Posts from the history category.
The fatigue arrived before the admiration did.Not physical tiredness — something deeper. The kind that settles in the shoulders when you realize how long power has been carried, argued over, bent, and bruised.I finished the book late at night. The house had already decided to sleep. I stayed back, sitting upright longer than needed, aware of a quiet inside me that hadn’t been there before. Not sti...
I didn’t open this book looking for courage.I opened it expecting information.What I found instead was a quiet lineage of bravery — lives lived when there were no safety nets, no hashtags, no reassuring headlines saying things will get better. Over The Rainbow: India’s Queer Heroes doesn’t rush at you with noise. It walks beside you, calmly, carrying stories that were never meant to be erased, onl...
Some books don’t begin when you open them.They begin much earlier — in the quiet fears you carry about love, in the endings you never got to choose, in the stories you were forced to leave unfinished.The Things We Leave Unfinished met me exactly there.I picked this book up with assumptions. I’ll admit that upfront. I thought I was walking into a glossy, trope-heavy romance — something indulgent, d...
They say that if you grow up in Maharashtra, Shivaji Maharaj isn’t just a historical figure — he’s a presence. A pulse. A silhouette carved into your imagination long before you even learn to spell “history.” And over the years, we’ve all read countless books about him: some glorifying him into near-myth, some dissecting his tactics with academic precision, some reducing him to a chapter squeezed ...
Some books don’t begin when you open them — they begin somewhere inside you, years earlier, with a question you didn’t know you were carrying. For me, it was a dusty memory of a veteran I once met who said, in a voice that trembled just once, “War is a memory you spend your whole life negotiating with.”I never forgot that line.And the day I opened Kristin Hannah’s The Women, it returned to me, lik...
Some books don’t wait politely for your attention — they kick the door open and sweep you into another world before you even realize you’ve crossed a threshold. Circle of Days by Ken Follett did that to me. I wasn’t prepared. One moment I was sinking into my sofa after a long day, absently flipping pages just to unwind, and the next, I was standing barefoot on the Great Plain of prehistoric Britai...
What does it mean to race against time — not metaphorically, not poetically, but in the brutal, breath-snatching, pulse-in-your-throat way where every second could save a life or end one? I asked myself that question somewhere around 2 a.m., sitting alone with a cup of ginger tea gone cold, unable to put Jeffrey Archer’s End Game down. It’s funny how books sometimes choose their own reading condit...
The funny thing about constitutions is that most of us don’t think about them until something shakes us. A protest on the street. A headline that burns our eyes. A conversation that leaves us unsettled long after the tea has gone cold. For me, it happened on a quiet Sunday morning, sunlight spilling across my table, newspapers spread out like a battlefield of opinions — and suddenly, I felt the we...
I didn’t mean to start this book on a weekday night. I really didn’t. I had promised myself an early sleep, a calm mind, maybe even some music. But books have a strange way of choosing their own timing, don’t they? Escape from Kabul by Dr. Enakshi Sengupta didn’t knock politely — it slipped into my hands like a pulse waiting to be heard. And somewhere between opening the first page and taking the ...
