Authors’ Background: Author Archika Srivastava is the Head of Corporate Communications and CSR at Hikal Limited, where she brings together strategy, storytelling, and purpose to shape narratives that inspire change. With a degree in Mass Communication and over sixteen years of experience across leading PR agencies and corporates, she has built her career in the vibrant worlds of Delhi, Gurugram and Mumbai.

Questionnaire:

The Literature Today: Your professional world revolves around shaping narratives for organisations. How did your experience in Corporate Communications influence the emotional architecture of Kayal’s story in your book?

Archika Srivastava: Corporate Communications taught me how narratives are built, not just through words but through silences, pauses, and what remains unsaid. Over the years, I learned how emotions are often curated, managed, or softened for public consumption. While writing Kayal, I consciously did the opposite. I allowed her emotions to remain raw, fractured, and uncomfortable. That professional understanding of perception helped me layer her story intentionally, so the emotional arc feels real rather than rehearsed, and the reader experiences the truth beneath the narrative, not just the narrative itself.

The Literature Today: You’ve spent over sixteen years in PR, a field that thrives on empathy and perception. How did these skills support you in writing such a raw and intimate exploration of grief?

Archika Srivastava: Grief is a reality, but to continue suffering is a choice. Empathy helped me sit with Kayal’s pain without trying to fix it too quickly. Perception helped me understand how grief shows up differently for different people, sometimes loud, sometimes invisible. Writing this book required me to observe grief without judgment, just as I have observed human emotions in my professional life. That distance allowed honesty.

The Literature Today: The book blends poetry, diary-style reflections, and traditional storytelling. What inspired you to choose this hybrid format for Kayal’s emotional journey?

Archika Srivastava: Emotions are layered, and so is storytelling. I did not want the narrative to flow in a straight line because healing does not. Poetry allowed expression where language often fails, diary entries brought intimacy, and storytelling anchored the journey. I wanted readers to feel every word, not just read it, because real transformation happens in the subconscious, not the intellect.

The Literature Today: Kayal’s transformation from a vibrant, chirpy woman to someone hardened by guilt and loss is striking. Which parts of her evolution were the most challenging for you to write?

Archika Srivastava: The most difficult part was writing the moment when she stands on the brink of ending her life. I had to go deep into her psyche to understand what despair feels like when hope disappears completely. It was not easy, but it was necessary. I could not dilute that darkness if I wanted her eventual rise to feel earned.

The Literature Today: Your own writing has always been a personal sanctuary. How much of that reflective stillness found its way into the tone and pacing of the book?

Archika Srivastava: For me, authenticity is everything. I write exactly as I am, unfiltered and honest. This journey, however, grounded me even more. It made me pause, reflect, and observe my own evolution. Interestingly, I can see a shift in myself now, in how I respond to life, how I sit with silence, and how I honour stillness.

The Literature Today: The mother-daughter bond between Kayal and Kaina forms the heart of the narrative. How did your own experiences as a parent shape the authenticity of their relationship?

Archika Srivastava: I wanted to explore two generational relationships, Madhu and Kayal, and Kayal and Kaina, to show how patterns travel through time. How, despite our best intentions, we often repeat what shaped us, or create new wounds while trying to be different. This is where generational trauma quietly lives.

Motherhood inevitably gave me perspective. It helped me understand how deeply love, fear, guilt, and hope coexist within a mother. That complexity is what I wanted readers to feel.

The Literature Today: The book seamlessly incorporates Sanskrit poetry and shlokas. What role did these cultural and spiritual elements play in elevating the emotional depth of the story?

Archika Srivastava: I see Sanatan Dharma not as a religion, but as universal laws of karma, dharma, intention, and consequence. These are timeless principles that govern how energy moves through the universe. Our intentions create impressions, and our actions vibrate outward.

Ancient texts like the Bhagavad Gita and the Vedas hold profound psychological and spiritual wisdom. Including shlokas was both a grounding device and a reference point, for depth, believability, and accessibility. For those who seek logic, the wisdom is there. For those who seek faith, it resonates naturally.

The Literature Today: Your storytelling carries an undercurrent of hope even in the darkest chapters. What core message did you want readers facing real-life grief to take away from Kayal’s journey?

Archika Srivastava: That there is always light at the end of the tunnel. You do not have to see it. You only need to keep walking.

The Literature Today: You’ve been recognised among Business World’s 40 Under 40 for communication leadership. Did that professional validation push you creatively while crafting your debut novel?

Archika Srivastava: It made me believe in myself. For most of my life, I underestimated my own voice. BW 40 Under 40 shifted something inside me. It gave me permission to stop shrinking. I was no longer shy about being seen, heard, or sharing my story with the world.

The Literature Today: Your life in Mumbai, surrounded by family, art, and travel, clearly nurtures your creativity. Which of these personal rituals supported you during the writing process?

Archika Srivastava: It was never one ritual in isolation; it was the harmony of all three. Family gave me emotional grounding and a sense of belonging. Art kept me open and receptive, reminding me to feel deeply and observe closely. Travel gave me perspective, humility, and lived experiences that no book or classroom can offer.

Music also played a quiet but powerful role. As a school vocalist, I spent hours working on ‘bhav’(emotion) in my voice while singing semi-classical songs. Once you understand sur and taal, emotion becomes the most important ingredient. That truth holds for every art form. Writing is no different. Once you learn the rules, like grammar and structure, emotion takes over. That emotional depth is what truly carries a story and allows it to connect.

The Literature Today: This book, Rising Before Dawn Breaks, invites readers to pause, introspect, and rediscover themselves. What personal rediscoveries did you make while bringing this story to life?

Archika Srivastava: I realised that we are shaped by our thoughts. They wire themselves deep into our subconscious and become our reality. If we can touch the core, we can rewrite ourselves. Transformation is always a choice.