I remember the first time I curled up beside my grandmother on a chilly winter evening, the aroma of simmering kahwa filling the room, as she spun tales that danced between the real and the magical. There was always a hush in the air, punctuated by the crackle of the fireplace and the occasional shiver of delight or fear. Opening Dadi, Dantkatha and the Djinns by Avanti Sopory felt like stepping back into that very moment, a portal into a world where the snow-dusted valleys o
There’s something about prisons that unsettles me — not the concrete, the locks, or the barbed wire, but the silence. That heavy, echoing silence that follows you like a shadow, whispering stories you’re not supposed to hear. When I picked up Black Warrant: Confessions of a Tihar Jailer by Sunil Gupta and Sunetra Choudhury, I thought I was signing up for a cold, procedural memoir — a peek behind the bars of India’s most infamous jail. Instead, I found a mirror — cracked, smok
It began with a chuckle. A friend had once told me, “Women don’t juggle—they perform a circus act with grace.” I didn’t quite get it until I read Lady, You’re Not a Man! by Apoorva Purohit. Somewhere between her witty anecdotes about lazy husbands, sulky interns, and those sacred office coffee breaks that save one’s sanity, I found myself nodding, smiling, and occasionally sighing at the mirror she held up — not just to women, but to the world that expects them to be superher
