Half a year ago, I had a conversation with a friend.

We were at a cozy Taco place at the main shopping street in Vienna, enjoying plates of sizzling food. I remember that it was a Friday and I’d just come from work, psyched at the prospect of a relaxing weekend. Maybe it was the balmy weather or just the fact that I could finally stretch out my legs, but I felt unusually chatty.

As a second generation Austrian with Indian roots, I’m used to straddling cultures. I know what to say,but more than that, what not to say. …

Nomadland has been called a masterful, visually arresting feature that spins poetry out of the everyday life of an average woman. In keeping with Chloe Zhao’s creative vision for her films so far (Songs My Brothers Taught Me,The Rider) viewers are treated to a dreamscape of vast deserts, lush woodlands and breathtaking mountainsides that succeeds as an homage to the open road. The Oscar nomination in the category for ‘Best Cinematography’ is definitely earned.

A New Hero

When Sam Wilson/Falcon holds a speech after giving up the shield, he says:’We need new heroes suited for the times we live in-courageous, righteous, the best in all of us’. Ever since that moment, many have anticipated the time when the first Afro-American superhero would switch out his wings for the iconic shield.

But the words spoken run a lot deeper. They are a clear nod to the fact that heroes arise in times of profound crisis. After the Blip, the fallout occasioned by Thanos snapping his fingers in Avengers:Infinity War was significant. …

When Sam Wilson/Falcon stops in his tracks after being hailed as ‘Black Falcon’, all hell breaks loose. Not on screen-here, the ribbing of the superhero with the trademark mechanical wings (‘So are you Black kid then?’) provides comic relief. Yet, despite the illusory ‘Bazinga’ all Sheldon Cooper fans must have shouted internally after that diss, the sentiment behind those words remains hard-hitting.

Dubbed as ‘social commentary’ by its writers, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier delivers on said promise in its second episode. By calling out the naming practices of the comics industry (ex. ‘Black’ Lightning, ‘Black’ Panther, or ‘Black’…

It is rare that a story on fears, ranging from the climate crisis to the rise of right-wing nationalism, ends up being a harbinger for hope.

But that is exactly what Jenny Offill’s Weather is.

Formally a story about the everyday worries and concerns of a mother, daughter, wife and sister, Weather primarily deals with the uncertainty of the times we live in.

Lizzie, the previously mentioned protagonist, is a librarian who takes on a second job answering the queries of people tuning in to her mentor’s climate podcast. The questions are both absurd (‘Do angels sleep?’) as well as…

In his controversial classic Lady Chatterley’s Lover, D.H. Lawrence wrote: ‘We need to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.’ Lily King seems to agree. Known for writing insightful, emotionally piercing fiction, in Writers & Lovers, she returns to the stage with a follow-your-dream-story that moves from debilitating grief to blinding success.

Casey Peabody, the 31-year-old narrator, is a down-at-luck aspiring writer, mired in student debt and stuck in a dead-end job as a waitress. At the onset of the novel, we find her struggling with the death of her mother and crippled by self-doubt over the worth of…

There is nothing as comforting as strolling through streets and avenues, golden sunshine warming our skin. As the burst of colours that are budding tulips and daffodils herald the return of Spring, we rejoice. No more coming home from work in the dark. No more thick scarves and padded coats. No more slipping on sludge and ice. As animals awaken and fresh rain falls, the very air seems suffused with possibility.

These days, that silent wonder at a re-awakening world is doubly precious.

In honour of that sense of rejuvenation, here are eight books to help lift your spirits this…

In Kerala, I used to catch fireflies. Creeping down the staircase at night, I’d stop at the windows. The tiny pin-pricks of light caught on window-sills let the darkness live. It was magical, that perfectly illuminated silence.

Careful not to crush them, I’d cup the fireflies in my palm, forming a loose fist. The glint that escaped was not unlike the glow in the picture above, one I took because it seemed to reflect my own wonder at all the light this world seems to hold.

Watching a match flare up in utter darkness and seeing bluebottles fry themselves to…