About the Author: Mahesh Rajmane is a writer, filmmaker, and storyteller with a deep passion for horror and science fiction. His works blend mythology, psychology, and cosmic horror, exploring the fragile boundary between reality and the unknown. Beyond writing, he has directed two Marathi horror films and is currently developing a horror web series. With a background in software development and a career in programming and product design, he infuses his narratives with analytical depth, crafting intricate, immersive worlds that linger long after the final page. His latest novel, Khandav, is a chilling descent into an ancient jungle where science and myth collide, unraveling a terrifying revelation. When not writing or directing, Mahesh explores philosophy, the mysteries of the universe, and the evolving landscape of horror storytelling across different mediums.

Follow his journey and explore exclusive horror content on his YouTube channel, @horroflux666.

Questionnaire:

The Literature Today: You move fluidly between horror, sci-fi, mythology, and psychology. What made “Khandav” the space where all these worlds collided most fiercely for you?

Mahesh Rajmane: These ideas were already colliding inside me. The jungle felt like the only honest space where that collision could happen. It is the cradle of life, but also a place where civilization peels away very quickly. Horror is our fear of the unknown. Science fiction is our attempt to make the unknown knowable. Mythology does something more uncomfortable, it trains our psychology to live with the unknown without control. These narratives have always coexisted in human history. Khandav gave me a setting where they could stop pretending to be separate and start confronting each other directly. Once that happens, the human mind becomes the real battleground, and that is where the story truly lives.

The Literature Today: The jungle in “Khandav” feels alive — breathing, watching, thinking. At what point did the setting stop being a backdrop and become a character in its own right? 

Mahesh Rajmane: From the very first chapter, the jungle is a character. It is not something the story grows into later.  The moment Maruti enters it, change begins, and that pattern repeats with every character who follows. Memories distort, the sense of self erodes, and the boundary between reality and illusion collapses. The jungle functions as a collective living entity. It does not attack people physically; it transforms them psychologically. Anyone who tries to enter it is reshaped, not by force, but by exposure. In Khandav, the jungle does not hide monsters. It turns humans into them.

The Literature Today: Your background in software development and product design brings a sense of structure even to chaos. How did your analytical mindset shape the novel’s descent into madness?

Mahesh Rajmane: Different genres demand different ways of writing. A murder mystery can often be reverse engineered. Many authors begin with a complete plot and then layer detail onto it. I don’t believe horror works that way. Horror is exploration. It begins with a small disturbance and discovers its destination while moving forward. The writing itself steers the story toward its ending. That approach demands both imagination and discipline. You have to resist superstition and remain true to science, while still allowing space for mystery, mythology, and the irrational. Holding those opposites together requires critical thinking. My background in software design and development trained me to balance structure with uncertainty, to let complex systems evolve without losing coherence. That mindset shaped how Khandav descends into madness—methodically, not randomly.

The Literature Today: The forgotten goddess at the heart of the story is both divine and terrifying. What drew you to explore divinity as an ancient intelligence rather than a benevolent force?

Mahesh Rajmane: Gods are often remembered today as merciful and loving, but what we forget as a civilization is that gods were born out of fear. Early divinity was never comforting. There were gods of fire, rain, famine, and plague, forces that could not be reasoned with, only feared. We did not worship them because they were kind; we prayed because they were dangerous. Mercy was something we begged for, not something they promised. Over time, we softened them. We gave them purpose, morality, and intention. We began to believe they listened, judged, and intervened on our behalf. That transformation made divinity easier to live with, but less honest.

In Khandav, I return the goddess to her original role. She is not benevolent or cruel. She is a gatekeeper. She holds the forces of the jungle at bay and guards what lies beneath it. Her power does not come from compassion, but from balance and restraint. Seeing divinity as an indifferent force is unsettling, but that unease is closer to how gods were first imagined and why they were feared in the first place.

The Literature Today: Maya begins her journey as a rational journalist, yet reality fractures as she goes deeper. Was her psychological unraveling planned from the outset, or did it evolve organically as the story unfolded?

Mahesh Rajmane:  Like much of Khandav, Maya’s journey was not pre planned. The story grew from a simple core idea, and her transformation emerged as I kept pushing the narrative forward. I find that approach more honest and more engaging as a writer. When you allow the story to evolve instead of forcing it toward a fixed psychological outcome, characters begin to behave in ways you did not consciously design but instinctively recognize as true.

The Literature Today: Hallucination, memory distortion, and bodily transformation play a central role in the horror. Why was psychological terror more important to you than conventional jump scares?

Mahesh Rajmane: Jump scares are momentary. They shock the body, but they leave the mind intact. I wanted the horror in Khandav to stay with the reader long after the book is closed. Psychological terror lingers because it alters perception rather than delivering a single jolt of fear. Many readers have told me that they now see jungles differently. That lingering unease was my goal. When horror reshapes how you see the world, even in small ways, it becomes more powerful than any sudden scare.

The Literature Today: As someone who has directed Marathi horror films, how did writing “Khandav” differ from the visual storytelling in cinema? What freedoms or challenges did the novel form offer?

Mahesh Rajmane: I find the novel to be a more powerful medium for a creative and intellectually engaged mind. Cinema is largely a mass experience. It imposes a fixed visual interpretation and compresses ideas into a limited runtime. A book allows far greater freedom. The writer can layer ideas, leave space for imagination, and let readers arrive at their own interpretations. They can pause, return, and rethink the story. Writing Khandav was liberating. It was largely free from censorship and time constraints, and it allowed me to explore psychological and philosophical depth that would be very difficult to sustain in a two hour film.

The Literature Today: The line between science and myth blurs constantly in the book. Do you see these forces as opposites, or as parallel ways of explaining the unknown?

Mahesh Rajmane: I don’t see science and myth as opposites. They coexist because they serve different survival needs. Science tries to explain the unknown, while myth helps humans live with it. Science may tell us there is no heaven, but the idea of heaven allows many people to cope with death. Different beings and different minds survive differently. A dog needs neither science nor myth, an atheist may see death as an end, while a believer sees a continuation. Khandav doesn’t choose between these frameworks. It explores how humans rely on both to endure a reality that is far larger and more indifferent than we are.

The Literature Today: Your work often explores the fragile boundary between reality and the unknown. Why do you think horror is such a powerful lens for examining human consciousness?

Mahesh Rajmane:  Horror and science fiction engage with the unknown at a level beyond everyday human concerns. Horror in particular, through the supernatural, confronts questions of life, death, illusion, and the larger structure of existence. These genres don’t just entertain; they force readers to examine consciousness and the limits of reality itself. Most other genres, say love stories or action thrillers, remain confined to immediate human concerns and social dynamics. Horror expands the frame and asks more uncomfortable questions. Horror doesn’t escape reality, it challenges our understanding of it.

The Literature Today: With experience across writing, filmmaking, and now long-form horror fiction, how do you decide which story belongs to which medium?

Mahesh Rajmane:  It depends on the nature of the story. If it relies on action or strong visual spectacle, cinema is the natural choice. But if a story demands a slower pace, space for explanation, reflection, and psychological depth, then a novel works better. Writing Khandav convinced me that long-form fiction is ideal for ideas that need time to breathe and for horror that unfolds gradually inside the reader’s mind.

The Literature Today: For readers who finish “Khandav” unsettled and questioning reality, what feeling or fear do you hope lingers with them long after the last page?

Mahesh Rajmane: I hope what lingers is doubt. Not fear of monsters, but uncertainty about how stable reality really is. A sense that the world is layered, that beneath what we see and name, something older and less human may be watching. If Khandav works, readers don’t just close the book, they carry a quiet unease with them. A hesitation when they enter a forest, a moment of doubt about memory, belief, or control.