment Rustom was paralysed, his eyes wide and his lips parted slightly. He couldn't believe those words had slipped out of David's mouth. They'd never even greeted each other when they were in school! He wouldn't know how to talk, to walk or to look better. And even though he'd mentally pictured them walking together, and even though he'd done it plenty of times as a young boy, it seemed so disconnected from his reality now—a lie. He couldn't react at first—it was as if his lips had lost their ability to move and his mind was clouded. His vocal cords felt as though they had collapsed and there was a lump stuck in his throat. He nevertheless nodded.

...Though it seemed like a lifetime ago that he had yearned for this man, and it had seemed lost when they parted ways, now, with David so close that he could reach out and touch him, Rustom felt like there was no other feeling deeper than this, and that he had never known anything more expansive. Certainly, he thought, no other love had started so far back in time—and now it had only grown and spread throughout his body.

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Arjun

– Maria K. Jimmy

Devotees flocked to the temple in the ungodly hours of the night. Lanterns were lit and a faint hint of jasmine and incense sticks lightened the tense atmosphere.

Kandanar Kelan, the fiery god, was running frantically around the court... I held my breath. The flames were not singeing him, not even a little bit. The deity who had possessed him was Kandanar Kelan, a king of the yesteryears and a fearsome warrior god who had rendered him invulnerable and invincible.

He must have danced for minutes or hours—I still have no idea. Time seemed non-existent in the midst of such a captivating and soul-wrenching performance. The transformation from incorrigible wrath to raving ferocity, the dance was a sight to witness—a true explosion of music, dance and fervent devotion.

...'Arjun . . .' I called. It came out as a whisper, and even then I regretted saying it out loud. He looked at me, his tired, droopy eyes telling me that he had had enough for the night. I retreated.

...Arjun was a wonder. He made me laugh and he made me think. He told me how this divine profession had been handed down to him through his family line and that even though he didn't exactly choose it, it was an integral part of him—something he could never let go of. He told me how turning into Kandanar Kelan was a state of trance, a state of frenzy, and that nothing gave him more ecstasy than being taken over by an ancient spirit that people worshipped to this day.

Some days Arjun liked to dive head first into his notions and I secretly loved the way his eyebrows knit together when he was in deep thought.

...That day was different, though.

...'Hey,' he said softly, snapping me out of my thoughts again. His softness made me wonder if his exceptional avatar was all a big lie. How could a human being so gentle transform himself into a screeching god plunging into flames at the drop of dusk? It was all a big mystery to me—a mystery that was better knotted up and dropped into the bed of the ocean and never thought of again. After all, all questions don't have answers.

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Flare

– Mariam Rashid

'Are you the one writing the book on Sheesh Mahal?' he asked, his voice serene.

The young man became wary.

'So you have called me to tell me how haraam it is to write about whores?' he asked.

The old man smiled. 'No, I have called you to tell you a story. The story of a girl who was born in Sheesh Mahal.' A puzzled expression crossed Moid's face, since he'd never seen maulanas mention brothels, especially in masjids.

'Lover?' Moid asked.
'Love.'
'Who was she?'
'Will you mention her in your book? I will only tell you if you promise to write her story.'

Moid nodded. The girl had his curiosity piqued.

...'I first saw her when darkness was melting into dawn, probably at this very same hour. Under the deep-blue sky, below the crescent moon burning golden, she stood at the window, staring at the fading stars. I was going to the masjid, unaware of her fragrance. Something seemed to draw my gaze up and my eyes fell upon her. My heart skipped a beat. I stopped for a while and smiled when I spotted black ink on her face radiating the same shine as her hair. But suddenly a beautiful woman with blue eyes dragged her inside and closed the window. It was then that I realized this was Sheesh Mahal. I was smiling at a woman standing at a window of Sheesh Mahal. But it didn't matter to me . . . It never did.

'This hide-and-seek between us continued for three years. Every time I looked at her, she looked more beautiful than the previous time... We never talked to each other. But I knew why she would stand up there; she knew I was not merely walking by to offer tahajjud. We know what our hearts want but we also know that's impossible.'"

You Are All I Need is coming soon! You can pre-order .