Embedded within Indian ethos, caste is the idea that people (defined by their social positions) are of four types—scholarly-priestly (Brahmins), warriorhood (Kshatriyas), trade and commerce (Vaishyas), and menial jobs (Shudras)—and these are fixed by birth, with no class and social mobility available, especially to the last group. This is no abstract concept; it takes very real form in actual practices and institutions that continue to persist in present times. The so-called lower castes live a life of humiliation normalized with practices of bonded labour and untouchability.
Anyone who has enjoyed learning a second language knows how productive the exchange between a first and second language can be. Yoko Tawada has published fiction and nonfiction in Japanese and German and demonstrates this principle more than most, having moved to Germany as an adult in 1982. She positions herself not as an immigrant author, but as “exophonic”, referring more generally to “existing outside of one’s mother tongue.”
A collage of epigraphs make up the first few pages of The Elsewhereans. Each subsequent chapter is heralded by a series of locations, dates, photographs, and quotes—some perhaps falsified. Jeet Thayil’s newest work is exactly what its subtitle—“A Documentary Novel”—claims: a partially-fictional documentation of Thayil’s family history, recorded scrapbook-style in bits and pieces. Dedicated to his late mother, who passed away earlier this year, The Elsewhereans reads as an attempt to capture forever the spirits and lives of his family in a single fluid location, to bind them in the pages of a novel’s created home.
How did Tokyo—Japan’s capital, global city, tourist hotspot and financial center—get to where it is today? Tokyo—or then, Edo—had a rather unglamorous start, as a backwater on Japan’s eastern coast before Tokugawa decided to make it his de facto capital.
Chinese bronzes produced from the latter part of the Song dynasty (12th-13th century) through the end of the Qing dynasty (early 20th century) have long been underappreciated and under-researched. The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s fine catalogue, Recasting the Past: The Art of Chinese Bronzes, 1100-1900 (accompanying the exhibition of the same name running through September 2025), authored by the exhibition’s curator Pengliang Lu, goes a long way to changing this situation.
Though the Tamil freedom fighter and writer, CS Chellapa, was initially influenced by the energy and zeal of Bhagat Singh’s anarchical resistance to the British Empire, he grew increasingly enamoured by the non-violent, subtle resistance of Mahatma Gandhi. It’s a seismic shift from Singh to Gandhi, one that many in India adopted pre-independence. Yet it is precisely the tension between these two vastly different forms of resistance that forms much of the meat of Vaadivaasal: The Arena, a novella published in Tamil in 1949, now revitalised in graphic novel form under the careful script of Booker-nominated Perumal Murugan and the harsh, brutal illustrations of Appupen.
This epic story centres on an irresistible premise: is the main character “Her Royal Highness, The Begum of Oudh, Shehzadi Wilayat Mahal, Heir to the Last King of Oudh Begum Hazrat Mahal and Wajid Ali Shah” … or just plain old “Mrs Butt”? Satisfyingly, even the latter more prosaic option “Mrs Butt”—horse-loving wife of an academic—opens a Pandora’s box linked to the 1951 assassination of Liaquat Ali Khan, the first prime minister of Pakistan.
Nine years in the making, Jemimah Wei’s debut novel is a complicated story of two sisters who found and lost each other amidst the busy, urban, competitive island of Singapore. It provides a glimpse of Singapore without the glitz and glamour, a Singapore in which the expectation of excellence drives a wedge through even the strongest bonds of sisterhood.
Izumi lost her husband and her job. Now she spends her time doing craft projects like sewing handmade stuffed animals. She has come to realize that she spent 20 years acting the role of “successful woman”.
The Chao Phraya river, which runs through Bangkok, is the subject of Michael Hurley’s Waterways of Bangkok: Memories, Landscape and Twilights. An ethnographical study of the river, the book portrays not just the river itself, but Bangkok’s relationship with it. Split into five chapters—origins, loss, erasure, belonging and trajectory—the book argues that the Chao Phraya is not just a river, but rather the “binding thread of the Thai heartland, the realm of a traditional way of life, and also enshrined in the state-promoted Thai national story.”
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