Malvika Singh
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Some thrillers begin with a scream. What I Did begins with something far more unsettling – a woman standing in an airport, luggage in hand, trying very hard to look like she isn’t running away.
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It has been almost four weeks since school reopened after the summer vacations, and what a month it has been: a month of two seasons, really, stitched together by one very confused sky.
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Some books find you exactly when you need them. Virginia Axline’s Dibs in Search of Self is the quiet, luminous account of a withdrawn little boy who slowly unfolds through play therapy it reached somewhere deep.
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A cancer diagnosis shakes the patient as well as their family to the core. With my mother’s diagnosis, we are devastated but we will fight.
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The carton arrived the way good things always do here in Mumbai: sweating slightly, a little battered at the corners, smelling of somewhere else. I knew what it was before I opened it. You always know. There is a particular hush that falls over a house when the year’s first mangoes from your own farm…
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We moved to Mumbai at the beginning of monsoon season. The city arrived in my life already drenched — and slowly, through rain and books and Little Miss’s deeply held opinions about puddles, it is beginning to feel like home.
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Three monsoon moods, three books, three cups of chai. A reading pairing post for Mumbai’s grey, rainy afternoons.