Sameer Gudhate Presents the Book Review of Hide But Seek by Mishti Verma

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 exclude; they embrace. They invite you, gently but firmly, to look beyond gender and into the raw human need to be seen, heard, and allowed to exist without shrinking.

Mishti Verma — writer, coach, and expressive arts therapist — has worked with more than 7000 women through her initiative Inner Katha. That number alone tells you something about her depth of listening. Yet this book isn’t just a reflection of her work; it’s a mirror to the quiet battles women (and, by extension, all of us) fight within. Hide But Seek is a unique blend of poetic gender essays, coaching stories, and deeply personal reflections. It’s not theory — it’s lived truth.

One line that stayed with me long after I closed the book:“I was not making a rangoli… I was painting my boundaries.”That moment — defiant, sacred, and symbolic — perfectly captures the spirit of the book. It isn’t about rebellion for rebellion’s sake; it’s about reclaiming space, one honest expression at a time.

The beauty of Mishti’s writing lies in its rhythm — it flows between poetry and prose like breath between heartbeats. Some passages are soft as prayer, others cut like truth unfiltered. She writes of bottled rage — the kind women swallow in the name of being “good” — and teaches how to release it through expression, not suppression. Through dance, tears, poetry, or art — through anything that lets the soul speak before it turns into a storm.

There’s a section where she writes about Rudaalis — women who cry on behalf of others — and links it to our collective discomfort with emotion. Reading it, I realized how society denies vulnerability to both genders: men are told not to cry; women are told not to get angry. Both end up silent. Mishti’s book becomes a bridge across that silence — an invitation for both men and women to express without apology.

The structure itself mirrors this fluidity — essays interspersed with poems, stories tucked between reflections. The unpredictability feels intentional, like life itself. One page offers the story of India’s first visually impaired aerobics trainer; the next, a poem urging women to giggle like schoolgirls. It’s this blend of gravity and playfulness that gives Hide But Seek its pulse.

Mishti’s tone feels like that of a wise elder sister — compassionate but unsparing. She dismantles the exhausting myth of the “good girl” and the “superwoman” — those silent achievers expected to hold up the sky while pretending not to sweat. Her theatre-based program Bahu versus Bottomline is a standout example, shining light on the burnout faced by working women juggling double shifts — at home and at work.

As a man, this book made me introspect. I found myself thinking of my mother, who never called her sacrifices by name, and of the quiet strength she carried through years of expectations. Mishti’s words, at times, felt like they were speaking to that generation — and to mine — reminding us that liberation begins at home. That equality isn’t a slogan but a shared responsibility.

Not every section has the same emotional tempo — a few coaching exercises momentarily slow the flow — but even then, there’s purpose. Mishti grounds the ethereal with the practical. Her references to Shakti and the divine feminine never drift into abstraction; they pulse with lived experience. Her “red ink” — symbolizing both power and rage — stains the page beautifully, demanding not pity, but participation.

The real strength of Hide But Seek lies in how it makes you feel. I didn’t just read about women reclaiming their voices — I found myself reflecting on how men, too, are conditioned to hide behind masks of stoicism. Somewhere between her poems and stories, the book becomes less about gender and more about humanity — about reclaiming every silenced part of ourselves.

By the time I reached the final page, I wasn’t just reading for women — I was reading with them. And that shift, I think, is the quiet revolution this book ignites.

Mishti Verma doesn’t just write; she converses. She doesn’t shout for change; she sings it — low, steady, and unwavering.

If you’ve ever wondered what courage looks like in words, this is it.

If you’ve ever wanted to understand — truly understand — what it means to live authentically, this is where you begin.

Read Hide But Seek not to decode womanhood, but to rediscover your own wholeness. Because the truth is, we’re all hiding something. And maybe, like Mishti says, the only way to find it — is to seek.

🌸 Let this book be your mirror, your map, and your gentle reminder that real strength begins with expression.

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