Finding My Way Back to Fiction

Editor’s Note

In this deeply relatable piece, Megha Manchanda takes us through her journey back to fiction—the genre that first sparked her love for reading. After a year of audiobooks and non-fiction titles, she finds herself drawn home to the comfort of stories that awaken imagination and empathy. Her reflection is a gentle reminder that in a world overflowing with information and endless scrolling, few things feel as grounding as curling up with a good novel. Through her words, we are reminded that fiction doesn’t just entertain—it reconnects us to compassion, curiosity, and the quiet joy of being present with a story.

At the risk of sounding pompous, I take pride in the fact that I am a voracious reader.

Having said that, I also experiment with genres but often gravitate towards my favourite – fiction. The joy of reading a good fiction novel is unmatched, as this genre not only uplifts my mood but also makes me reflect on life.

But with the year 2025 coming to an end in the next couple of months, I have managed to finish only one fiction novel. However, this is an aberration and not the norm, in my case. And if I reflect on the year gone by, I may be able to make sense of it.

At the start of the year, I was travelling long distances for work, almost on a daily basis.

I prefer using the Delhi Metro for my daily commutes, and anyone who has ever used this mode of transportation is aware that it is very crowded during peak hours. Therefore, in my quest to make my daily commute more productive, amid the rush-hour crowd, I decided to subscribe to an audiobook app.

The audiobook library had some excellent non-fiction titles, and I got hooked on them and finished over half a dozen of them in a span of six months, and then some more.

Over nine months passed without me picking up a fiction novel till a friend gifted me one I met after a long time.

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Perhaps that was my cue to come back to my comfort zone. Barely into the first few pages of that novel, I felt I was home. Those familiar yet not-so-familiar characters and their stories again brought my imagination alive. The fiction novel that brought me back from the lull, lately, is Sakina’s Kiss by Vivek Shanbhag. It was a slice-of-life novel written in a fashion that makes the ordinary look beautiful. Shanbag is a masterful storyteller, and his craft shines through in the book. I devoured that book in a week, and I am already on to the next one.

Soon after finishing Shanbhag’s book, I started reading Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Americanah, which I had picked up from one of the book fairs. Continuing with my reading momentum, I picked up this book that was lying, unread, on my bookshelf for the last year or so. Although it is a verbose piece of work by one of my favourite writers, I have jumped into the world of Ifemelu and Obinze, and I am sailing through those emotions.

I definitely hope to finish it soon and move to another one, and so forth.

I will certainly read other genres, from time to time, as I always do, but the impact that a good fiction novel has on me is phenomenal. In this day and age of social media and bombardment of information from all corners, unplugging and reading a fine novel in your room’s favourite nook feels like a warm hug.

While reading a particular genre is a personal choice, my bias towards fiction stems from the fact that it helps the reader empathise with the characters that do not even exist in the real world, a world that is grappling with conflict. A fiction novel is capable of instilling compassion.

Hence, it is not just a win-win for the reader but also for society at large.