I remember the first time I walked through Dharavi — not as a tourist, not as a spectator, but as a quiet observer trying to make sense of its heartbeat. The lanes were alive with motion — children darting between tin roofs, the hum of machines from leather workshops, the scent of wet earth mingling with chai and sweat. Amid that pulse, there was something else too — an invisible current of resilience, a kind of defiant grace.   Reading The Awakening of Dharavi by Atul Arjun

It starts like a film with the sound turned low — a ceiling fan humming, rain smudging a window, someone breathing too carefully in the dark. That’s how Solitude opens — not with a scream, but with the kind of silence that makes your skin remember things you’ve tried to forget.   I didn’t pick this book to be scared. I picked it because the title felt eerily familiar. Solitude. That tender, terrifying word. The one that sometimes heals, sometimes destroys. And Shubham Jain, i

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 books that inform, and then there are books that transform. The Power of Moments by Chip Heath and Dan Heath belongs firmly in the latter camp — the kind of book that makes you look up from the page, stare into space for a few seconds, and whisper to yourself, “Why didn’t I think of that?”   I remember finishing the first chapter on a rainy Sunday morning, coffee in hand, and feeling oddly… awake. Not in the caffeine sense, but in the way your mind wakes up when it

Some stories feel like echoes of your grandparents’ voices — warm, worn by time, and yet carrying the pulse of youth. Rising from the Roots is one such tale. It’s not just a book; it’s a living bridge between generations, where dreams meet dirt, failure meets faith, and legacy is built not by luck, but by labour.   What caught my eye first wasn’t just the premise — three generations, three battles, one enduring spirit — but the author himself. Yuvraj Dangi, just 15, writes wi

It began with a chuckle. A friend had once told me, “Women don’t juggle—they perform a circus act with grace.” I didn’t quite get it until I read Lady, You’re Not a Man! by Apoorva Purohit. Somewhere between her witty anecdotes about lazy husbands, sulky interns, and those sacred office coffee breaks that save one’s sanity, I found myself nodding, smiling, and occasionally sighing at the mirror she held up — not just to women, but to the world that expects them to be superher

There are books that feel like thick tomes, demanding months of your time, and then there are the slender ones — the kind you slip into...

If you’ve ever stood in a supermarket aisle with a wailing toddler, frantically wondering whether you’re doing this whole parenting thing...