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Tapas: A Divine Quest
In a world where religion has become more about the rituals than about actions, three groups carry the legacy of karma that the Gods embody.
Known as Divyakul, the three groups worship their chosen Gods through their actions.
Manas: The thoughts of Brahma and Saraswati.
Vachi: The words of Vishnu and Lakshmi.
Kailashansh: The pieces of Shiva and Shakti.
Since the advent of Kalyuga, the three Divyakul have maintained a delicate balance of Devotion, Ambition, and Guidance. However, as the world changes rapidly and new outlooks are formed, one group embarks on a quest to finally find what they have been seeking for a long time.
Amidst the presence of immortal beings and divine appointees, it's a snarky and tired Mahil whom we follow as he tries to survive in a familiar but completely new world.
Known as Divyakul, the three groups worship their chosen Gods through their actions.
Manas: The thoughts of Brahma and Saraswati.
Vachi: The words of Vishnu and Lakshmi.
Kailashansh: The pieces of Shiva and Shakti.
Since the advent of Kalyuga, the three Divyakul have maintained a delicate balance of Devotion, Ambition, and Guidance. However, as the world changes rapidly and new outlooks are formed, one group embarks on a quest to finally find what they have been seeking for a long time.
Amidst the presence of immortal beings and divine appointees, it's a snarky and tired Mahil whom we follow as he tries to survive in a familiar but completely new world.
304 pages, Kindle Edition
Published July 25, 2025
2 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 21 of 21 reviews
December 10, 2025
Tapas is what happens when someone actually understands that young readers want substance, not just escapism. Don't get me wrong, the adventure elements are solid, but Shreya uses them to explore what devotion looks like when you strip away performance. The Divyakul representing thought, speech, and action felt like a call out honestly. How often do those three things actually align in my own life? Mahil's skepticism throughout the story validates everyone who feels disconnected from traditional structures while still searching for meaning. The supporting cast adds depth without overcrowding.
My favorite part was how the book never punishes Mahil for his doubt, instead showing that questioning is part of genuine understanding. Finished this feeling both seen and challenged, which is rare. The exploration of authenticity versus performance hit hard in our social media age where curating your image often matters more than living truthfully. Shreya captures that tension perfectly through the contrast between ritual worship and embodied devotion, making ancient philosophy feel urgently relevant to contemporary life.
My favorite part was how the book never punishes Mahil for his doubt, instead showing that questioning is part of genuine understanding. Finished this feeling both seen and challenged, which is rare. The exploration of authenticity versus performance hit hard in our social media age where curating your image often matters more than living truthfully. Shreya captures that tension perfectly through the contrast between ritual worship and embodied devotion, making ancient philosophy feel urgently relevant to contemporary life.
October 30, 2025
What’s remarkable about Tapas is that its ambition actually lands.
Set during Kalyuga, it reimagines devotion as something embodied: three Divyakul lineages channel divine energy through mind, word, and deed. That alone could carry a book. But then comes Mahil, a weary skeptic thrust into the cosmic mess. His exhaustion becomes our lens, grounding the mythic in the mundane.
Shreya’s prose maintains a brisk rhythm, no digressions, no filler. Humor coexists with heartbreak, and exposition never clogs the flow. The world feels vast yet approachable, brimming with purpose.
It’s rare for a novel to leave you both entertained and introspective. Tapas does exactly that, it moves fast, hits hard, and lingers long after.
Set during Kalyuga, it reimagines devotion as something embodied: three Divyakul lineages channel divine energy through mind, word, and deed. That alone could carry a book. But then comes Mahil, a weary skeptic thrust into the cosmic mess. His exhaustion becomes our lens, grounding the mythic in the mundane.
Shreya’s prose maintains a brisk rhythm, no digressions, no filler. Humor coexists with heartbreak, and exposition never clogs the flow. The world feels vast yet approachable, brimming with purpose.
It’s rare for a novel to leave you both entertained and introspective. Tapas does exactly that, it moves fast, hits hard, and lingers long after.
September 15, 2025
Reading Tapas: A Divine Quest felt like standing before a river of myth and letting its current draw me in, at once gentle and tumultuous. Shreya has crafted not a retelling, but a reawakening of mythology, where the sacred is no longer distant but alive in the pulse of human choices. Her words summon a vision where devotion, ambition, and guidance entwine in fragile harmony, embodied by the Divyakul—thoughts, words, and actions carried forward from divine origins.
What touched me deeply was the figure of Mahil. He is not the chosen savior adorned with perfection, but a weary traveler, cynical yet oddly endearing, whose wit shields a tender search for meaning. In his reluctance, I saw a reflection of the restlessness I sometimes feel, that quiet question of how to live with faith when the world seems clouded by ritual and noise. His humanity anchors the story, reminding me that even amidst gods and immortals, it is the flawed heart that makes a tale unforgettable.
The prose glides effortlessly between gravity and lightness. One moment, I found myself immersed in cosmic reflections that stirred a quiet awe within me, and the next I was smiling at lines sharp with humor. This rhythm kept the story luminous, neither too heavy to weary me nor too light to lose its depth.
Tapas is, to me, a hymn disguised as an adventure, a meditation disguised as a tale. It left me thoughtful, moved, and quietly inspired.
What touched me deeply was the figure of Mahil. He is not the chosen savior adorned with perfection, but a weary traveler, cynical yet oddly endearing, whose wit shields a tender search for meaning. In his reluctance, I saw a reflection of the restlessness I sometimes feel, that quiet question of how to live with faith when the world seems clouded by ritual and noise. His humanity anchors the story, reminding me that even amidst gods and immortals, it is the flawed heart that makes a tale unforgettable.
The prose glides effortlessly between gravity and lightness. One moment, I found myself immersed in cosmic reflections that stirred a quiet awe within me, and the next I was smiling at lines sharp with humor. This rhythm kept the story luminous, neither too heavy to weary me nor too light to lose its depth.
Tapas is, to me, a hymn disguised as an adventure, a meditation disguised as a tale. It left me thoughtful, moved, and quietly inspired.
August 27, 2025
Mythology but make it modern, sharp, and full of sass, that’s Tapas by Shreya. Forget boring retellings, this one throws you right into a world where karma isn’t just a concept, it’s a way of living. And trust me, it’s way more addictive than it sounds.
We’ve got three power groups here, Manas, Vachi, and Kailashansh, basically the ultimate squads carrying the legacies of the Gods. Thoughts, words, and actions. Sounds deep? It is. But it’s also messy, intense, and full of drama (aka my favorite combo).
And then there’s Mahil. Not your chosen-one, perfect-hero type. Nope. He’s sarcastic, tired, and just trying to survive while immortals and divine appointees stir up chaos. He keeps it real, and honestly, he makes the whole ride ten times more fun.
What I loved most? The balance. One page you’re knee-deep in philosophy and cosmic stakes, the next you’re laughing at snarky banter. Shreya knows exactly how to keep the story epic without making it feel like homework.
Tapas is fresh, witty, and thought-provoking. If you love mythology with a modern punch (and a side of sarcasm), you’re gonna eat this up.
We’ve got three power groups here, Manas, Vachi, and Kailashansh, basically the ultimate squads carrying the legacies of the Gods. Thoughts, words, and actions. Sounds deep? It is. But it’s also messy, intense, and full of drama (aka my favorite combo).
And then there’s Mahil. Not your chosen-one, perfect-hero type. Nope. He’s sarcastic, tired, and just trying to survive while immortals and divine appointees stir up chaos. He keeps it real, and honestly, he makes the whole ride ten times more fun.
What I loved most? The balance. One page you’re knee-deep in philosophy and cosmic stakes, the next you’re laughing at snarky banter. Shreya knows exactly how to keep the story epic without making it feel like homework.
Tapas is fresh, witty, and thought-provoking. If you love mythology with a modern punch (and a side of sarcasm), you’re gonna eat this up.
December 7, 2025
Shreya’s Tapas: A Divine Quest opens the Divyakul series with a refreshingly modern take on Indian mytho-fantasy. While the novel draws on familiar cosmological concepts—Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva, and their divine consorts—it quickly establishes a world where action, not ritual, determines devotion.
This core idea becomes the thematic engine of the story, giving the narrative a contemporary moral undertone without feeling preachy.
The novel introduces three ancient orders—Manas, Vachi, and Kailashansh—collectively known as the Divyakul. Each lineage worships through a specific mode of being.
The narrative cleverly grounds its divine backdrop through Mahil, a weary, sarcastic, and deeply relatable protagonist. His voice brings a candid, sometimes sardonic tone that offsets the novel’s mystical scale.
This contrast is one of the book’s strengths. Instead of the usual chosen-one solemnity, we get a character who reacts to divine absurdity the way many of us probably would: with irritation, bewilderment, and occasional resignation.
The prose is clean, contemporary, and approachable. The candid dialogue, especially Mahil’s internal monologue, helps maintain a brisk pace even when the story delves into lore.
At times, the novel shifts quickly between world-building and plot progression, which may feel slightly uneven to some readers—but overall, the pacing supports the quest-driven structure.
Tapas: A Divine Quest succeeds as both an entertaining fantasy and a thoughtful exploration of duty, identity, and divine legacy.
It blends myth, humor, and philosophy in a way that feels distinct from the current wave of Indian mytho-fantasy. As the first book in the Divyakul series, it lays strong foundations—world, concept, and character—for what promises to be an ambitious saga.
A compelling and imaginative start to a new mythic series, buoyed by engaging world-building and a protagonist whose wry humor keeps the story grounded. Readers who enjoy mythological reinterpretations with a voice will find plenty to appreciate.
Must read♥️♥️
This core idea becomes the thematic engine of the story, giving the narrative a contemporary moral undertone without feeling preachy.
The novel introduces three ancient orders—Manas, Vachi, and Kailashansh—collectively known as the Divyakul. Each lineage worships through a specific mode of being.
The narrative cleverly grounds its divine backdrop through Mahil, a weary, sarcastic, and deeply relatable protagonist. His voice brings a candid, sometimes sardonic tone that offsets the novel’s mystical scale.
This contrast is one of the book’s strengths. Instead of the usual chosen-one solemnity, we get a character who reacts to divine absurdity the way many of us probably would: with irritation, bewilderment, and occasional resignation.
The prose is clean, contemporary, and approachable. The candid dialogue, especially Mahil’s internal monologue, helps maintain a brisk pace even when the story delves into lore.
At times, the novel shifts quickly between world-building and plot progression, which may feel slightly uneven to some readers—but overall, the pacing supports the quest-driven structure.
Tapas: A Divine Quest succeeds as both an entertaining fantasy and a thoughtful exploration of duty, identity, and divine legacy.
It blends myth, humor, and philosophy in a way that feels distinct from the current wave of Indian mytho-fantasy. As the first book in the Divyakul series, it lays strong foundations—world, concept, and character—for what promises to be an ambitious saga.
A compelling and imaginative start to a new mythic series, buoyed by engaging world-building and a protagonist whose wry humor keeps the story grounded. Readers who enjoy mythological reinterpretations with a voice will find plenty to appreciate.
Must read♥️♥️
January 1, 2026
“Tapas: A Divine Quest” by author Shreya is a gripping mythology-inspired fantasy fiction that beautifully blends action and humor. It is the first part of the Divyakul series.
The story is built around the idea that the balance of the universe is maintained by three groups of Divyakul inspired by Hindu mythology - Manas, Vachi, and Kailashansh. Manas represents the thoughts of Brahma and Saraswati, Vachi represents the voice of Vishnu and Lakshmi, and Kailashansh represents fragments of Shiva and Shakti.
Mahil and Vallabh are Vishnubhaktas and the sons of Urmila. The story begins with Mahil and Vallabh visiting IIT Delhi to meet Lord Parshuram, where they learn that the balance of the Divyakul has been disrupted in the Kaliyuga. Mahil is a highly relatable character - sarcastic, exhausted, and caught up in a grand adventure involving gods and immortal beings, yet he views everything with a grounded, down-to-earth approach.
The story emphasizes that karma and actions matter more than blindly following traditions, and that having faith is never a weakness. I appreciate how author Shreya has skillfully blended humor with philosophy through Mahil’s character. Vallabh’s determination and calm nature remain consistent throughout the story, and the bond between Mahil and Vallabh feels strong and powerful.
At the end of the book, readers will find meanings of Hindi terms and phrases, a character list, and more, which is both informative and helpful.
This book is a great choice for readers who enjoy mythology-based fantasy fiction that makes them question beliefs while offering a modern touch.
The story is built around the idea that the balance of the universe is maintained by three groups of Divyakul inspired by Hindu mythology - Manas, Vachi, and Kailashansh. Manas represents the thoughts of Brahma and Saraswati, Vachi represents the voice of Vishnu and Lakshmi, and Kailashansh represents fragments of Shiva and Shakti.
Mahil and Vallabh are Vishnubhaktas and the sons of Urmila. The story begins with Mahil and Vallabh visiting IIT Delhi to meet Lord Parshuram, where they learn that the balance of the Divyakul has been disrupted in the Kaliyuga. Mahil is a highly relatable character - sarcastic, exhausted, and caught up in a grand adventure involving gods and immortal beings, yet he views everything with a grounded, down-to-earth approach.
The story emphasizes that karma and actions matter more than blindly following traditions, and that having faith is never a weakness. I appreciate how author Shreya has skillfully blended humor with philosophy through Mahil’s character. Vallabh’s determination and calm nature remain consistent throughout the story, and the bond between Mahil and Vallabh feels strong and powerful.
At the end of the book, readers will find meanings of Hindi terms and phrases, a character list, and more, which is both informative and helpful.
This book is a great choice for readers who enjoy mythology-based fantasy fiction that makes them question beliefs while offering a modern touch.
October 17, 2025
Tapas grabbed me immediately with its bold premise: what if devotion wasn't about rituals but about how we live? Shreya reimagines Hindu mythology through a lens that feels contemporary and necessary, exploring how ancient wisdom survives in a rapidly changing world. The three Divyakul groups ~ Manas, Vachi, and Kailashansh, each represent different aspects of divine legacy, creating a fascinating tension between thought, speech, and action.
Mahil's voice is what makes this story sing. He's weary, quick-witted, and refreshingly imperfect, stumbling through a quest he never asked for while surrounded by beings who've existed for centuries. His perspective kept the narrative grounded even when the stakes reached cosmic proportions. I appreciated how Shreya avoided making him a typical chosen one, instead letting him be messily human.
The prose moves seamlessly between philosophical depth and entertaining banter, never feeling preachy or pretentious. Each chapter revealed new layers of this intricate world while maintaining momentum. By the end, I felt both entertained and enriched, like I'd experienced an adventure that also taught me something valuable about purpose and authenticity.
Mahil's voice is what makes this story sing. He's weary, quick-witted, and refreshingly imperfect, stumbling through a quest he never asked for while surrounded by beings who've existed for centuries. His perspective kept the narrative grounded even when the stakes reached cosmic proportions. I appreciated how Shreya avoided making him a typical chosen one, instead letting him be messily human.
The prose moves seamlessly between philosophical depth and entertaining banter, never feeling preachy or pretentious. Each chapter revealed new layers of this intricate world while maintaining momentum. By the end, I felt both entertained and enriched, like I'd experienced an adventure that also taught me something valuable about purpose and authenticity.
October 29, 2025
Honestly, Tapas surprised me in the best way. I picked it up thinking it would be another mythology retelling, but Shreya does something completely different here. She takes the essence of Hindu philosophy and asks: what happens when tradition collides with modernity? The answer unfolds through the Divyakul, three communities who embody their gods through living karma rather than performing rituals. That distinction hit hard.
Mahil is such a mood. He's snarky, overwhelmed, and navigating situations that would break anyone, yet somehow he keeps going. His internal commentary had me cracking up while simultaneously making me think about my own struggles with purpose and belonging. The supporting characters felt equally vivid, each adding complexity to this already layered narrative.
What impressed me most was how effortlessly Shreya balanced entertainment with substance. The plot moves quickly, pulling you through twists and revelations, but it never sacrifices emotional resonance for speed. Philosophical questions emerge naturally from the story rather than feeling forced. The world feels vast yet intimate, mythical yet accessible. Tapas isn't just a good read; it's an experience that lingers.
Mahil is such a mood. He's snarky, overwhelmed, and navigating situations that would break anyone, yet somehow he keeps going. His internal commentary had me cracking up while simultaneously making me think about my own struggles with purpose and belonging. The supporting characters felt equally vivid, each adding complexity to this already layered narrative.
What impressed me most was how effortlessly Shreya balanced entertainment with substance. The plot moves quickly, pulling you through twists and revelations, but it never sacrifices emotional resonance for speed. Philosophical questions emerge naturally from the story rather than feeling forced. The world feels vast yet intimate, mythical yet accessible. Tapas isn't just a good read; it's an experience that lingers.
November 1, 2025
This book snuck up on me. At first, I wasn't sure what to expect from a story about divine legacies and karma in the modern age, but Tapas delivered something genuinely special. Shreya constructs a universe where mythology breathes alongside contemporary struggles, where gods exist but humans still have to figure out their own paths. The Divyakul framework, dividing devotion into thoughts, words, and actions, creates such an interesting foundation for exploring what belief actually looks like when lived rather than performed.
Mahil is tired of everything, and I love that about him. He's not excited about his journey, not thrilled to be involved in cosmic affairs, and definitely not interested in being anyone's hero. Yet his reluctant participation becomes the heart of the story, showing how meaning emerges even when we resist it. His humor serves as both defense mechanism and coping strategy, making him feel like someone I'd actually want to befriend.
The writing flows beautifully, carrying philosophical weight without ever becoming tedious. Shreya knows when to pause for reflection and when to propel the action forward. Tapas left me contemplating questions I didn't know I had.
Mahil is tired of everything, and I love that about him. He's not excited about his journey, not thrilled to be involved in cosmic affairs, and definitely not interested in being anyone's hero. Yet his reluctant participation becomes the heart of the story, showing how meaning emerges even when we resist it. His humor serves as both defense mechanism and coping strategy, making him feel like someone I'd actually want to befriend.
The writing flows beautifully, carrying philosophical weight without ever becoming tedious. Shreya knows when to pause for reflection and when to propel the action forward. Tapas left me contemplating questions I didn't know I had.
November 1, 2025
There's something magical about finding a book that challenges and delights you simultaneously. Tapas does exactly that, taking mythology seriously while refusing to be stuffy about it. Shreya creates a world where divine appointees and immortal beings coexist with ordinary people trying to understand their place in the grand scheme. The premise alone with three groups carrying forward godly legacies through action rather than worship, opened up so many possibilities, and the execution exceeded my hopes.
Mahil's perspective makes everything work. He approaches this extraordinary situation with skepticism and fatigue, which paradoxically makes the miraculous elements feel more believable. His journey isn't about discovering hidden powers or fulfilling prophecies; it's about learning to engage with life authentically despite confusion and doubt. That vulnerability made me invest deeply in his story.
The balance Shreya strikes between levity and gravity impressed me throughout. Moments of genuine insight arrive naturally through dialogue and events rather than through exposition. The pacing keeps you engaged while allowing space for contemplation. Tapas reminds us that mythology isn't dead history but it's living questions about how we choose to exist.
Mahil's perspective makes everything work. He approaches this extraordinary situation with skepticism and fatigue, which paradoxically makes the miraculous elements feel more believable. His journey isn't about discovering hidden powers or fulfilling prophecies; it's about learning to engage with life authentically despite confusion and doubt. That vulnerability made me invest deeply in his story.
The balance Shreya strikes between levity and gravity impressed me throughout. Moments of genuine insight arrive naturally through dialogue and events rather than through exposition. The pacing keeps you engaged while allowing space for contemplation. Tapas reminds us that mythology isn't dead history but it's living questions about how we choose to exist.
November 1, 2025
I didn't expect a book about gods and karma to grip me the way Tapas did, but Shreya managed to turn ancient philosophy into something that feels urgent and real. The concept of Divyakul fascinated me from the start with three groups living out their devotion through thoughts, words, and actions rather than empty prayers. It made me rethink what faith actually means.
Mahil is probably my favorite protagonist in ages. He's exhausted, sarcastic, and completely unprepared for the chaos around him, which makes him incredibly relatable. Watching him navigate a world filled with immortals while just trying to keep his sanity intact was both hilarious and touching. His journey isn't about becoming some legendary hero; it's about figuring out how to exist authentically when everything feels overwhelming.
The way Shreya blends humor with profound moments is masterful. One scene had me laughing out loud, the next left me staring at the page, absorbing something that felt almost spiritual. The pacing never dragged, and the world-building was rich without drowning me in unnecessary details. This book reminded me why stories matter. They help us to see ourselves differently.
Mahil is probably my favorite protagonist in ages. He's exhausted, sarcastic, and completely unprepared for the chaos around him, which makes him incredibly relatable. Watching him navigate a world filled with immortals while just trying to keep his sanity intact was both hilarious and touching. His journey isn't about becoming some legendary hero; it's about figuring out how to exist authentically when everything feels overwhelming.
The way Shreya blends humor with profound moments is masterful. One scene had me laughing out loud, the next left me staring at the page, absorbing something that felt almost spiritual. The pacing never dragged, and the world-building was rich without drowning me in unnecessary details. This book reminded me why stories matter. They help us to see ourselves differently.
December 10, 2025
Look, I'm not usually into books with heavy philosophical themes because they tend to lecture at you, but Tapas is different. Shreya trusts you to get it without spelling everything out. The story follows Mahil, who basically embodies every reluctant protagonist mood, except he stays reluctant instead of suddenly becoming enthusiastic halfway through. That felt refreshingly honest.
The world with its three divine groups felt complex without being confusing, and the way mythology blends with modern sensibilities worked better than I expected. What surprised me most was how funny it was. Not forced humor, but organic moments that made the heavier themes easier to digest. If you want something that makes you think without making you feel like you're doing homework, this is it.
The book respects your intelligence enough to let you draw your own conclusions about the themes. I appreciated not being told exactly what to feel or think at every turn. That trust between author and reader made the experience feel collaborative rather than instructional, which kept me engaged throughout.
The world with its three divine groups felt complex without being confusing, and the way mythology blends with modern sensibilities worked better than I expected. What surprised me most was how funny it was. Not forced humor, but organic moments that made the heavier themes easier to digest. If you want something that makes you think without making you feel like you're doing homework, this is it.
The book respects your intelligence enough to let you draw your own conclusions about the themes. I appreciated not being told exactly what to feel or think at every turn. That trust between author and reader made the experience feel collaborative rather than instructional, which kept me engaged throughout.
December 11, 2025
I picked up Tapas during finals week, which was either perfect or terrible timing depending on how you look at it. This book made me think way too much when I should've been studying, but honestly, I needed those thoughts more than another practice exam. Mahil represents every college student who's overwhelmed by expectations they never signed up for. His journey through this world of immortals and divine politics mirrors what it feels like to navigate adulthood when everything seems too big and you feel too small.
Shreya writes with this effortless blend of wit and wisdom that kept me reading until 3am. The Divyakul concept challenged how I think about integrity and whether my actions align with my values. Short version: read it, then prepare to question everything. The timing turned out perfect because the book gave me perspective on my own stress. Sometimes stepping into someone else's overwhelming situation helps you process your own. The mythology became a framework for understanding my actual problems, which sounds weird but genuinely helped me through that difficult semester.
Shreya writes with this effortless blend of wit and wisdom that kept me reading until 3am. The Divyakul concept challenged how I think about integrity and whether my actions align with my values. Short version: read it, then prepare to question everything. The timing turned out perfect because the book gave me perspective on my own stress. Sometimes stepping into someone else's overwhelming situation helps you process your own. The mythology became a framework for understanding my actual problems, which sounds weird but genuinely helped me through that difficult semester.
December 16, 2025
Sometimes a book arrives exactly when you need it. Tapas found me during a quarter life crisis, which sounds dramatic but accurately describes my mental state. Reading about Mahil reluctantly navigating cosmic chaos while just trying to understand himself felt painfully relatable. The Divyakul framework, dividing divine expression into mental, verbal, and physical forms, created this interesting lens for examining personal integrity. Am I living what I think and say? Usually not, and Mahil isn't either, which makes his growth feel earned rather than convenient.
Shreya balances multiple tones masterfully, shifting from laugh out loud moments to genuine emotional depth. The mythology feels accessible even if you're not familiar with Hindu traditions. Short, impactful, and surprisingly moving. I returned to certain passages multiple times, finding new meaning with each reading.
The book doesn't provide easy answers to the questions it raises, which initially frustrated me but ultimately felt more honest. Real transformation is messy and incomplete, and Shreya captures that reality beautifully.
Shreya balances multiple tones masterfully, shifting from laugh out loud moments to genuine emotional depth. The mythology feels accessible even if you're not familiar with Hindu traditions. Short, impactful, and surprisingly moving. I returned to certain passages multiple times, finding new meaning with each reading.
The book doesn't provide easy answers to the questions it raises, which initially frustrated me but ultimately felt more honest. Real transformation is messy and incomplete, and Shreya captures that reality beautifully.
December 19, 2025
Tapas does something really clever by making its protagonist someone who doesn't want to be special. Mahil's entire vibe is "can I please just exist without cosmic intervention" and honestly, mood. But Shreya uses his resistance to explore how meaning finds us even when we're actively avoiding it. The Divyakul groups embody devotion through lived experience rather than ritual, which sparked so many thoughts about performative versus genuine belief in modern contexts. The plot moves quickly, each chapter adding new layers without feeling cluttered. What impressed me was the emotional intelligence in the writing, characters respond to situations in ways that feel psychologically real. If you're tired of chosen one narratives where the hero immediately embraces their destiny, this offers a much more realistic alternative. The secondary characters have depth and agency beyond serving Mahil's arc, which made the world feel populated with actual people rather than narrative devices. Shreya's understanding of how exhaustion and overwhelm actually manifest in behavior added credibility that kept me invested even during the most fantastical moments.
January 6, 2026
I appreciated how Tapas treated its readers like adults capable of handling complexity. The worldbuilding unfolds gradually, trusting you to piece things together rather than dumping exposition. Mahil's voice carries the entire narrative, his exhausted commentary providing both humor and emotional anchor.
The immortal characters surrounding him represent different approaches to existing across time, each one reflecting different aspects of how we grapple with purpose. Shreya's prose stays lean and purposeful, no wasted words. The mythology feels lived in rather than constructed, like these traditions have actual weight and history. By the end, I found myself thinking about my own relationship with belief systems and whether I'm truly living my stated values or just performing them for others.
Thought provoking without being preachy, the book works as both entertainment and meditation, which is a difficult balance to achieve. I could easily reread it focusing on completely different elements and have an entirely new experience. That layering of meaning beneath an accessible surface story demonstrates real craft and intention in Shreya's writing.
The immortal characters surrounding him represent different approaches to existing across time, each one reflecting different aspects of how we grapple with purpose. Shreya's prose stays lean and purposeful, no wasted words. The mythology feels lived in rather than constructed, like these traditions have actual weight and history. By the end, I found myself thinking about my own relationship with belief systems and whether I'm truly living my stated values or just performing them for others.
Thought provoking without being preachy, the book works as both entertainment and meditation, which is a difficult balance to achieve. I could easily reread it focusing on completely different elements and have an entirely new experience. That layering of meaning beneath an accessible surface story demonstrates real craft and intention in Shreya's writing.
December 9, 2025
As someone who grew up hearing mythology from my grandparents but never really connecting with it, Tapas felt like a bridge between those old stories and my actual life. Shreya doesn't just retell myths, she asks what they mean when you're trying to figure out who you are.
The Divyakul system made me think about how I show up in the world versus what I claim to believe. Mahil's constant exhaustion is so Gen Z coded, honestly. He's not trying to save the world enthusiastically, he's just trying to survive it with his sanity mostly intact. The book moves fast but doesn't feel rushed. I finished it feeling like I'd been on a journey that mattered, not just entertained.
Definitely recommending this to anyone who wants mythology that actually speaks to modern confusion. The way ancient concepts translate into contemporary struggles without losing their essence is remarkable. Shreya manages to honor tradition while questioning it, which is exactly the balance my generation needs when approaching inherited beliefs and cultural narratives.
The Divyakul system made me think about how I show up in the world versus what I claim to believe. Mahil's constant exhaustion is so Gen Z coded, honestly. He's not trying to save the world enthusiastically, he's just trying to survive it with his sanity mostly intact. The book moves fast but doesn't feel rushed. I finished it feeling like I'd been on a journey that mattered, not just entertained.
Definitely recommending this to anyone who wants mythology that actually speaks to modern confusion. The way ancient concepts translate into contemporary struggles without losing their essence is remarkable. Shreya manages to honor tradition while questioning it, which is exactly the balance my generation needs when approaching inherited beliefs and cultural narratives.
October 28, 2025
I devoured Tapas in two days flat and now my head feels like it’s been rewired.
That Divyakul concept? Insane. Three clans literally living their gods through thoughts, speech, and action. Not worshipping. Embodiment. It’s so fresh, so audacious.
And Mahil — my guy — permanently exhausted, drenched in sarcasm, wandering through celestial drama like “why am I here again?” His human chaos balances the book’s grand themes beautifully.
What threw me off (in the best way) was the humor. It’s hysterical one page, philosophical the next. Shreya doesn’t toggle between fun and depth; she fuses them.
The adventure works, but what really sticks is Mahil’s inner shift, that disoriented search for self amid collapsing belief systems. I felt that.
If mythology that feels alive and witty sounds like your thing, don’t even think twice. Tapas delivers.
That Divyakul concept? Insane. Three clans literally living their gods through thoughts, speech, and action. Not worshipping. Embodiment. It’s so fresh, so audacious.
And Mahil — my guy — permanently exhausted, drenched in sarcasm, wandering through celestial drama like “why am I here again?” His human chaos balances the book’s grand themes beautifully.
What threw me off (in the best way) was the humor. It’s hysterical one page, philosophical the next. Shreya doesn’t toggle between fun and depth; she fuses them.
The adventure works, but what really sticks is Mahil’s inner shift, that disoriented search for self amid collapsing belief systems. I felt that.
If mythology that feels alive and witty sounds like your thing, don’t even think twice. Tapas delivers.
October 30, 2025
Alright, let’s be real, Tapas caught me off guard.
I went in expecting myth retelling, came out rethinking faith. Shreya isn’t revisiting old stories; she’s dissecting what happens when devotion turns hollow. Her Divyakul, living embodiments of gods through karma, are such a clever metaphor for spiritual authenticity.
Mahil is the perfect counterpoint. He’s done, skeptical, running on sarcasm and caffeine. His refusal to “buy in” makes everything around him feel grounded and believable. When he changes, you feel it.
What amazed me most is the tonal balance. Deep one minute, hilarious the next like life itself. Nothing feels random; every beat matters.
It’s smart, heartfelt, and original in ways that sneak up on you. Tapas doesn’t preach, it provokes, and it stays with you long after the last page.
I went in expecting myth retelling, came out rethinking faith. Shreya isn’t revisiting old stories; she’s dissecting what happens when devotion turns hollow. Her Divyakul, living embodiments of gods through karma, are such a clever metaphor for spiritual authenticity.
Mahil is the perfect counterpoint. He’s done, skeptical, running on sarcasm and caffeine. His refusal to “buy in” makes everything around him feel grounded and believable. When he changes, you feel it.
What amazed me most is the tonal balance. Deep one minute, hilarious the next like life itself. Nothing feels random; every beat matters.
It’s smart, heartfelt, and original in ways that sneak up on you. Tapas doesn’t preach, it provokes, and it stays with you long after the last page.
November 1, 2025
Tapas isn’t just a story, it’s actually a quiet revolution in how we read mythology.
Forget retellings. Shreya creates a living world where faith is not spoken but enacted, where the divine lives through human flaws. The Divyakul are less fantasy, more philosophy, embodiments of thought, word, and deed.
At the heart of it stands Mahil, gloriously reluctant, defiantly human. He doesn’t want to be part of the grand design, and precisely because of that, he earns his transformation. Watching him resist meaning only to stumble into it feels profoundly real.
Each immortal, each conflict, breathes with purpose. Shreya trusts her reader : no hand-holding, no overexplaining. You find clarity only by walking the maze.
If you crave mythology that questions instead of preaches, Tapas will meet you halfway and challenge you to think the rest.
Forget retellings. Shreya creates a living world where faith is not spoken but enacted, where the divine lives through human flaws. The Divyakul are less fantasy, more philosophy, embodiments of thought, word, and deed.
At the heart of it stands Mahil, gloriously reluctant, defiantly human. He doesn’t want to be part of the grand design, and precisely because of that, he earns his transformation. Watching him resist meaning only to stumble into it feels profoundly real.
Each immortal, each conflict, breathes with purpose. Shreya trusts her reader : no hand-holding, no overexplaining. You find clarity only by walking the maze.
If you crave mythology that questions instead of preaches, Tapas will meet you halfway and challenge you to think the rest.
October 31, 2025
CONCEPT: A world divided among three Divyakul who live divine legacies through thought (Manas), speech (Vachi), and action (Kailashansh). A compact idea executed with stunning nuance.
CHARACTER: Mahil is tired, funny, and heartbreakingly human. His reluctant engagement with gods and immortals keeps the narrative alive with humor and pathos.
PACING: Relentless yet measured. Every chapter matters. The quest structure ensures movement while allowing reflection.
PROSE: Clean, assured, and occasionally poetic. Shreya’s restraint amplifies both humor and emotion.
OVERALL: Tapas manages to be witty, weighty, and wise all at once. It’s modern mythology written with a filmmaker’s eye and a philosopher’s heart.
CHARACTER: Mahil is tired, funny, and heartbreakingly human. His reluctant engagement with gods and immortals keeps the narrative alive with humor and pathos.
PACING: Relentless yet measured. Every chapter matters. The quest structure ensures movement while allowing reflection.
PROSE: Clean, assured, and occasionally poetic. Shreya’s restraint amplifies both humor and emotion.
OVERALL: Tapas manages to be witty, weighty, and wise all at once. It’s modern mythology written with a filmmaker’s eye and a philosopher’s heart.
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