There are cities you visit. And then there are cities that sit inside you like unfinished conversations.   Reading Kolkata Ø KM by Swati Bhattacharyya felt less like turning pages and more like wandering through a house of echoes. Not haunted in a loud, theatrical way. Haunted the way memory is — soft-footed, patient, persistent.   This is not a book that rushes. It lingers. It circles. It asks you to sit with moments most of us hurry past.   What stayed with me most was the

We talk a lot about heartbreak. This book is about the decisions that come before it—the calculated exits, the postponed conversations, the confidence that silence is harmless. It explores how leaving doesn’t always require walking away. Sometimes it just requires not staying. Debasish Talukdar’s The Silence I Left Her In does not announce itself as a love story, nor does it pretend to be a redemption arc. It arrives more like a folded letter you find years later in an old dr

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