Life & Style

Bahrisons Booksellers, the now-iconic bookstore that first opened in New Delhi’s Khan Market in 1953, has marked its entry into the south with its first store in Hyderabad. Aashna Malhotra, a third generation member of the founding family, takes in the sight of nearly five lakh books at the store in Jubilee Hills that opened on January 14, and says, “More books will be arriving soon.”

An extensive curation of popular titles across categories — crime thrillers, literary fiction, non-fiction and poetry greets visitors. Aashna explains that these titles have been curated with an understanding of customers’ preferences in their stores in other cities. The curation is likely to change as the founders and the staff gauge the reading preferences of Hyderabad.

The history of this bookstore has its roots in India’s Partition in 1947. Balraj Bahri Malhotra, a 19-year-old, fled Malakwal with his family and found refuge in a camp in New Delhi. A few years later, in 1953, he founded Bahrisons Booksellers. Chronicle of a Bookstore, written by his son Anuj Bahri and granddaughter Aanchal Malhotra, offers curious readers a brief history of the store and how the family built the legacy one book at a time.

A glimpse of the Hyderabad store of Bahrisons Booksellers
| Photo Credit:
Sangeetha Devi

Aashna, Anuj Bahri’s daughter and Aanchal’s sister, recalls, “My grandfather was at the bookstore until his final days. Since the initial years, he followed the practice of noting down titles requested by customers in a book. During the lunch break, he would venture out to buy these books for customers. In all our stores, we maintain a book to keep track of customer requests. A keen engagement with customers helps us retain the ethos of a family-run independent bookstore even as the business grows.”

Bahrisons has stores in New Delhi, Noida, Gurgaon, Kolkata, Dehradun, and Indore and is eyeing expansion in the near future. Shelfeebooks, their partner brand of bookstores, caters to school and college-going readers.

Over the years, independent bookstores such as AA Husain & Co, Gangarams and more recently Walden closed down in Hyderabad. Post pandemic, new bookstores such as Luna Books and Off The Shelf attract readers alongside seasoned players such as Akshara Books and M.R. Book Centre, among others.

Aashna is pleased with the warm reception to the store by eager customers who have been visiting the store. At Bahrisons, she says the intent is to neither remain too old school nor be an experiential luxury bookstore: “The design of our store is non-flashy. My father, with the help of an architect, planned the layouts for all our stores such that the books are in focus.” Arched wooden shelves are designed such that despite the large collection of books, the store does not appear cluttered.

A room stocks classics for those who seek collector’s editions, another is dedicated to coffee table books, and a large room stocks books on spirituality, philosophy, business, economics and a range of titles for children and young adults. The store has a limited selection of Hindi and Telugu titles to begin with, and hopes to expand this section soon.

Of late, despite the increased conversation about diminishing attention spans and addiction to digital screens, literary festivals and the annual Hyderabad book fair have consistently drawn enviable footfalls. For a bookstore, Aashna says it’s pivotal to keep the curation dynamic to offer something new for frequent visitors. “Around 10 to 15 years ago, we wondered if reading habits were going to go completely digital. However, we noticed how different formats co-exist. When people like something they have read on an e-reader or listened to as an audio book, they want to own a physical copy.”

She adds that the curation changes according to the customer profile in each of their stores. Their oldest store in Khan Market leans towards history, politics and international relations given its proximity to several foreign embassies. The Gurgaon store stocks Indian and international fiction and classics, aligning with readers’ preferences. “This is possible because members of our staff interact with customers and not mere managers,” says Aashna. She mentions how her parents are at the Khan Market store on a daily basis and glad to interact with customers.

This hands-on approach and value additions in the form of hosting conversations with authors at the stores and stocking copies signed by the authors, she says, gives bookstores an edge over online sellers. Bahrisons Hyderabad shares its space with Blue Tokai Coffee Roasters cafe at the Bungalow, making it feasible to host author meets in the near future. 

Bahrisons also hosts podcasts with authors in video and audio format, available on YouTube and on popular audio podcast platforms.

(Bahrisons Booksellers is at the Bungalow, Plot no. 521, Road no.27, Aditya Enclave, Venkatagiri, Jubilee Hills, Hyderabad)

Published – January 17, 2026 03:00 pm IST

Those small, misshapen apples you hate seeing at the supermarket? Turns out, you can blame bees — or the lack of the tiny, buzzy creatures — for them. New research from the U.S. and Europe has found that the number and variety of bees affect the quality, size, and flavour of apples.

Of course, apple farmers have suspected as much for years. In Himachal Pradesh, Davinder Thakur, 34, an organic apple farmer from Kullu Valley, remembers his grandfather talking about a time when the region only had the local bee species (Apis cerana or Asian honey bee). Their hives were kept in the hollowed-out trunks of old trees and custom-built areas within the walls of houses; the bees were loved and treated like a part of the family. And the apple crop was bountiful every year.

Davinder Thakur’s grandfather taught him the local ways of rearing bees
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Then, a large-scale viral colony collapse in the 1960s prompted the European bee (Apis mellifera or western honey bee) to be introduced to India. This meant the local bees had a tough time re-establishing themselves. Besides competition from the western import, deforestation, an increased use of pesticides, and climate change impacted the bee population. So much so that many farmers now have to rent bee boxes to pollinate their orchards and farms. (The Apis mellifera isn’t always easy to maintain, as it succumbs easily to local predators and parasites, and also needs a lot of flora to feed from — something the region’s seasonal availability cannot provide.)

Thakur was eight when his grandfather taught him the local ways of rearing bees. Today, he has more than 100 colonies of the Asian honey bee in boxes. And he is trying to improve his region’s lack. “I have been training Himachali farmers for the past 10 years on how to rear the local bee because of its resilience and resistance to climate change [and parasites], which is a major problem in the mountains,” he says.

Bee boxes at Davinder Thakur’s orchard
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

His organisation, Mountain Honey Bee, offers 25-day workshops that are free of charge (the next is in April). “Having trained almost 200 farmers, it is obvious how badly the area is in need of pollinator species,” he states, adding that farmers have noticed how, within just a few years of improving the local bee population, apple produce always doubles.

The unlikely bee champion

Bees are critical wildlife. Both honey bees and wild bees (think bumble bees, mason bees) are key pollinators. And when over three-quarters of all crop plants in India rely on insects and animals for pollination, it should worry us that bee conservation isn’t making the headlines as much as tigers and rhinos.

Honey bee on the way side in Bhubaneswar.
| Photo Credit:
Biswaranjan Rout

It’s still not too late. As we refine our new year resolutions, we can also take the time to think about biodiversity. Unlike the passive role many of us take in helping 300-kg tigers and 2,000-kg rhinos — signing online petitions, for one — you can save these tiny 0.1 gram ‘buzzers’ from wherever you are. You just need a box and some know-how. Or a few native flowering plants on your balcony.

Speaking to Bengaluru-based Apoorva B.V., 40, the proclaimed ‘Bee Man of India’, you get the feeling one might even be able to build relationships with them. “Bees are special creatures. They have a very developed sense of smell as well as memory, and can recognise human faces,” he says. There is a famous story of the Kondha tribe from Odisha using tamed bees to fight against the British in 1842.

Apoorva B.V. started with two beehives in his bedroom
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Apoorva gave up engineering 18 years ago to turn beekeeper. He started with two beehives in his bedroom, which he kept beside his open window, and now keeps 600 colonies and runs a multi-crore honey business — besides training aspiring urban beekeepers and tribal communities on ethical beekeeping, and saving hundreds of colonies a day, all for free. “I get around 200 phone calls a day from people wanting a beehive removed. I spend up to 8 minutes per call explaining to them how we can live peacefully with bees,” he says, explaining that in countries such as Australia, you can be jailed for killing a bee colony. “Comparatively, up to 500 colonies are exterminated in urban Bengaluru every day. It is high time bees, and all insect pollinators, are put either under the Environmental Protection Act or the Wildlife Act and be protected.”

A local farmer shows a bee hive frame in his honey farm in central Kashmir.
| Photo Credit:
Imran Nissar

His workshops are always full, and the next one is scheduled for February 8, at his farm on Magudi Road in Bettahalli. “The workshops mostly have 30-somethings, and parents who want to introduce their children to nature. Many schools, especially alternative ones, are participating too, like The Valley School and Vidyakshetra,” he says. “Post the COVID-19 pandemic, there’s been a spike with people looking at it as a stressbuster. Beekeeping needs mindfulness; you have to be calm when interacting with bees. They also get a dopamine hit, watching combs being built, and when they harvest honey. I’m seeing people setting up bee boxes on their balconies, and asking apartment complex societies to do it in their common areas.”

“Bees scare people, just like snakes [or street dogs]. Until we educate them, or people like me sensitise them, they will not be able to overcome it. Children are the best to teach this kind of empathy to. They do not come with any prior ‘fear programming’.”Apoorva B.V.Bengaluru’s Bee Man

Apoorva B.V. introducing bees to children at one of his workshops
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Bee trails and more

Another bee champion is Under The Mango Tree (UTMT). Founded in 2009, the organisation helps marginal farmers increase yield through sustainable practices such as beekeeping. At a time when States such as Karnataka have farmers hand-pollinating tomato and chilli plants, hiring local labour to do a job that a few bees can do in just one morning, such initiatives are key.

“Over the last decade, UTMT Society has collected field-level data on how putting bees on farms can increase yields of vegetables such as gourds and tomatoes, most cash crops like cashew and mango, besides oilseeds, by anywhere from 30% to 60%,” says Sujana Krishnamoorthy, executive director of UTMT. “There is anecdotal evidence in [States such as] Madhya Pradesh on increased yields of mahua and chironji seeds from forests due to increased pollinator populations.”

Sujana Krishnamoorthy of UTMT
| Photo Credit:
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Krishnamoorthy has also discovered through her own research (still a work in progress, which will be published soon) that India’s native bees show high floral constancy — consistently foraging from the same flower species — which was earlier seen as a trait only present in the western honey bee. “This finding means that our native bees are better adapted to the needs of our farmers than non-natives [which are being supplied by the government],” she states.

Education can be pivotal. Despite India being home to four native species of honey bees — Apis cerana indica, Apis dorsata, Apis florea and Trigona — public understanding of their importance is limited. Krishnamoorthy is a supporter of beekeeping being taught in schools, especially rural schools where there is space and an inclination to take the training home. “It is an opportunity for children to learn where their food comes from, and get involved in [discussions on] ecology and biodiversity,” she says. “An example I know of an institution doing this is Bhopal’s Barkatullah University, with its bee trail.” Launched last year, on March 3, World Wildlife Day, it features stingless bee (Tetragonula iridipennis) colonies and educational displays. “Initiatives like this can help to create awareness about bees and get the public sensitive to them in their environment, instead of killing them with pesticides,” she says.

Kerala and Karnataka’s stingless campaign

According to data from UTMT, Ahmedabad has the highest number of urban beekeepers, primarily because most homes there have gardens. There has also been a large spike in the number of beekeeping workshops in New Delhi with the advent of Sunder Nursery.

A beekeeper in Cumbum, in Theni district.
| Photo Credit:
Karthikeyan G.

Many State governments, too, are doing their bit to promote apiculture. In Kerala, attempts are being made with stingless bees. These highly social insects thrive in the State’s Western Ghat biodiversity, rubber plantations (a constant source of food) and humid climate. “They are one of the most diverse groups, quiet, with small nests, and often go unnoticed,” says Vinita Gowda from the Indian Institutes of Science Education and Research (IISER), who researches indigenous bee species. “Planting pollen and nectar-rich flowers around you is a good start to support stingless and solitary bees, as is building bee hotels [structures that mimic natural cavities and hollows in wood]. Nesting sites of most bees are under threat, and the exercise of building a bee hotel meets multiple purposes — it spreads awareness in the community while supporting biodiversity.”

‘Planting pollen and nectar-rich flowers is a good start to support stingless and solitary bees’ says ,Vinita Gowda
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

In Karnataka, too, meliponiculture (stingless bee keeping) is picking up. In Dakshina Kannada, the Gramajanya Farmers’ Producer Company (FPC) has launched a ‘honey at every home’ initiative to promote it in urban areas — selling bee boxes with colonies, and also helping maintain them if bee enthusiasts need help. Mangaluru is the main focus, among other urban areas.

“We must see native bees as pets, not pests. Even in dense cities, people living in houses with balconies can keep bee boxes [stingless bees are ideal, after some training]. The bees will collect nectar from trees within a two-to-three-kilometre radius and return to your house. You’ll have a hobby, and they’ll help in pollination”Amit GodseBee Man of Pune

Amit Godse during a beehive relocation
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Government needs to buck up

With climate change becoming more pronounced, “being a farmer today is one of the most difficult livelihoods in our country — and yet, the most necessary”, says Peter Fernandes, a Goa-based beekeeper and pioneer of permaculture. Bees can’t be separated from this discussion. “We must make it clear to our leaders that we care about the environment and, more importantly, our food. Farmer groups and citizen movements, along with private research organisations like ATREE [Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment], need to come together to make their voices heard.”

Peter Fernandes with his bee hives in Goa
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Government attempts, at the moment, are lacking. Yes, the Khadi and Village Industries Commission (KVIC) distributes a large number of bee boxes across India, facilitates honey production, and helps rural households benefit economically.

But, as Krishnamoorthy shared with the Magazine some time ago, “Which farmer can spend ₹3 lakh to buy 50 boxes [a few years ago, a bee box cost ₹3,500 and the Mellifera cost another ₹3,000; prices have changed since]? Instead, give a small farmer ₹2,000 of support for boxes [UTMT’s cost ₹1,000] and training to transfer local bees from the wild and rear them, and you give them a low-cost way of adding to their yields through pollination and to produce honey.”

Apoorva tells me a story about the government sending the Apis mellifera to tribal regions in Chhattisgarh, where the people couldn’t take care of the bees because they are migratory. Medha Monteiro, a beekeeper of almost a decade and president of the Bardez Beekeepers Society (BBS) in Goa, says, “There wouldn’t be a need for our society if the KVIC or the National Bee Board did a competent job of teaching and equipping citizens with proper equipment.” Before joining BBS, she says farmers and urban beekeepers alike have reported issues with sub-standard bee boxes (made with poor-quality wood, and gaps between boards), missing queen bees, or insufficient combs.

Medha Monteiro, a beekeeper of almost a decade
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Genetically modified insects?

Though bees contribute to approximately 20% of total crop yield (according to a 2023 paper), we don’t have numbers for bee population loss. Gowda from IISER says, “There is unfortunately no long-term data in India on any insect, let alone bees. This is not a fault of funding, but a lack of interest and understanding of the importance of these creatures within the scientific community. However, we know from studies outside of India that chemicals have affected bees’ navigation, nesting and survival. It is the same as habitat loss.”

A new study by researchers at the University of Sussex and Rothamsted Research in the U.K. found that sites sprayed with NPKS (Nitrogen, Phosphorus, Potash, Sulphur)-based fertilisers halve bee populations. Strikingly, the research also found 95% greater pollinator abundance and 84% greater pollinator species richness in untreated plots.

So, it’s ironic that last October, the Union Cabinet, headed by Prime Minister Narendra Modi, approved ₹37,952.29 crore for farmer subsidies on Di Ammonium Phosphate (DAP) and NPKS-based fertilisers. Pushing the irony further is the Government of India’s initiative for beekeeping in 2025-2026 — a total outlay of ₹500 crore. This is a systemic problem and shows the inherent contradiction within the broader agricultural policy of the country.

Keenan D’Costa, has been keeping bees as a hobby at his home in Goa
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Meanwhile, another initiative could also cause equal damage. In the 2025-26 budget, the Department of Biotechnology (DBT) received an overall allocation of ₹3,446 crore (a 50% increase from the previous year) to support biotechnology startups, including genetically modified insects. Yes, you read that right.

India has guidelines for these insects, but the potential for unforeseen ecological consequences from their release is a major concern. “Even the effect of non-native insects is unpredictable and has been known to go rogue [like the cane toads introduced in Australia that killed native predators]. We have no idea how a genetically modified one will affect its environment,” says Gowda. They could lead to irreversible ecological disruptions by altering populations of pollinators, pests, and decomposers, which can have cascading effects on entire food webs.

A shift in perspective

One of the fundamental problems today is that India’s beekeeping policy is treated as a standalone livelihood sector, divorced from agricultural and environmental policy. Until the country integrates pollinator health into its core agricultural framework — by drastically reducing harmful pesticides, promoting ecological farming, and conserving natural habitats — other efforts will remain a palliative measure.

The most powerful action now is a shift in perspective, from seeing bees as just honey producers to recognising them as essential, vulnerable wildlife that sustain our food systems. By creating pockets of safety, food, and habitat, citizens can build a resilient network of sanctuaries that no single policy can achieve alone.

The writer is a permaculture farmer who believes eating right can save the planet.

Every winter, a small miracle takes place across the Indian sky. High above the snow peaks of the Himalayas, at altitudes where even planes struggle to breathe, flocks of bar-headed geese glide southward from the frozen lakes of Central Asia. They descend into the wetlands of India (the Ganga plains) honking softly as they rest on the waters that have awaited them since Vedic times. This is the hamsa of Indian imagination, the bird of Saraswati, the emblem of wisdom, purity, and transcendence.

The bar-headed goose (hansa) is a key cultural symbol of India, along with other waterfowl such as the sarus crane (krauncha), ruddy shelduck (chakravaka) and crane (baga, bagula). This list excludes the swan (raj-hansa), which is European, not Indian. But somewhere in the last two centuries, the Indian goose was eclipsed.

In colonial translations, it was transformed into a European swan, a bird that never flew over the Himalayas, never nested in Ladakh, never knew our monsoons. The goose carved in stone on temple walls was ignored and everyone paid attention to swans appearing next to Shakuntala, transforming her into the Greek Leda.

Europeanising the sun bird

The hansa is the Anser indicus. It was a hardy, intelligent migratory bird that embodied the rhythm of India’s seasons. It bred in Central Asia in the summer and through the monsoon, returning to India in winter, in time to eat the lotus fruit, following the same paths that traders, monks and, perhaps, even the Indo-Aryans once followed thousands of years ago. The Vedas speak of the hamsa as the “sun-bird”, the messenger of dawn, the soul that moves between the mortal and immortal realms. In the Upanishads, it becomes a metaphor for the liberated soul — the paramahamsa, one who rises above worldly waters.

In art and sculpture, friezes of 12th-century temples at Belur, Khajuraho, and Konark show the bird carved beside Saraswati, with a blunt beak, rounded body, and webbed feet. This was India’s own sacred bird — born of her rivers, not borrowed from Europe’s ponds.

When Europeans began translating Sanskrit in the 18th and 19th centuries, they encountered the word hansa. To them, it resembled the swan of their myths — the pure white bird form taken by Zeus to seduce Leda, or the swans of German folktales. So Saraswati’s companion was Europeanised and deemed more elegant than the ugly goose. The swan was like a ballet dancer; the goose was the squat Indian nautch girl.

A painting showing Brahma, the four-headed deity, with Saraswati in his lap, riding on his vahana, the hamsa.
| Photo Credit:
WikiCommons

The change seemed innocent, even poetic. But this mistranslation was not without consequence. Once the swan entered our art books and textbooks, the Indian goose vanished. Painters in British India, raised on European imagery, began to draw long-necked swans on temple posters. School books described Saraswati riding a swan. Even modern temples began installing swan imagery on signboards and calendars.

Over time, the bar-headed goose — once the bird of the Himalayas — was exiled from its own mythology. This was colonisation of imagination. We rejected the bird that actually flew over our skies in favour of one imported through colonial eyes. The swan became Sanskritised, while the goose was forgotten.

Erasing geography from faith

In the Sanskrit poem Hansa-sandesha (The Goose Messenger), Rama sends a hamsa to carry his message to Sita across the sky. She is equated with the lotus flower blooming through the monsoon waiting for the goose to arrive. By the time it does, the rains are over. It is autumn (śarad). The lotus has shed its petals and the fruit is ready for consumption. Saraswati is worshipped, and the season of knowledge begins. In poems such as these the rhythm of nature and the rhythm of myth were once one.

Modern education separates zoology from literature. Children are not told that Saraswati’s goose is among the most extraordinary creatures on earth. It flies over the Himalayas at heights above 25,000ft, where oxygen is one-third of normal levels. Scientists still marvel at its lungs and blood chemistry. It flies at night, in formation, gliding on thin air, carrying no luggage except memory. Its annual journey, from the salt lakes of Tibet to the flooded plains of India, has continued unbroken for millennia. To call the hansa a swan is to erase geography from faith.

The orthodox Hindu who insists on painting Saraswati on a swan repeats a colonial error, mistaking imported iconography for authenticity. But the temples tell a different story. On their 800-year-old walls, the hamsa looks like what it truly is — a goose, not a swan.

Devdutt Pattanaik is the author of 50 books on mythology, art and culture.

Published – January 17, 2026 02:08 pm IST

Museums are not merely places; they are stories woven across time and land. The newly inaugurated Zayed National Museum in Abu Dhabi proves this as its five tapering falcon wings rise dramatically above the skyline. Anchored inside is a 60-foot boat with a prow rising to 11 feet — the very vessel I once encountered in a school textbook on the Indus Valley Civilisation. Reconstructed with help from university scholars, researchers and boatmen from Kerala, using wood, coir and bitumen, the Magan boat is a Bronze Age marvel. It links this desert nation to Meluhha, the maritime trading port of the Indus Valley Civilisation.

Boats like these once carried copper across the Arabian Sea to ports on India’s western coast 3,000-4,000 years ago. Without a nail, bolt or screw, revived from engraved drawings and materials described in cuneiform writing on ancient tablets, the boat did a two-day sea trial in the Arabian Gulf, sailing 50 nautical miles, before being anchored at the museum.

The Magan boat

More than a land of petroleum

The museum positions itself as a place where the world and civilisation are interpreted through an Arab lens. “The history here is from the perspective of the United Arab Emirates. It is not the other way around. It is not from a British perspective,” says Mohamed Khalifa Al Mubarak, Chairman of the Department of Culture and Tourism, Abu Dhabi.

The open air gallery leading to the museum

With a massive 30-metre faceted mound, tipping the hat to the desert topography, the museum has been designed by British architect Norman Foster. The wingtips function as thermal chimneys, creating cooling air currents that pull out warm air from the building. The architects call them ‘Canadian vents’; Khalifa Al Mubarak calls them ‘barjeel’, an ancient wind-tower design that has long kept homes and public spaces cool across the region.

“The Zayed National Museum tells the unfolding story of the land and its people. It demonstrates the unifying power of our history and culture, providing a space where citizens, residents and visitors can see themselves reflected in the story of our people and our land. Bridging past, present and future, it will help shape how we understand the UAE’s evolving cultural narrative.”Mohamed Khalifa Al MubarakChairman of the Department of Culture and Tourism, Abu Dhabi

Walking through the space, I realise that museums are not just about contested objects; they are a culture speaking to itself, a collective memory that interprets the world and repositions our place within it. Here, an old notion dissolves — the idea of the UAE as merely a land of petroleum, sand dunes, date palms, sea and shopping malls, stripped of history. Instead, it evokes awe as it lays out a tapestry linking oasis, horses, coffee pots, dates, water infrastructure, and falcons, tracing the land’s story from the palaeolithical, pre-Islamic era to the modern one. “One of the surprises for me was finding a Bronze Era sword inside a burial mound in Al Ain. It was oxidised, but we learnt that people were buried with their personal goods. The restored sword showed the warrior mentality of the people,” Khalifa Al Mubarak says during the tour. It is this command of narrative that shapes the visitor experience.

A child stands inside the Zayed National Museum in Abu Dhabi
| Photo Credit:
AFP

Celebrating the UAE

The museum houses 1,500 objects, sourced from all seven emirates, within six permanent galleries, combining archaeological artefacts, historic objects, audiovisual and sensory experiences, and contemporary installations and reconstructions. It also pays tribute to the life and times of Shaikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan, founding father of the UAE. The tour begins with the 600-metre outdoor Al Masar Garden, featuring a ghaf (Persian mesquite) tree from one of his residences. Inside, replicas of horses have been recreated from breeds descended from those he rode, and a replica of his 1966 Chrysler Newport and his camel stick accompany the exhibits.

Women walk inside the Zayed National Museum in Abu Dhabi.
| Photo Credit:
AFP

The narrative celebrates the nation’s enduring bond with falcons too. “Falcons were key to survival as they helped hunt during difficult times. They are our family,” says the curator of a gallery depicting a land that is part desert, part sea and part urban carnival. One diorama illustrates the ancient Tethys Sea and the formation of fossil fuels, represented through glass micro-organisms symbolising the country’s modern wealth. Another display presents one of the oldest known pearls, an 8,000-year-old find discovered in 2017 on Marawah Island, linking pearl-diving to the country’s long history.

Statuery featuring falcons

The cultural district

Built on Saadiyat Island, the museum joins a constellation of institutions reshaping the UAE’s cultural landscape. It is at walking distance from the Louvre Abu Dhabi, on an artificial island crowned by a steel dome visible from space, which houses artefacts ranging from Renaissance paintings to bronzes from Tamil Nadu. The Guggenheim Abu Dhabi is under construction, while the Natural History Museum Abu Dhabi currently hosts Lucy, the 3.2-million-year-old skeleton considered the mother of humanity, on loan from Ethiopia.

A burial mound

By bringing these intertwined human narratives together, Abu Dhabi is forging a new visual history of the country — one in which the Zayed National Museum asserts its suzerainty over culture and our collective human heritage.

Published – January 17, 2026 02:01 pm IST

Saai
| Photo Credit: Saai

Everyone, it seems, is angling for an invite to the cottage. Not a real one, but the cottage, the one that has become Internet shorthand for queer romance done right. If you have been anywhere near pop culture lately, you know exactly what I mean. And even if you have not watched Heated Rivalry — which, to be clear, is not officially streaming in India — the idea of the cottage has travelled faster than any platform ever could.

Online, queer men in the US have been joking about it with a mix of envy and resignation. Why do fictional queer men get lakeside retreats and long silences heavy with meaning, while real life mostly offers hotel rooms with thin walls and a carefully rehearsed exit plan? It is funny, bleak, and accurate enough to sting. That contrast — between fantasy and lived experience — is exactly why Heated Rivalry has landed the way it has, and why readers across the world are now flocking to the books.

At the heart of it all are Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov, rival hockey players whose relationship unfolds over nearly a decade of secrecy and denial. Their story belongs to Rachel Reid’s Game Changers, which now spans six instalments. Each instalment focusses on a different couple within the same professional hockey ecosystem, but Heated Rivalry — the second book — has become the emotional centre of gravity.

Like many queer men, they hide in plain sight, terrified of being seen. The cottage, when it appears in the book, is not a grand romantic flourish so much as relief. Rachel writes it as a place where meals are shared, silences are allowed, and romance starts feeling suspiciously like a choice.

That detail has taken on a life of its own as Heated Rivalry has gone spectacularly viral. What began as a relatively small Canadian adaptation has since crossed into America and then exploded across Instagram and group chats everywhere.

Readers in India have done what readers always do — they have gone back to the source material. Paperbacks are being ordered, e-books devoured, and recommendations passed along with urgency. Conveniently, there is more on the way: Rachel’s next novel, Unrivaled, is slated for release in September.

Much of this resurgence has been driven by women readers, who speak about the books with a mix of delight and vindication. “Gay sex is hot,” one woman told me, unapologetically, “but it’s hot because it’s honest. There’s no performance for the female gaze.”

A colleague who has been devouring Heated Rivalry had read steamy novels before. “This was different.” she laughed. “It’s so enthralling because things just… happen. The relationship evolves, and before you know it, they’re back in each other’s orbit again. There aren’t these huge artificial breaks.” She admitted she’d tried to introspect why she loved it so much. “Maybe it’s because it’s weirdly wholesome? It’s written so well. The character arcs are genuinely great.”

Heated Rivalry sits squarely within the romance genre’s HEA/HFN tradition — Happily Ever After, or at the very least, Happy For Now. There is no tragic reckoning, no moral price paid for loving too openly. Which matters, because for decades gay romance on screen has been beautiful but fatalistic.

This one doesn’t.

“I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop,” a gay acquaintance told me. “I thought it would end the usual way — fear, society, something ruining it.” He laughed. “But it didn’t.”

“Which is precisely why Heated Rivalry works,” he added. “It doesn’t mirror reality. It offers a version of gay romance that’s improbably patient — not how things usually are, but how many of us wish they could be.”

I’ll admit, as a gay man, that hockey romance — or hockey smut, as the internet gleefully insists on calling it — isn’t quite my natural habitat. Lived experience is far more likely to involve hotel rooms booked by the hour, stairwells with one flickering bulb, or nightclub washrooms where inhibitions drop faster than leather trousers. Which is precisely why the fantasy works.

The cottage, then, lingers not just as a setting, but as a promise. And in a cultural moment that keeps insisting romance is dead, it’s no wonder everyone wants the invite.

A fortnightly guide to love in the age of bare minimum

Published – January 16, 2026 07:24 pm IST

When I first interviewed Pinakin Patel for a magazine profile almost two decades ago, he had already left Mumbai for Alibaug, back then a sleepy, rural landscape where few from the big city ventured. Electricity was patchy, so was Internet connectivity. Back then, Pinakin was considered an iconoclast (“I’m always 10 or 20 years ahead of my times,” he quips). Today he’s considered a visionary, prescient enough to see a future where urban Indians want a slice of village life.

This ability to foresee what will come has shaped the self-trained architect, interior designer, fashion designer, art collector, and all-around aesthete’s prolific career. It’s no wonder then that the 70-year old is now the subject of an exhibition marking 50 years of his practice.

All-around aesthete Pinakin Patel 

Titled The Turning Point, the exhibition is an expansive survey of Pinakin’s work, curated by Pavitra Rajaram, creative director of Nilaaya Anthology, and her Mumbai-based team. It is the first time an interior designer has been accorded a retrospective of this nature. “I feel like I’m getting married again,” he laughs. “The engagement is over, now comes the main event.”

The show features 11 signature designs, including the Jhoola Bed, Brahmaputra Dining Table, and Jali Bar, alongside 19 decorative objects and artworks from Pinakin’s personal collection. “Pinakin’s work has shaped design in India for over five decades, and this retrospective was conceived as a tribute to that enduring legacy,” says Rajaram. “His ability to seamlessly blend tradition with modernity, along with his deep connection to materials and nature, and the way his philosophy of living has influenced his design — the why informing the what — makes his journey one we wanted to share.”

Pavitra Rajaram, creative director of Nilaaya Anthology
| Photo Credit:
Aditya Sinha

It also includes works by the late Dashrath Patel — artist, designer, and mentor to Pinakin — who played a key role in founding the National Institute of Design. A limited-edition book and a short film will follow in the coming months, and select works will be auctioned by Mumbai auction house Pundoles at the end of March.

‘A student in every field I entered’

On a sunny morning in his 7,000 sq.ft. central Mumbai home, Pinakin sits amid art, antiquities, and books accumulated over decades. Reflecting on the retrospective, he admits he was “genuinely surprised”. Having volunteered for years at institutions such as the National Gallery of Modern Art (NGMA) and other nonprofits, he assumed any such recognition would come from a museum or government body. Instead, the initiative came from the private sector — a shift he finds telling.

“The world has changed,” he says. “Cultural responsibility has moved. Governments come and go. Corporates, at least the good ones, know what they want and how to do it.” He points out that over a hundred people are involved in the exhibition, working with notable efficiency. “It’s actually delightful.”

Across five decades, one constant has been Pinakin’s refusal to see himself as an expert. With no formal training in design, curiosity has always mattered more than mastery. “I was a student in every field I entered,” he says. Trained initially as a chemist to join the family business, he pivoted in 1984 when he opened Et Cetera, a shop selling curios and crafts. “I didn’t know what more I would add to it, hence the name,” he says. At the time, India had no organised lifestyle retail. The shop became his classroom.

The Jhoola Bed, one of Pinakin’s signature designs
| Photo Credit:
Aditya Sinha

It was there that a client, Shailaja Jhangiani, asked if he did interiors. “I didn’t even know what interior design meant,” he admits, declining the job. She left her card anyway. Around the same time, architect Kiran Patki began sourcing accessories from him for ITC hotel projects, including ITC Windsor Manor and Bukhara. In an era before easy access to suppliers, Pinakin travelled across India’s craft centres, sourcing antique copper and brass vessels discarded as stainless steel and glass cookware gained popularity. “All those bartans you see at Bukhara, I sourced them,” he says.

Buoyed by this experience, he returned to Jhangiani, who gave him a copy of a magazine which featured the American fashion designer Bill Blass’ home and asked him to recreate it. “Imitation is how you learn,” he says. “The danger is getting stuck there.”

Master of all

Architecture followed just as unexpectedly. While working on interiors for industrialist Rahul Bajaj’s family in Pune, Pinakin suggested hiring an architect. Bajaj refused. “You do it,” he said. That 1987 commission became Pinakin’s first architectural project. Since then, he has designed homes for clients including Radhe Shyam Agarwal, co-founder of Emami Group; the Bhartias, the industrialist family from Delhi; Harsh and Sanjiv Goenka (of RPG and RSPG Groups, respectively); the Nopany industrialist family, and actor Shabana Azmi and lyricist-screenwriter Javed Akhtar. He has also built institutions such as the Kolkata Centre for Creativity.

The minimalist Prive Villa in Alibaug
| Photo Credit:
Ashish Sahi

The art-filled luxury villa is designed by Pinakin Patel
| Photo Credit:
Ashish Sahi

Across disciplines — retail, interiors, architecture, fashion — Pinakin’s defining trait has been reinvention. “I enter a discipline, learn intensely, and then I leave,” he says. When he moved into fashion, he taught himself garment cutting using YouTube tutorials. What drives him is a search for beauty, not just in objects, but in lifestyles and nature.

A formative influence was his mentor Dashrath Patel, a Padma Shri and Padma Bhushan awardee. Pinakin believes Dashrath never received proper recognition and recalls years spent trying, unsuccessfully, to secure institutional acknowledgment for his work — appointments with institutions and meetings with corporates, all ending in polite refusal. Dashrath remained unfazed. “Time is a continuous affair,” he would say. “In another lifetime, I will become famous.”

The lesson stayed with Pinakin. “Nobody makes you famous,” he says. “You have to plan for it.” Markets reward predictability, he believes, but both Dashrath and Pinakin resisted being boxed in. “Every decade, I reinvented myself,” he says. “I respond to what’s happening around me.” Sustainability, for instance, never felt like a trend to him. “Climate was going to revolt,” he says. “It was obvious.”

Sanctuary in Alibaug

The boldest decision of his life came in 1999, when he left Mumbai for Alibaug. Professionally, everything was going well — money, visibility, press. “I was in a sweet spot,” he says. “And I was miserable.” City life, clients, even his friends irritated him. Alongside this ran a philosophical shift — from a search for beauty to a search for sublimity, influenced by Advaita thought. “I wanted to find a higher joy,” he says. “So I could stop critiquing everything around me.”

The move was instinctive, and risky. Pinakin credits his wife, Dolly (Hima), a talented gardener (she co-founded the well-known south Mumbai nursery Bageecha and is the magician behind the greenery in their Alibaug house) for making it possible. “She’s been the anchor,” he says. “Without her, I’d have gone off the rocker.”

Pinakin Patel’s Alibaug house

Today, the couple live on a three-acre Alibaug property lush with water lily ponds, butterfly gardens, and dense foliage that buffers the now-busy road nearby. The house holds around 70 artworks and antiques; Pinakin admits, with characteristic nonchalance, to placing an M.F. Husain painting outdoors under a chikoo tree. In total, he owns nearly 1,000 artworks. Next door is Pinakin Studio, a retail and exhibition space employing around 80 people, mostly local and informally trained. “People come from all over India to buy furniture and objects,” he says.

For Pinakin, the upcoming retrospective is not a culmination. “I don’t see a straight line, I see movement,” he says. Looking ahead, he says his calling card will read ‘Pinakin Patel, Facilitator.’ “I want to be the platform through which designers can display their talent,” he explains. “Come to Pinakin Studio with your ideas, and we’ll make them here.” It is, fittingly, yet another reinvention.

The Turning Point opens on January 18 at Nilaaya Anthology and is on till March.

The writer is a Mumbai-based journalist and author.

Brucelee, a black and white Shih Tzu is a bundle of energy as he trots along with Maya, another Shih Tzu. They are soon joined by Luna, a gentle St Bernad. They prance through dry-leaf tunnels and hop around sand pits, bringing smiles to morning walkers at the State’s first dog park, located at Udhagamandalam’s Arboretum Tree Garden. While the garden covers an area of over three acres, the park, built at a cost of ₹40 lakhs, has earmarked play zones, water sprinklers, besides a fully functional obstacle course to keep animals entertained. Every day, about 10 to 15 dog lovers and their furry companions gather together at the park.

On a chilly winter morning, sunrays filter through a boulevard of native and exotic trees at the Arboretum Tree Garden that stands tall next to the Ooty Lake. The tree garden not only showcases the thriving plant diversity of the Nilgiris but also offers visitors insights into the region’s rich ecology, conservation and climate resilience.

The park has been designed entirely around the existing trees, so dogs can enjoy a naturally shaded environment
| Photo Credit:
SATHYAMOORTHY M

“We selected the Arboretum Park for several reasons,” says Lakshmi Bhavya Tanneeru IAS, the Nilgiris District Collector. “One of the biggest advantages is the natural tree cover. There are many mature trees here, providing excellent shade, and we were very clear that we would not cut or remove even a single tree. The park has been designed entirely around the existing trees, so dogs can enjoy a naturally shaded environment.” Designed to prepare dogs for district, state and national-level competitions, the park features 13 training activities, including doggie crawl, archway run, stepping riser, teeter-totter, hoop jump and weave poles. Inputs from organisations like the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA) were taken into account while developing the park. 

Another factor was that as the public footfall here is low, they felt that the space could be put to better use. A small stream passes through the centre of the park, dividing it into two halves which helped to plan the exclusive zone for pets. “Within the zone, we have created separate areas for small dogs and large dogs, all of which are completely fenced,” she says as we tour the park.

People walking around the park can watch the dogs playing from outside the enclosure. Water bowls are placed throughout the park. There are leash stands too to help owners relax while keeping their pets secure. “Inside, we have installed various play and agility equipment, keeping in mind that Ooty also hosts dog shows every year.”

Lakshmi Bhavya Tanneeru IAS, the Nilgiris District Collector at the park
| Photo Credit:
SATHYAMOORTHY M

Pet dog trainers and owners can bring their animals for training, however, registration of dogs is mandatory. Dog owners from across Nilgiris district can register their pets on umcpetregistration.in along with details such as the owner’s name and address, photographs of the dog, and vaccination records. Veteran dog trainer P Ravi Kumar, who has over 40 years of experience, says the park will prove useful for his dogs. “I have 35 dogs. German Shepherds, Golden Retrievers and Great Danes. For German Shepherds especially, we need a big ring where the dog can run 20 to 30 rounds continuously,” he says.

Ravi Kumar runs boarding where people from across the country leave their pets with him for months. “Running and obedience training is essential. We participate in dog shows across India and travel in AC coupes because the dogs must be kept comfortable.”

Lakshmi Bhavya Tanneeru IAS, the Nilgiris District Collector at the park that has earmarked play zones
| Photo Credit:
SATHYAMOORTHY M

JR Sentamizhselvan, a Class XI student, owns a Doberman, Labrador, German Shepherd and a Shih Tzu says the park allows him to spend more time with his pets. For college student Martin, time at the park with his Beagle Mia is therapeutic. Another student, D Krithik says he started using the space to train his six-month-old German Shepherd and Pug.

Doggie crawl, archway run, stepping riser, teeter-totter, hoop jump and weave poles are installed at the park for training purposes
| Photo Credit:
SATHYAMOORTHY M

K Arunprasath, who trains Caravan Hounds, a native hunting breed from Karnataka, highlights the park’s role in canine mental health. “These dogs are great runners. We’ve been training dogs for 15 years. A park like this with lots of open spaces helps reduce anxiety and stress.”

The Collector, a dog lover herself, says it was important to create a dedicated and safe space for dogs, where pets can move freely.

The park has a fully functional obstacle course to keep animals entertained besides water sprinklers and earmarked play zones
| Photo Credit:
SATHYAMOORTHY M

Safety and etiquette are a priority at the park. There are boards listing do’s and don’ts, and basic pet etiquette that one must follow. Owners are required to stay with their dogs at all times while inside. Vaccination certificates are mandatory, and owners are asked to keep them on their phones. These are checked at the entry to ensure the health and safety of all animals using the space. While pet registration is mandatory for locals, tourists can bring their pets by showing valid vaccination certificates.

Lakshmi Bhavya Tanneeru IAS, the Nilgiris District Collector at the park where pet owners should follow pet etiquette
| Photo Credit:
SATHYAMOORTHY M

According to the district administration though the Nilgiris has high dog ownership, there are very few pet-friendly places. The initiative encourages responsible pet ownership besides addressing issues like lack of safe recreational spaces for pets. The park is also expected to give a push to tourism as many visitors, especially from Kerala, Karnataka and AP, often bring their animals on their holiday trips to the Nilgiris. She adds, “After long journeys, pets experience stress. Since dogs are not allowed in most gardens, this park gives them a space to relax and play.”

The park is at Arboretum Tree Garden, West Mere, Commercial Road ( near the Ooty Lake and Botanical Garden). Open from 8am to 5pm. Food is not allowed inside, though owners may carry a few dog treats.

Published – January 16, 2026 03:49 pm IST

Ever wondered why strawberries and strawberry-flavoured ice cream or chocolates do not taste the same?
| Photo Credit: Freepik

A Work In Progress
| Photo Credit: Chris Gonzaga via Wikimedia Commons