I didn’t open this book looking for courage. I opened it expecting information.   What I found instead was a quiet lineage of bravery—lives lived when there were no safety nets, no hashtags, no reassuring headlines saying things will get better. Over The Rainbow: India’s Queer Heroes doesn’t rush at you with noise. It walks beside you, calmly, carrying stories that were never meant to be erased, only ignored.   Edited by Aditya Tiwari, this anthology brings together nineteen

I didn’t pick up The Art of Focus on a calm morning with incense burning and soothing flute music in the background — although that might have made me look more aligned with the title. Instead, I opened it on a messy weekday evening, surrounded by half-finished tasks, buzzing phone notifications, and a mind that felt like 37 browser tabs open at once. Ironically, I reached for a book about focus while being the least focused version of myself.   And maybe that’s exactly why t

There are books you read with a cup of tea in hand, letting the warmth seep into your palms while the pages gently turn. And then there are books that snatch the cup right out of your grasp, sending it crashing to the floor because—what just happened? The Mussoorie Murders by Divyaroop Bhatnagar did exactly that to me. I opened it expecting a quiet weekend read. Instead, I found myself wide awake past midnight, staring at the ceiling, replaying clues like a detective who refu

Some stories don’t knock politely before entering your life. They walk straight in, sit across from you like an old friend, and before you know it, they’ve moved something inside you that you didn’t even realize needed shifting. Whispers in the Mist: Tales from a Himalayan Hamlet by Prerna Dewan was one such unexpected visitor. I began reading it on an ordinary evening, thinking I’d finish a chapter or two before bed. But the moment I stepped onto those mist-draped hills of D

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

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

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

There are some books you don’t just read — you inhabit them. They unfold like an old photograph album, where every page carries a scent, a story, a heartbeat. I Came Upon a Lighthouse by Shantanu Naidu, with illustrations by Sanjana Desai, is one such book. It’s not a biography, not exactly a memoir, but a feeling — warm, humane, and quietly luminous — much like the man at its center: Ratan Tata.   I still remember the first time I turned its pages on a quiet Sunday morning,

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 begins, as most real things do, not with fireworks but with a question. “What if marriage isn’t about finding the right person, but about becoming one?” That thought hit me somewhere between a sip of chai and the first few pages of Bhupendra Jain’s Before the Seven Vows: Conversations Every Couple Should Have Before Marriage. It’s not your typical relationship self-help book that tosses you a checklist and bids you good luck. It’s more like a wise friend — grounded, patien

It began with the smell of old paper. That faint, woody fragrance that seeps into your skin when you hold a well-loved book — the kind of...

The first time I picked up Tales from the Absurd, I half-expected a neat little box of stories where everything had its place, logic...

When you think of crime stories, your mind might immediately drift to gritty fictional thrillers or TV shows where detectives solve cases...

The first time I saw Sanjay Dutt on screen, I remember thinking: this man is either acting or simply being himself. The swagger felt too...

When was the last time a children’s book made you cry? Not the quiet sting-in-the-eye cry but the kind that makes you stop, put the book...

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...

There are books that whisper to you, books that sing, and then there are books that lurk in the corner of your room like a shadow you...

There’s a peculiar comfort in leafing through a book that feels like both a mirror and a map. I didn’t expect a book on the Constitution...

There’s a certain sound that belongs only to India during election season. It isn’t the speeches or the drumbeats, not even the...

I’ll tell you where I was when I opened Sach Kahun Toh. Midnight. Rain outside. My bedside lamp spilling that warm amber glow across the...