There are books you read. And then there are books that read you. I wasn’t expecting that kind of encounter when I opened The Aware Being Code late one night, intending to sample just a few pages before sleep. But somewhere between the author’s quiet invitation and the mirror it held up to parts of myself I rarely sit with, I found myself wide awake at 3 a.m., staring at the ceiling, asking questions I didn’t know I needed to ask. Questions about purpose. About the wounds we

I still remember the first time I heard Piyush Mishra live—his words flowing like a river that refuses to be dammed, each syllable carrying the weight of years, pain, joy, and unrestrained passion. The air itself seemed to hum with his energy, each note and gesture leaving invisible ripples that lingered long after the applause. Holding Tumhari Auqat Kya Hai now, I realize reading this book is like stepping into that same river—letting yourself be carried along, immersed comp

The funny thing about constitutions is that most of us don’t think about them until something shakes us. A protest on the street. A headline that burns our eyes. A conversation that leaves us unsettled long after the tea has gone cold. For me, it happened on a quiet Sunday morning, sunlight spilling across my table, newspapers spread out like a battlefield of opinions—and suddenly, I felt the weight of a question I had never asked myself seriously: Do I truly understand the C

I didn’t ease into When I Hit You — it felt more like stumbling into a scene already in motion. The kind where the camera is trembling, the soundtrack has gone silent, and you realise you’ve entered a story that isn’t waiting for you to settle in. Friends had mentioned how intense it was, but nothing prepares you for the way this book grips your collar and says, “Stay. Watch.” A few pages in, I knew I wasn’t reading for leisure; I was witnessing a life being peeled open.   Me

Some books don’t begin on the first page; they begin in the pause before you open them — in that quiet suspicion that what you’re about to read might just drag you into a world where ambition smells like cologne, betrayal sounds like a sliding boardroom door, and success tastes a little metallic, like fear. The Acting MD 2 made me feel exactly that way. Before I even reached chapter one, I had this uncanny sense that I had stepped onto a tall glass elevator inside Indus City

Some books arrive like history textbooks. This one walked in like an elder at a family gathering — the kind who has lived through storms, celebrated quiet victories, and now leans forward with a twinkle that says, “Let me tell you a story. Our story.” I opened Sanjaya Baru’s Journey of a Nation: 75 Years of Indian Economy expecting charts and chapters. What I got instead felt like sitting across a wooden café table with someone who had watched a nation rise from the dust of c

I launched my first book at 44 My daughter launched hers at 11 — published by Pais Friends Library, Dombivli. And somewhere between those two milestones, I discovered that sometimes children don’t just follow our footsteps… they show us new paths.   That revelation came to me through The Day I Stopped Watching Reels, the debut story by my daughter, Vira Gudhate. When she handed me the manuscript, I expected innocence. But what I found inside those pages was something far more

Some books arrive like old friends. Others enter like sudden winds that rearrange the curtains of your inner room. Chopra’s Abundance walked in like a polite guest with a quiet smile… and then proceeded to rearrange half the furniture in my mind. Not violently — but gently, insistently, the way a truth does when it’s been waiting far too long.   Deepak Chopra, of course, is no stranger to this particular art. For decades, he’s been the soft-spoken rebel of the wellness world

I didn’t mean to start this book on a weekday night. I really didn’t. I had promised myself an early sleep, a calm mind, maybe even some music. But books have a strange way of choosing their own timing, don’t they? Escape from Kabul by Dr. Enakshi Sengupta didn’t knock politely — it slipped into my hands like a pulse waiting to be heard. And somewhere between opening the first page and taking the first sip of my green tea, the world around me went quiet. By page three, the te

There are days that taste like heartbreak — metallic and cold — and there are days that smell of rain-soaked second chances. The Do-Over by Lynn Painter lives somewhere between the two, looping endlessly in that bittersweet space where pain and hope take turns holding your heart.   I still remember my first Lynn Painter read — Better Than the Movies — a warm, quirky rom-com that made me believe in the healing power of laughter. Painter has that uncanny gift: she writes teen s

There are books that inform you, and then there are books that change how you see. Hide But Seek by Mishti Verma belongs to the latter — the kind that quietly rearranges your thoughts, leaving you both stirred and stilled.   I’ll admit, as a man, I began this book with curiosity — almost as an observer, wanting to understand what “the feminine voice” truly means in a world that often speaks over it. But within a few pages, curiosity turned to connection. Mishti’s words don’t

It begins with a gunshot — not one fired in the pages, but the echo of a life lived on the edge of it. As I turned the first few pages of The Enforcer, I felt as though I had stepped into the heart of India’s most volatile battleground — Uttar Pradesh — where the line between justice and survival often blurs, and one man in uniform dares to walk that trembling line every single day.   Written by Anirudhya Mitra — the investigative journalist who once broke the biggest stories

It’s strange, isn’t it — how love sneaks up on you in the smallest of moments? A random smile from a stranger, a dog wagging its tail, a message from an old friend. That’s how this book found me too — quietly, unexpectedly, but all at once. Love, Multiplied (111 Times) didn’t shout for attention. It whispered. And somehow, that whisper was louder than all the noise around me.   Curated by Megha Bajaj — an author, TEDx speaker, educator, and someone who seems to have mastered

Some books hand you rosy dreams of overnight success. The Hard Thing About Hard Things does the opposite — it kicks down the door, stares you straight in the face, and says, “You want to build something real? Good. Now let’s see if you can survive it.”   The first time I picked it up, I expected another glossy Silicon Valley playbook — filled with startup jargon, VC buzzwords, and motivational fluff. What I found instead was something raw, unfiltered, and, strangely, human. B

There’s something about opening a John Grisham novel that feels like walking into a familiar courtroom — the scent of old wood, the hum of ceiling fans, the quiet rustle before the verdict. You know it’ll be good, but you don’t know how it’ll surprise you this time. And with The Widow, Grisham doesn’t just surprise — he reinvents himself. After three decades of giving us legal thrillers that crackle with moral complexity, he ventures into a whodunit, and it’s as if the master

There are books that whisper. Books that reason. And then there are books that roar. Giorgia Meloni’s I Am Giorgia: My Roots, My Principles belongs to the last kind — the kind that slaps you awake before you’ve finished your espresso. Reading it felt like sitting across a table from a woman who doesn’t just speak — she commands the air around her. Whether you agree with her politics or not, it’s impossible to look away.   Meloni, Italy’s first female Prime Minister, has been

There’s something profoundly beautiful about inherited wisdom — the kind that isn’t written in textbooks but whispered over steaming cups of chai in courtyards fragrant with history. The Marwari Mindset: 10 Proverbs. 10 Stories. 100 Years of Business Wisdom by Chetan Murarka feels like sitting beside an elder who doesn’t just tell you how to do business, but how to live with dignity, discipline, and depth. It’s a rare kind of book — one that doesn’t chase you with flashy succ

I remember the first time I watched a reality show unfold in real life—the bright lights, the cheers, the subtle whisper of alliances forming in shadows—and felt a strange thrill, a mix of envy and fascination. That same pulse ran through me as I turned the pages of Valedictorian by Shrestha Raychaudhuri, a book that sneaks up on you like a whispered confession and refuses to let go. Shrestha, already celebrated for her keen insight into human psychology, delivers a story tha

There are some books that don’t just tell a story — they unspool a silence you’ve been carrying within yourself. The Far Field by Madhuri Vijay is one of them. I remember reading it late one evening, the rain tapping against my window like a nervous confession. By the time I closed the book, I wasn’t sure whether it was the rain outside or the one that had started within me.   Madhuri Vijay, in her debut, doesn’t announce herself with fireworks. She arrives like mist — quietl

I remember the exact moment I discovered The God of Small Things—the air sticky with monsoon humidity, the smell of old paper, the faint clatter of a train in the distance—and how the world Roy created felt impossibly alive in my hands. Until then, the Booker Prize was just a shiny emblem, a distant flag waving over literature’s vast plains. But Roy made it pulse with heartbeat, heartbreak, and mischief. Picking up Mother Mary Comes to Me decades later, I felt that same elect