Authors’ Background: Abhineet Garg has always been fascinated by the spaces between truth and illusion, those quiet corners of the human mind where identity wavers, motives blur, and a single moment can shift a person’s entire reality. Growing up in Delhi’s busy streets and later navigating corporate rhythms, he learned early that people often reveal themselves in fragments. The rest must be observed, decoded, or imagined. With fifteen years spent refining his craft, Abhineet writes with the intuition of a storyteller and the precision of an investigator. His fascination with psychological tension comes from a lifelong love of mind-bending cinema, unpredictable narratives, and the subtle art of reading what lies beneath a smile. His journey to authorship deepened when he wrote a personal novel as a gift for his wife, Upma, a gesture that quietly transformed into purpose. Her unwavering encouragement became the anchor behind every story he dared to tell. Today, Abhineet continues to explore the delicate dance between perception and reality, crafting narratives that pull readers into atmospheric worlds where every reflection, every silence, and every emotion feels just a little bit suspicious… yet irresistible.

Questionnaire :

The Literature Today: Your book, “The Real One” presents the rise of Pragati Kapoor’s character from Bhopal lanes to the television sets is both dazzling and perilous. So, what drew you to tell a story about fame’s dark mirror rather than fame’s glamour?

Abhineet Garg: Have you ever noticed how the spotlight looks warm from a distance, but the closer you walk, the more it begins to burn? I learned this during a small school event when I was young, when I froze on stage while everyone clapped for someone else. That day, I realized applause has two faces, one that lifts you, and one that swallows you whole. With The Real One, I wasn’t chasing fame’s glitter. Glitter blinds. Shadows reveal. Pragati Kapoor’s journey allowed me to explore that darker mirror, the place where ambition meets insecurity, where applause competes with silence, where you must choose between being celebrated and being yourself. Fame is seductive, yes. But it’s also a quiet thief. And I’ve always been more interested in the thief than the treasure.

The Literature Today: Your work is praised for its cinematic intensity. How do you translate that sense of screen-ready tension onto the page — the techniques, pacing, and the imagery you rely on?

Abhineet Garg: Everyone has an aspiration they quietly tuck under their pillow; mine was to become a screenwriter, the kind who writes scenes so intense even the popcorn feels nervous. As a teenager, I watched movies like a spy on a secret mission, pausing every few minutes to analyze dramatic silences, suspicious glances, and background music that clearly knew more than the characters did. So, when I write, I steal from cinema shamelessly. I frame scenes like shots, a slow pan when emotions simmer, a jump cut when secrets drop, and a full-blown close-up when someone’s life is about to implode. I even write dialogues imagining the background score… sometimes too dramatically. My technique is simple, making the reader feel like they’re binge-watching my book. Cinematic tension isn’t about chaos; it’s about that split second before chaos arrives. And I live for that moment.

The Literature Today: Mirror imagery and reflections are central to the novel’s paranoia. Why are mirrors such a powerful motif for identity and the self in this story?

Abhineet Garg: Mirrors are fascinating… they’re the only objects that never lie, yet somehow always make us uncomfortable. When I was younger, I used to stare into the mirror not to admire myself, but to study the tiny things it revealed, the hesitation in my smile, the exhaustion in my eyes, the thoughts I thought no one could see. That’s when I realized a mirror doesn’t show your face, it shows your truth. In The Real One, mirrors became the perfect accomplice to Pragati’s paranoia. Fame tells you who you should be; mirrors remind you who you actually are. And that clash is far scarier than any villain. A mirror is both a judge and a confidant, a loyal witness to our best moments and our breakdowns. It doesn’t just reflect the self. It exposes the self. Which is why, in this story, the mirror is the most dangerous character of all.

The Literature Today: Pragati’s doubt, “what if the reflection in the mirror is no longer her own?” is terrifyingly intimate. How did you get into the headspace of someone unraveling their sense of self?

Abhineet Garg: Imagining the viewpoint of someone losing their sense of self might sound dramatic, but it actually began with a very simple moment… the day I caught my own reflection doing nothing while my thoughts were doing cartwheels. That tiny disconnect made me wonder, what does the mind look like from the inside when it starts questioning its own identity? To write Pragati’s unraveling without making it bleak, I turned to psychology. I spent weeks studying how the brain protects, edits, and sometimes tricks us. The more I learned, the more I realized that self-doubt isn’t madness, it’s deeply human. So, I slipped into Pragati’s mind gently, the way you would enter a room full of fragile memories. I listened to her fears, her ambitions, her silent arguments with herself. Understanding her wasn’t about darkness. It was about empathy, the softest path into someone’s inner world.

The Literature Today: You spent 15 years refining your craft before publication. What lessons from that long apprenticeship found their way into this psychological thriller?

Abhineet Garg: I grew up watching stories that refused to sit still, mysteries that twisted without warning, thrillers that made even the sofa suspicious, and psychological dramas that made me pause and whisper, “Wait… what just happened?” Those early obsessions quietly shaped my fifteen-year apprenticeship. In that long journey, the greatest lesson I learned was patience, the kind that lets a story simmer until it reveals its true flavor. Another lesson was curiosity, never accept the obvious, always look for the heartbeat hiding behind the dialogue. And the final lesson was humility, understanding that every draft teaches you something you didn’t know about your characters… or yourself. All of that naturally seeped into The Real One. Every twist, every subtle clue, every psychological crack is the result of years spent loving stories that surprise you and wanting to create that same irresistible unpredictability for readers.

The Literature Today: The book moves between small-town roots and the entertainment machine. How did you research the television/celebrity world to make the industry feel authentic without leaning on clichés?

Abhineet Garg: Research sounds very serious, but in my case, it began with something wonderfully simple… conversations. I spoke to people who live inside the entertainment universe, including Rupali, who eventually became the face of Pragati in my mind and then on the cover. Their stories weren’t dramatic monologues; they were open confessions about auditions, rejections, strange fan encounters, and the quiet pressure of always being “camera-ready.” I realized the industry doesn’t need clichés; it creates enough real ones on its own. So, my job wasn’t to exaggerate, but to observe. I watched how fame reshapes routines, how schedules eat sleep, how a smile can be both genuine and strategic. And because I come from an orthodox family background myself, bridging those two worlds felt natural. Authenticity isn’t about exposing the industry… It’s about understanding the people who survive it. And honestly, celebrity life is far more poetic and far funnier, than any stereotype.

The Literature Today: Your bio credits your wife as a key encourager. How did her support shape the decision to publish this novel or influence the story itself?

Abhineet Garg: My wife, Upma, has a unique superpower, she can see potential in me even on days when I can’t find my own socks. On our first wedding anniversary, I gifted her a personal novel, a fictional story about us. I expected a sweet smile; instead, she looked at me like I had just confessed to hiding a secret talent for so long. That one gift flipped a switch in her. From that day, she became my constant encourager, reminding me that if I could write a book for her, I could certainly write one for the world. Her faith didn’t just push me toward publishing The Real One… it softened the story too. It reminded me that behind every ambition, every struggle, every unraveling… There is someone who believes in you quietly and fiercely. So yes, her support didn’t just influence the novel. It made the novel possible.

The Literature Today: Psychological thrillers live or die by their ambiguity and trust (or lack of it). How did you decide how much to reveal and what to keep unknowable for the reader?

Abhineet Garg: You improve with every step and in my case, with every book. I’ve published several novels before The Real One, and each one quietly taught me a little more about timing, tension, and the art of not spilling secrets too early. It’s like learning to make chai… the flavor comes from knowing exactly when not to stir. My personal trick for ambiguity is simple: I ask myself, “If I were the reader, what would I expect here?” And then I do the opposite, but gracefully. I reveal just enough to keep the story breathing and hide just enough to keep the reader leaning forward. A psychological thriller is a dance between clarity and confusion. Too much truth, and the mystery dies. Too little, and the reader runs away. Finding that balance came from years of writing… and realizing that the unknowable is often the most irresistible part.

The Literature Today: Your novel very cleverly asks that in a world of masks and facades, how do you recognize the real one? Well, do you see that question as political, personal, or both?

Abhineet Garg: It’s personal to everyone, not just me, because we’re all living in a world where trust now comes with a caution label. One small incident years ago made this clear to me… I once misread someone’s kindness as honesty, only to later realize it was just… performance. That day, I understood something simple but universal: in today’s society, nothing is ever exactly what it looks like. So when The Real One asks, “How do you recognize the real one?” it isn’t just a story question. It’s a social one. It’s political because masks are everywhere, in headlines, narratives, and public images. It’s personal because each of us is trying to decode what’s genuine in our own lives. For me, the answer is both. We’re all navigating a world full of curated identities, and the search for authenticity is the only mystery we never stop solving.

The Literature Today: Many readers call your narratives ‘mind-bending!’ Which authors, films, or TV shows most influenced the tone and structure of “The Real One?”

Abhineet Garg: I love movies that make you question your own brain… the kind where the credits roll, and you stare at the screen as it owes you answers. My obsession began with Inception, continued with Predestination, and then Kartik Calling Kartik reminded me that psychological twists can hide in everyday apartments. Later, Indian gems like Talaash, Kahaani, and A Wednesday showed me how our own industry can bend reality without needing CGI. Even shows like Sacred Games and Made in Heaven proved how layered storytelling can create characters who feel real yet unpredictable. All these influences shaped The Real One. They taught me that mind-bending stories don’t rely on noise; they rely on nuance, subtle shifts, and the art of making the audience wonder if they missed something. So yes, my tone comes from years of loving stories that make you whisper, “Wait… did that just happen, or am I imagining it?”

The Literature Today: Finally, now that “The Real One” is out, where does your imagination want to go next — more psychological territory, a different genre, or an expansion of this book’s universe?

Abhineet Garg: My imagination is a wanderer with terrible discipline; it never walks in straight lines, and it certainly never asks for permission. Now that The Real One is out in the world, it has already packed its bags and slipped into the night, chasing a new whisper. I’m just trying to keep up. Will it return to psychological mazes? It might… it enjoys rearranging human thoughts like puzzle pieces. Will it flirt with new genres? Very likely, curiosity is its favorite sin. And will this universe expand? Let’s just say some characters don’t like staying trapped between two covers. They knock… softly at first, then insistently. I don’t always know what’s coming next. But I do know this… my imagination follows the story that chooses me, not the other way around. And something tells me… another story has already made the first move.