Posts from the art category.
The Cafe that waited for Dawn. There was something different about “Chapter and brew”. It wasn’t the coffee- through the air that carried its warmth like an embrace - nor the faint hum of the old record player spinning in the corner, its melody tender and worn at the edges.No, it wasn’t the feeling the place held - as through the walls had learned to breathe with the rhythm of qui...
It began with the smell of old paper. That faint, woody fragrance that seeps into your skin when you hold a well-loved book — the kind of scent that tells you you’re home. The Bookseller of Mogga by Anand Suspi transported me straight into that world — of dusty shelves, sunlight filtering through slatted windows, and conversations that begin not with “How are you?” but with “Have you read this one...
Sameer Gudhate Presents the Book Review of Tales from the Absurd by Swati BhattacharyyaThe first time I picked up Tales from the Absurd, I half-expected a neat little box of stories where everything had its place, logic tucked in like napkins at a dinner table. But this book? It flipped the table. It asked logic to take a stroll, shut the door, and invited in the wild cousins of imagination — the ...
There are books that whisper to you, books that sing, and then there are books that lurk in the corner of your room like a shadow you can’t quite name. Ankita Panda’s The Helical: A Collection of Twisted Tales belongs to the last category. It didn’t invite me in politely; it stared at me with a quiet smile and asked, “Are you sure you’re ready?”Fifteen stories. That’s what the cover promised. But ...
There are some stories that don’t knock at your door with grand entrances — they slip in quietly, like a whisper in a crowded room. His Last Note by Harshitha Rajala is one of those. It doesn’t come at you with noise or spectacle, but with the fragile intimacy of two strangers exchanging scribbles on paper, and before you know it, you’re holding your breath, waiting for the next note as if it were...
Imagine this: the sound of rain tapping against your window late at night, that soft rhythm that makes the world slow down. You’re curled up with a cup of tea, and suddenly you stumble upon a book that doesn’t just echo the rain outside, but somehow breathes with it. That’s what happened when I picked up When A Butterfly Loves the Rain by Shriya Karthik. I didn’t just read this anthology of poems ...
They say books can transport you, but Parallel Whispers: Arya’s Journey by Priyanka Sharma didn’t just take me somewhere — it unsettled the ground beneath me. From the very first chapter, I felt like I was slipping into a dream that wasn’t mine, where every clue pulled me deeper and every silence felt alive. It’s rare to find a story that makes you question not just the character’s reality, but yo...
Art dies in stasis. It's movement is oxygen. Like a molecule of oxygen, someone exhales it and someone, something else inhales it. What that molecule enables is unpredictable. The end result of a multitude of uncontrollable vectors working on a closed system. Potentially a new creature breathes alive. Something unknown lurks. Subversion is art. Morphing is survival. I present my examples and rest ...
