The subjects wander - calm, strategy, food, poetry, the human condition - but they're all the same instinct: notice the pattern, then say it plainly, ideally with a joke.
A field guide for imperfect people negotiating with chaos. Politely. With snacks.
Not a manifesto from an enlightened monk who wakes at 4 a.m. to chant on a mountain. A field guide from a man who overthinks emails, occasionally doomscrolls, and maintains that coffee is a personality trait. It won't eliminate the chaos. It'll teach you to negotiate with it.
The unauthorised MBA of being human.
Everything business school teaches you about strategy, quietly smuggled into the decisions you actually make - what to cook, when to quit, how to argue, whom to trust. No case studies about airlines. Just the frameworks you were using anyway, finally named.
A love letter to a cuisine the rest of the country keeps forgetting.
Unapologetically partial, occasionally indignant, and hungry throughout. Part food writing, part cultural defence, part personal history - a vibrant, funny, deeply biased tour of Odia food by someone with no intention of pretending to be objective.
Poems for the restless and the slightly lost.
A collection of poetry and small worlds - the quieter, stranger register of the same mind that builds data centres and argues about hydrogen pricing. Proof that the world-building doesn't stop when the spreadsheets close.
On staying human while the machines get interesting.
Reflections and narratives about people - tenderness, absurdity, resilience - set against an era determined to automate all three. Less a warning about technology than a reminder of what it's supposed to be for.
The bias travels south.
Bangalore eats like it lives - impatiently, emotionally, and usually stuck in traffic. It eats dosa with moral authority, biryani with office-wide urgency, filter coffee with conviction, and bakery puffs "just in case." It also eats Korean barbecue, Vietnamese pho, Odia dahi bara, Andhra meals, Kerala parotta, military hotel mutton, startup salads, craft beer, and app-delivered regret. This is a funny, affectionate, mildly opinionated journey through the city's appetite - from darshinis to microbreweries, temple prasadam to Friday biryani brigades, Iyengar bakeries to cloud kitchens. It is about food, yes. But also migration, memory, traffic, homesickness, and ambition. For anyone who has ever loved Bangalore, fought Bangalore, or forgiven Bangalore after one good meal.
A life arranged correctly. A bookshop that refuses efficiency. An inheritance that changes the question.
Aniruddha Patnaik has a functioning life in Mumbai - a job designing apps that ask people how they feel, and an existence arranged at the recommended intervals. Then a man he never met dies in a lane in Goa and leaves him Palavras, a bookshop in the ochre light of Fontainhas. Kept alive by a manager who talks to the stock, a woman who unsettles Ani more than he'll admit, and books the previous owner refused to sell, it draws him into a life he never chose but keeps not leaving. Witty, warm, and quietly devastating, this is a novel about appetite - for music, food, and other people's complexity - and what happens when a man living correctly is left somewhere long enough to notice.
The 112 meditation methods of the Vigyan Bhairav Tantra - never named, never taught, only lived.
A unique travelogue spanning continents, with the 112 meditation methods of the Vigyan Bhairav Tantra - the oldest instructions for being alive - woven invisibly through every chapter. Never named. Never taught. Only lived. A journey through the outer world that quietly becomes an exploration of stillness, attention, and what it means to be fully alive.
India goes to Mars. Five astronauts go with it. One carries a secret older than civilisation.
India - the country that sent a spacecraft to Mars for less than the budget of a Hollywood film about Mars - decides to send actual humans there and bring them back. Commander Arjun Krishnamurthy leads a crew of five through twenty months of radiation storms, dust storms, a fuel crisis, and coffee that never improves. They discover evidence of ancient life on Mars, but the mission's greatest discovery is within the crew: one of them carries a secret older than civilisation. Grounded in real science and told with the warm wit of a country that breaks coconuts before rocket launches, this is a novel about leaving home, doing the impossible on an insufficient budget, and discovering that the universe is far less lonely than it pretends to be.
Data-protection law, made readable by someone who resents that it wasn't already.
Quantum computing, taught without the customary intimidation.
A frequency-locked city of immortals has initiated a planetary Hard Reset.
The ecological crisis is also a crisis of language and imagination.
An ancient acoustic network beneath the ocean could trigger a global tectonic catastrophe.