A crown is supposed to be a symbol of power. But what if it is actually a debt? That was the thought I kept returning to while reading Rajesh Mehta’s Bleeding Crown: Protector of Sivi. Set in 726 BC, long before the familiar chapters of Indian history that most of us encounter in school, the novel takes us into the kingdom of Sivi, where a young prince is expected to inherit not merely a throne, but everything that comes with it—promises made by those before him, politi

There are some books you finish. And there are some books you escape from. Not Without My Daughter belongs to the second category. Because while reading Betty Mahmoody's account, I kept thinking about one frightening question: What happens when the person you trusted most becomes the person you have to protect your child from? Betty travels from America to Iran with her Iranian-American husband, Moody, and their four-year-old daughter, Mahtob. It is supposed to be a

There is a particular kind of guilt that doesn't arrive with an accusation. It arrives disguised as concern. “Are you eating too much?” “You should lose some weight.” “You're getting too ambitious.” “Don't you think you should spend more time with the family?” “Why are you so sensitive?” And because the person saying it is often an aunt, a parent, a colleague, a friend—or simply someone who believes they are entitled to an opinion—we are expected to accept it as

There is something almost irresistible about a young person who refuses to give up on a dream everyone else considers unrealistic. Especially when that dream involves Bollywood. Because Bollywood has spent decades teaching us to believe that somewhere between struggle and success, there will be a turning point. A phone call. An audition. A lucky break. A stranger who notices us. A game show with a life-changing prize. And perhaps that is why Bejoy Chowdhury—Joy—feels so

I have a confession. I like books that make me stop reading. Not because they are boring. Quite the opposite. Because sometimes I am reading a page and suddenly I have to look up and say, “Wait. What?” That happened quite a few times with What the What?! And, honestly, that is probably the best possible reaction to this book. I came to it expecting a book of strange facts, trivia and questions. I got that. But somewhere between one bizarre fact and another

Some love stories end. Some simply learn to exist differently. That is what stayed with me after reading Ashritta Saran’s Parallel Heartbeats. Ash and Aaryan find each other when they are young enough to believe that loving someone deeply should be enough. But growing up has a way of complicating even the purest emotions. Ambition enters. Distance enters. Circumstances enter. And eventually, two people who once felt like each other’s entire world have to discover who they

Somewhere around two in the morning, while reading Sonarelle: Stories That Echo, I found myself standing in the kitchen holding a steel tumbler of water I had forgotten to drink. The refrigerator hummed softly. A stray dog barked somewhere outside the building. And for nearly a full minute, I simply stood there thinking about a fictional child staring through a cracked window, desperate to feel seen. That is the kind of literary residue Bindu Unnikrishnan’s stories leave behi

There’s a particular kind of silence that exists between fathers and children. Not anger.Not distance either. Just years of unfinished conversations sitting quietly at the dining table. That silence kept returning to me while reading Yaar Papa by Divya Prakash Dubey. Not because the novel tries too hard to make you emotional, but because it understands something uncomfortable about Indian families — many fathers spend their entire lives proving themselves to the world w

There are books that open like a locked door being gently pushed, and there are books that open like a gunshot in a silent hall. This one begins somewhere in between. A celebrated detective is found murdered while still mid-investigation, and that single rupture in the system is enough to tilt the world of “Murder at the Palace: A Chanaksha Rajpoot Mystery” into motion. His assistant, Chanaksha Rajpoot, is left holding not just unfinished files but the weight of an unfinish

There are books that motivate you for a day… and then there are books that quietly rearrange the way you look at your own decisions. I found myself thinking about this long after I closed The Fate Factory: Design Your Own Destiny. Not in a loud, dramatic way. But in small, almost uncomfortable moments—like when I caught myself blaming circumstances for something I had clearly chosen. That’s the space this book operates in. Steven Covington doesn’t try to inspire you wit

There’s a certain kind of silence that doesn’t feel empty… it feels watchful. The kind you don’t notice at first. The kind that slowly begins to notice you. That’s the space I found myself in while reading The Tubewell House by Abhishek Chaudhary. At one level, it’s the story of Ashank Sinha—a man who has stepped away from the velocity of Mumbai’s financial world into the deceptive stillness of a village called Lawrenceganj. But very quickly, you realize this isn’t about

I still remember the feeling of finishing the first few chapters of Don’t Be That Donkey: A Modern Guide to Outsmarting the Obstacles in Your Way by Amuraj Srinath. I closed the Kindle for a moment, leaned back, and smiled a little — not because the book was comforting, but because it was brutally honest. Some books try to motivate you. This one tries to wake you up. The title itself feels playful at first, almost humorous. But as the narrative unfolds, the metaphor of th

Some books are read. Some books are experienced slowly, like a conversation that returns to you every year. October Junction by Divya Prakash Dubey felt exactly like that to me. Imagine meeting someone in a city that itself lives somewhere between reality and dreams. A city where time feels slower and conversations linger longer. In that setting, two strangers meet — not to build a conventional relationship, but to create something far more delicate: a connection that ref

Book cover of Birthday Stories edited by Haruki Murakami featuring minimalist design and birthday-themed imagery. There is something quietly unsettling about birthdays once you cross a certain age. The cake is still sweet, the candles still flicker, but beneath the ritual there is an inventory being taken. What did I become this year? What slipped away unnoticed? That is the emotional temperature of Birthday Stories, curated by Haruki Murakami — not festive, not nostalgic

I began Madam Commissioner expecting a memoir about power, postings, and protocol. What I did not expect was how quietly it would sit with me afterward—like the weight of a khaki uniform folded neatly on a chair, still warm from long use. This is not a book that shouts. It stands. Firmly. And asks you, without drama, to look at what integrity costs. Meeran Chadha Borwankar’s life has been written about often in headlines, but here it arrives stripped of spectacle. From the

There are stories that roar with grandeur, and there are stories that whisper eternal truths. The Story of Mahabharata: Part 3 by Kaushal...

There’s a strange kind of silence that follows a good martial arts fight — that heartbeat of stillness between power and peace. Reading...

The first time I picked up The Sex Book: A Joyful Journey of Self-Discovery by Leeza Mangaldas, I felt like I was sneaking chocolate from...

The first time I cracked open The Carpenter by Jon Gordon, I didn’t expect to be sitting with my coffee and suddenly wondering about the...

When I was a child, someone told me that Shiva was a god who could wear ashes as perfume, dance in cremation grounds as if they were...