Beyond the Book

  I wanted to take my time with this, to write it slowly, to process what I read and what I felt, and only then to push it in front of everyone. But often, I am left confused, asking myself questions, some I eventually answer, others that linger for days. This time, I am left with two. Their answers evade me as I sit down to write this. I do not want to call this a review. Arundhati Roy has endured far too much for someone like me to review her work. I want to call this an internal monologue, typed as I think, on a cold, rainy night. The first question finds its roots in an old conversation with a father figure in my life. “ Hunar, do you know what it means to be responsible? ” my mother asked me one day, on our way back from somewhere in Thailand. I, thinking rather highly of myself, took my time to fashion an answer that would sound different, philosophical, suitably impressive, given how well-read I believe myself to be, how capable of difficult conversations I thought I was. I ...

  I could have been anything, but I chose to be a bride. I often find myself suspended between the desire to be a self-sufficient, independent woman, needing no external validation to feel worthy, and the equally compelling longing to experience romance. After all, since the dawn of time, from the first caveman who dared to love another, the essential pursuit has been love. But what does love truly entail? Is it the act of providing, of making someone feel as cherished and irreplaceable as that ancestral earring your mother keeps locked away in the furthest cupboard? Or is love an adventure, thrilling, at times perilous, yet ultimately a refuge? I still grapple with these questions: whether I genuinely seek love, or if I belong to the generation of women raised to meet their own needs, to hold their own hands, and to rise without assistance. Don’t mistake me, I firmly believe that women in relationships can be equally, if not more, formidable than those who choose solitude. But h...

  Sisterhood in all its forms and glory has been my north star. Obviously, the universe decided not to give me a sister as a sibling yet sisterhood finds its roots in the most other-worldly relationships. But if I am actually being honest, sisterhood is also tiring. Being a "girls girl" requires empathy and sacrifice and a perpetual positive outlook on the circumstances life happens to throw at you which in my candid opinion, is not my cup of tea. Furthermore, if I am actually traversing the path of candidness and deadpan hilarity, the universe also decided not to humor me with the gift of an all-encompassing and enriching female friendship thereby leading to this defeatist attitude.  Emotional vomit aside, Blue Sisters was my attempt at sisterhood, one step towards my north star in order to simply understand and for once, enjoy the ever-giving love that popular culture said sisterhood brings with itself. And boy, was I let down again (haha, bi*ch).  I love Mellors for th...

  Semester breaks are often meant for larger-than-life goals to hit another milestone in reading books which ultimately led me to this tear-jerker by Nona Uppal. A book stands out even more for a reader like me who is engulfed in the folds of the plot which leads to all-nighters, zero social media for 5-6 hours, and a sense of (forced) fulfillment at the end.  Set in the familiar locations of New Delhi, three best friends, are about to enter a new phase of their lives and are in the midst of planning while also feeling nostalgic. Fears of the wider world, various what-ifs, and a promise to always stay in touch bind this trio to remain the best friends wherever they are. Sana and Ashish form their own coterie within this trio. Beloved by all and admired for the love they share, the couple seems to just know that they shall end up together, despite the long distance but also fearing the changes they shall now have to face.  All goes well for Sana in the new world she has ju...

  In the age of the internet and the ever-increasing influence of social media in our lives, every once in a while the reader in me finds herself picking up a book that was unsurprisingly recommended to me through "Tik-Tok" exported reels. She goes to a bookstore with utter and all-embracing faith in the opinion of an individual living hundreds of miles away and usually, it ends badly for her.  The Secret History is a well-known celebrity on the internet which, unfortunately, did end badly for me. It starts off with the narrator Richard Pappin describing the one and the only story he can ever tell- the story of how Bunny got murdered. When Richard lands in Vermont, a thickly forested State in the northeastern United States, his attention is caught by a group of eccentric individuals obsessed with Greek and the riches of their respective families. Soon our narrator finds himself lying his way to become a part of something that ultimately leads him to be partly responsible for ...

  A reading slump often plagues one's life numerous times and a catchy title with a beautiful cover as this book is probably one that gets you out of it. A book reader unknowingly (knowingly for that matter) always has certain standards to judge a book and obviously, Sally Rooney set those for me. And to my sheer surprise (and extreme joy) Coco Mellors has done a brilliant job with her writing and characters. Cleo and Frank are funnily, two people who had similar experiences as children mostly characterized by absent parents and a traumatizing childhood but they are different in age and behavior. One would say age is just a number, but when Cleo, a British artist, marries Frank who is twenty years older than her and a man of success, things take a turn for the bad. I have to be honest, you really have to put some stereotypical notions on your side table as you turn the pages of the book. The story brings out the characters in Cleo and Frank's life and the tumultuous consequence...