There is a particular kind of love that does not begin with conversation. It begins with watching.   While reading Heart Overruled – A Bengali-Tamil Romance by Debanjana Mukherjee, I kept returning to the image of a sixteen-year-old girl at her sister’s wedding, standing amidst marigold garlands and ritual chants, quietly memorising the face of a man who barely registers her presence. That first encounter is brief, almost fragile. For Parineeta, it is seismic. For Aravind, it

I opened The United Nations Conspiracy late at night with the casual confidence of someone who believes they control their reading habits. One chapter, maybe two, I told myself. Somewhere between the first disappearance and the first coded warning, I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes had passed. It felt like an hour. My cup of warm water went cold beside me, unnoticed, as New York City stopped being a setting and turned into a living countdown. This book doesn’t unfold gently

I keep thinking about how casually we take photographs now. A thumb tap. A half-smile. A moment frozen without intention. Kachri Kamble: Selfie That Rewrote Politics made me uneasy about that casualness. It reminded me that in the age of spectacle, innocence doesn’t need to be loud to be punished—it only needs to be visible.   I read this book slowly, not because the narrative drags, but because it presses against something tender. Sandeep Sinha begins with an act so ordinary

I didn’t read Shukriya Boganviliya in one sitting. Not because it was difficult—but because it kept asking me to stop. A poem would end, and instead of turning the page, I would sit there, feeling oddly addressed. As if someone had spoken my name softly and walked away.   Written by Nitya Shukla, Shukriya Boganviliya is a Hindi poetry collection that doesn’t ask for attention. It earns it quietly. Published by Highbrow Scribes Publications, this book carries an unassuming con