Into the Cosmos of Storytelling: Shubhanshu Shukla on “The Second Orbit”

When I first met Shubhanshu Shukla, he was half‑smiling, half‑lost in thought, as if he were juggling two worlds at once – the one he’d just finished writing and the one he was about to launch. It was clear that “The Second Orbit,” his freshly released novel, isn’t just another title on the shelf; it feels more like a personal odyssey.

Shukla explains that the seed of the story sprouted during a night‑long train ride from Delhi to Varanasi. "I was watching the darkness outside the window, the way the moon slipped behind the hills, and suddenly I thought—what if our lives are also on an orbit we can’t see?" He laughs, recalling how that fleeting moment turned into a year‑long investigation into human longing, regret, and the strange pull of destiny.

Writing, he says, is a bit like navigating a second orbit. "You think you’ve plotted the course, then a gust of wind—an unexpected character, a sudden plot twist—throws you off balance. You either fight it or you let it carry you to a new horizon." That metaphor runs through the book’s structure, with each chapter looping back to a central motif: the idea that every decision creates a ripple, an echo that might return in a different guise.

What surprised many readers, Shukla admits, was his decision to weave scientific concepts into a deeply emotional narrative. "I didn’t want the physics to feel like a lecture. I wanted it to be a background hum, something that grounds the characters while letting the heart take flight," he notes. The result, according to early reviewers, is a novel that feels both intellectually satisfying and viscerally moving.

He also touches on the challenges of balancing his day job as a journalist with the solitary demands of fiction writing. "There are days when the newsroom’s noise drowns out the quiet you need to hear your own characters," he confides. Still, he finds solace in the ritual of early‑morning writing, when the world is still, and his thoughts can settle into a steady rhythm.

On a more personal note, Shukla shares a tender anecdote about his mother, whose love for old folk songs inspired a pivotal scene in the novel. "She would hum ‘Rimjhim Gire Saawan’ while stirring chai, and that melody became the thread that tied two estranged protagonists together," he says, eyes twinkling.

Looking ahead, the author hints at a possible sequel, but only if the universe aligns just right. "The story lives on its own, like a satellite that may one day re‑enter Earth’s atmosphere. Until then, I’m content watching it orbit," he concludes, leaving us with the same sense of wonder that first sparked the book’s creation.