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

I remember the first time I watched a reality show unfold in real life—the bright lights, the cheers, the subtle whisper of alliances forming in shadows—and felt a strange thrill, a mix of envy and fascination. That same pulse ran through me as I turned the pages of Valedictorian by Shrestha Raychaudhuri, a book that sneaks up on you like a whispered confession and refuses to let go. Shrestha, already celebrated for her keen insight into human psychology, delivers a story tha