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There’s a particular kind of silence that settles in after you close a soft romance — the kind that doesn’t rush you back into the world, but asks you to sit still for a moment. Finding Our Forever left me in that silence. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just quietly present, like a cup of tea gone lukewarm because you forgot to drink it while lost in thought.I went into this book the way I often do: with...
I finished Uneasy Spaces on an evening that promised nothing memorable. The room was familiar, the day had been uneventful, and my mind was already drifting toward routine thoughts. Yet when I closed the book, something inside me refused to move on. I wasn’t overwhelmed or shaken in any obvious way. I was simply… altered. As if I had spent time listening to people speak softly about their lives, a...
What happens when evil no longer needs to announce itself, and belief stops being about surrender and starts becoming a transaction?That question sits at the heart of Aghori of Manikarnika 2: The Trident of Shiva, and it lingers long after the story moves on. I didn’t close this book feeling entertained; I closed it feeling quietly confronted, as if something ancient had observed me without judgme...
I read True Treasure slowly at first, the way one steps into an unfamiliar house — alert, cautious, noticing the light and the corners. By the third chapter, that caution dissolved. I wasn’t visiting anymore; I was sitting on the floor with these lives, listening. This is the kind of book that doesn’t knock loudly for attention. It waits. And somehow, you lean in.Sudha Vishwanath’s debut novel arr...
I read The River Woman and Other Poems slowly, the way one reads something that does not want to be rushed. A few poems at night. One in the quiet between two tasks. Sometimes just a single page, because the lines had a way of lingering — like the aftersound of water moving past stones long after the river itself has slipped out of view.Renu Roy’s poetry does not announce itself loudly. It arrives...
Somewhere between stretching my back before the day began and pausing longer than usual in front of the mirror, I realized I am standing at a strange, quiet threshold. Fifty is no longer an abstract number. It’s a door I can see now. So when I picked up 50 Things to Realize Before It’s Too Late by Manoj Chenthamarakshan, it didn’t feel like a casual read — it felt like an appointment with myself.T...
I began Madam Commissioner expecting a memoir about power, postings, and protocol. What I did not expect was how quietly it would sit with me afterward — like the weight of a khaki uniform folded neatly on a chair, still warm from long use. This is not a book that shouts. It stands. Firmly. And asks you, without drama, to look at what integrity costs.Meeran Chadha Borwankar’s life has been written...
There are books you read with a pen in hand, underlining arguments, marking dates. And then there are books you read with your shoulders slightly tense, jaw tight, phone face-down beside you, because the world it speaks of is not safely contained between covers. Toward Armageddon belongs to the second kind. I found myself reading it not at a desk, but late at night, the room quiet, news alerts del...
Some books announce themselves with a thesis. This one arrived like humidity on skin — quiet, unavoidable, already inside the room before I knew it. I was reading, but I was also standing on a riverbank at night, ash cooling, water moving, the world refusing to pause for grief. That opening feeling never really left me. Dhara doesn’t ask for attention. It assumes you will eventually slow down enou...
Meri Aankhon Ka Mehtaab doesn’t ask to be read; it allows itself to be discovered, the way calm finds you only after exhaustion has done its work. I came to it out of habit, a few spare minutes, no particular expectation. And then something unfamiliar happened — the noise inside me softened. The world slowed its grip. A gentle warmth settled in, the kind you don’t notice immediately, only realize ...
