There’s something quietly humbling about watching the first light kiss a mountain peak. That tender moment when gold spills over white, and the world holds its breath — it’s not just sunrise; it’s surrender. Reading Climbing a Mountain: Short Stories Inspired by Trekking by Ranjit Kulkarni felt like standing in that fragile dawn — awed, aware, and suddenly small in the best possible way. I have not climbed any mountain — not in the literal sense. But yes, I have climbed man
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 first time I caught myself arguing with my own brain — a split-second tug of war between “I know this can’t be true” and “But it feels true.” It happened at a café when I instinctively chose the bolder-looking dessert label, assuming it was the better one. Later that night, with Daniel Kahneman’s Thinking, Fast and Slow open on my lap, I realized — I had just lived one of his lessons. That tiny, impulsive decision was my System 1 — fast, automatic, intuitive —
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 books that entertain you, and then there are books that quietly sit beside you — like an old friend, gently reminding you who you really are. Bonds by Tirtho Banerjee belongs to the latter. It doesn’t shout for attention. It lingers. It breathes. It listens. And somewhere between its ten short stories, it holds up a mirror — not to the extraordinary, but to the heartbreakingly ordinary moments that make us human. I first picked up Bonds expecting to read about peo
There’s something quietly cinematic about reading a Taylor Jenkins Reid novel. You don’t just read her stories — you inhabit them. Her worlds hum with nostalgia, ambition, heartbreak, and hope, all lit by the glow of complex women who refuse to fit neatly into anyone’s expectations. And in Atmosphere , Reid takes her storytelling somewhere it’s never been before — into orbit. She’s done Hollywood ( The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo ), music ( Daisy Jones & The Six ), and s
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,
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
There’s a peculiar kind of madness that only Mumbai can offer — the kind that smells like rain on asphalt, sounds like a thousand horns arguing at once, and feels like hope stubbornly pushing through chaos. Vrushali Samant’s Madness in Mumbai: When Forty Gets Naughty bottles that madness, shakes it up with heartbreak, humour, and heat — and hands it to you with a wink. It’s fizzy, messy, and utterly intoxicating. Vrushali Samant, who’s known for her sharp wit and eye for em
