Preeti Shenoy interview: ‘Love isn’t always socially acceptable, it exists in the grey’

The Homecoming draws on the psychology of desire, duty, and deception, asking: Do we ever really escape our past? Can a love long buried survive the weight of reality? And perhaps the most painful question of all — when the heart and conscience pull in opposite directions, which one wins? In this interview to The Federal, Shenoy, who has been on The Forbes’ longlist of the most influential celebrities in India, talks about the novel’s themes — love in the grey spaces, how it takes courage to make choices that have no guarantees, how betrayal isn’t always black and white and why she finds it fascinating to write about the space between duty and desire, between what’s expected and what’s truly felt, and more. Excerpts:

In both A Place Called Home and The Homecoming, Alka makes choices that come with heavy emotional costs. Do you think her decisions are a reflection of social pressures, personal ambition, or a mix of both?

Alka’s journey is shaped by both — social conditioning and personal ambition. She has grown up in a tiny windowless room, and watched her mother not being treated right by Mrs Shetty. She has vowed to have her own home, and never been in a position of owing anything to anybody. She is a woman navigating a world that has already decided who she should be, yet she dares to want more. Her choices come with consequences, and that’s what makes her story compelling. She isn’t perfect; she falters, she struggles, and she pays a price. But in that struggle lies her strength. I wanted to explore the idea that sometimes, even when we make the ‘right’ choice, it doesn’t necessarily lead to happiness. Life is a lot more complex than a set of standards we set to achieve. While making choices, we always have imperfect information, and we make out choices based on our circumstances at that point in time. The novels explore this theme.

Alka’s relationship with Krish and Subbu is fraught with moral and emotional complexities. What drew you to write about love that exists in the grey areas?

Love isn’t always neat, predictable, or socially acceptable. It exists in the grey. It can be inconvenient, painful, and, at times, even conflicting. Alka’s relationship with Krish and Subbu isn’t about choosing between right and wrong — it’s about navigating what feels right to her in the moment, even when it might not make sense to the world. I find that space — the one between duty and desire, between what’s expected and what’s truly felt — endlessly fascinating to write about.

At its core, The Homecoming is about love, betrayal, and the secrets we keep. What drew you to explore these themes in such an intimate and layered way? Did they challenge you emotionally as a writer?

Absolutely. Writing The Homecoming was emotionally intense because I was delving into vulnerabilities that many of us experience but rarely speak about — betrayal that isn’t always black and white, love that is messy, and secrets that aren’t just kept from others but also from ourselves. I wanted to explore how people rationalize their choices, how they live with their regrets, and whether love, in its truest form, can withstand the weight of deception. It made me reflect deeply on human relationships, the fragility of trust, and the blurred lines between ‘right’ and ‘wrong.’

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There’s a famous verse by Rumi: “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right doing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” Love, at its purest, exists in that space. The restrictions we place on who we can love and who we cannot are shaped by societal conditioning. But when we strip away those layers of expectation and judgment, we discover a love that is unburdened — one that is free, raw, and deeply honest.

The setting of the coffee estate and the heritage bungalow have an atmospheric presence. How did the setting help in building the emotional and psychological arcs of your characters?

The setting isn’t just a backdrop — it’s a character in itself. The sprawling coffee estate, the old bungalow, the waterfall, the path she climbs — they all mirror Alka’s inner turmoil. The remoteness of the estate heightens her isolation, and the cottages within the estate, with their whispers of the past, which she renovates, amplify her restlessness. In The Homecoming, the setting creates a mood, an emotional landscape that deepens the reader’s connection to the characters.

The novel explores the idea of a ‘perfect life’ unravelled by hidden truths. Do you believe we ever fully recover when our hopes shatter, or do we simply learn to live with the cracks?

We learn to live with the cracks. When our hearts break, they leave holes, but we fill those spaces with experiences that bring light and hope. With time, we keep adding more — more light, more hope — until the pain isn’t as overwhelming. But it never truly disappears. The cracks remain, not as weaknesses, but as reminders of what we’ve endured. They don’t just define us — they strengthen us.

The idea of ‘moving on’ is a myth. We don’t move on; we move forward, carrying our past with us in ways that shape who we become. The things that break us also teach us resilience. So, no, we don’t heal in the way we once imagined. We simply learn to make peace with the new version of ourselves.

Forbidden love can be a tricky subject. How did you approach writing about Alka’s feelings for Krish in a way that captured the emotional depth and conflict without veering into judgment or cliché?

By focusing on the raw emotions rather than the labels. Love, when it happens in complicated spaces, isn’t about rebellion — it’s about connection. Alka’s feelings for Krish are not driven by a desire to defy norms but by something deeper, something beyond logic. I approached their relationship with honesty, allowing the characters to experience guilt, longing, and self-doubt. There are no grand justifications, no neat resolutions — just human emotions in all their flawed, beautiful, and painful glory. In the book there are these lines which capture this sentiment powerfully: “They lay in silence, aware of each painful minute that ticked by, reminding them that they would soon have to return to the real world where they both had their roles to play—brother, father, wife, mother—and where they could no longer be just Alka and Krish, two people deeply in love with one another.”

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Many of your novels deal with the idea of choice — whether to fight for something or let it go. What does Alka’s journey, or even Subbu’s for that matter, in The Homecoming say about the courage it takes to make these life-altering decisions?

It takes immense courage to make choices that have no guarantees. Both Alka and Subbu must choose between comfort and truth, between the lives they’ve built and the ones they truly want. Sometimes, holding on requires strength; sometimes, letting go requires even more. I think their journeys reflect the reality that no choice is ever easy, but the real tragedy is in never making one at all.

The novel delves into family dynamics, particularly how past wounds and buried secrets affect relationships. Do you believe it’s ever possible to truly leave the past behind, or does it always linger in some way?

The past always lingers. Even when we think we’ve moved on, it shows up in unexpected ways — in the way we love, the way we fear, the way we react to hurt. Some wounds heal, but the scars remain, and they shape our future choices. I think what matters is whether we let our past define us or whether we use it to grow into someone stronger, wiser, and more self-aware.

Your stories often feel deeply personal and relatable. How much of your own observations or experiences find their way into your books? Also, how do you go about building the thematic architecture of your novels?

A lot of what I write comes from keen observation — of people, of relationships, of emotions. While my stories aren’t autobiographical, they are deeply personal in the sense that I write about what moves me, what intrigues me, and what I feel compelled to explore. The thematic architecture of my novels isn’t something I plan rigidly — it unfolds as I write. I usually start with a strong emotional core, and everything else — characters, setting, conflicts — grows from there.

In hindsight, how do you look at the process of working on these two novels? Did they allow you to explore subjects or themes in a manner your previous books didn’t, or do you see them in a continuum along your journey as a writer of modern love and relationships?

Each book I write is a continuation of my journey, but A Place Called Home and The Homecoming definitely allowed me to push boundaries in terms of storytelling, emotional depth, and character complexity. They demanded a deeper engagement with moral dilemmas, social expectations, and personal reckonings. More than anything, they reinforced my belief that no story is ever truly ‘finished’— it just evolves, much like the writer behind it.