They say that if you grow up in Maharashtra, Shivaji Maharaj isn’t just a historical figure — he’s a presence. A pulse. A silhouette carved into your imagination long before you even learn to spell “history.” And over the years, we’ve all read countless books about him: some glorifying him into near-myth, some dissecting his tactics with academic precision, some reducing him to a chapter squeezed between the Mughals and the British. Yet, strangely, very few of those books eve

Some books don’t begin when you open them — they begin somewhere inside you, years earlier, with a question you didn’t know you were carrying. For me, it was a dusty memory of a veteran I once met who said, in a voice that trembled just once, “War is a memory you spend your whole life negotiating with.”I never forgot that line. And the day I opened Kristin Hannah’s The Women, it returned to me, like a hand on my shoulder saying, Pay attention. This one is about the hidden neg

Some books don’t wait politely for your attention — they kick the door open and sweep you into another world before you even realize you’ve crossed a threshold. Circle of Days by Ken Follett did that to me. I wasn’t prepared. One moment I was sinking into my sofa after a long day, absently flipping pages just to unwind, and the next, I was standing barefoot on the Great Plain of prehistoric Britain, tasting dust in the air and feeling the raw ache of ambition and conflict pre

What does it mean to race against time—not metaphorically, not poetically, but in the brutal, breath-snatching, pulse-in-your-throat way where every second could save a life or end one? I asked myself that question somewhere around 2 a.m., sitting alone with a cup of ginger tea gone cold, unable to put Jeffrey Archer’s End Game down. It’s funny how books sometimes choose their own reading conditions: silence outside, a faint hum of the ceiling fan, and a story that refuses to

There are books that arrive quietly, like soft rain tapping on a window. And then there are books like Wellness—that kick the door open, sit across from you in the dim light of a late-night café, and ask the kind of questions you’ve been trying very hard not to look at directly. The kind of questions that feel like staring into a mirror for too long.   What if love isn’t something we fall into once, but something we must choose again and again, even when the magic dissolves a

There are some books you don’t read — they read you. They peel you open like an orange, sting the soft inner parts you thought you’d hidden well, and leave you sitting in silence long after the final page has closed. The Bell Jar is that kind of book. I picked it up on a tired Tuesday night, expecting a literary classic with polite gloom, maybe a sprinkle of poetic sadness. Instead, it dragged me by the collar straight into the suffocating hush of a mind unravelling — and I’m

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

The first thing you should know is this: I didn’t intend to laugh at 1:17 a.m. on a weekday. But there I was, trying to be a responsible adult, and suddenly snorting into my pillow because a fictional python named Bertrand decided to make his displeasure known. If you’ve ever had a book ambush your sanity at an ungodly hour, you’ll know the exact flavour of joy I’m talking about. And that’s the peculiar magic Jonathan Pinnock brings to A Question of Trust — a mystery that beh

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

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 oddly satisfying about watching chaos simmer — in a test tube or a kitchen. Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus captures that messy alchemy of life, science, and womanhood with a spark that refuses to be contained. It’s the kind of book that arrives wearing a lab coat but hides a rebellious smile underneath — equal parts thought experiment and emotional explosion.   Bonnie Garmus, a debut author who was in her sixties when this novel made its grand entranc

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 —