Coldwater, Michigan. A woman receives a phone call. From her dead mother.

If you have read and re-read Tuesdays With Morrie, chances are you have already snapped up The First Phone Call From Heaven by Mitch Albom [Hachette India Rs 499]. If not, here’s what to expect.

The thing about this book is that when you start reading, you don’t know what to expect. It makes you want to believe. As much as it makes you want to question. It’s a classic case of science vs religion.

The book tells the story of Sullivan Harding (Sully) — his air crash, the tragic accident of his wife Giselle, and the sadness of their son Jules. Eight people, including the police chief and a day care owner, are receiving the phone calls. The church is confused. Coldwater becomes a pilgrim spot. Route 8 is choked. Scores of people land up there to pray. Some to protest. The mayor is happy. The media is interested. Cafes are booming. The phone company is smiling its way to the bank.

Convinced that it’s a hoax, Sully (whose baby boy waits for his deceased mom’s calls for days) decides to investigate with the help of Liz, the librarian. Prime suspects include Maria Nicolini, the woman from the morgue who writes obituaries in the local newspaper Gazette, veteran reporter Elwood Jupes and Horace, owner of morgue Davidson and Sons. The investigation leads to Sully realising his connection to the phone calls from heaven is closer than he would have ever liked, or imagined.

A story that only Mitch Albom can tell, a premise so delicate that you constantly oscillate between the known and the unknown. Once you read this book, you will never be able to pass the pink flip phone without a second or a third look.

Shradha Agarwal

Ruskin Bond insists that “nothing ever happens in Fosterganj”. Yet, with his magic pen and maverick wit, the grand old man of Indian storytelling has spun a yarn that is as charming as it is compelling. Tales of Fosterganj [Aleph Book Company, Rs 295] is a delightful frolic through a quaint village in the hills of Mussoorie, one that will fill you with sweet nostalgia for a time when things were, well, simple.

Set in the early 1960s, the story finds the author as a strapping young man of 40, always ready for an adventure, be it joining an expedition to catch rock lizards and extract “adult” oils, discovering skeletons in crumbling palaces or hiding rubies in potted plants.

Then there are the characters. Take a stroll down the sleepy village and you are sure to meet Foster aka Bonnie Prince Charlie, who’ll try to sell you some onion bulbs, eggs or may be even his home-brewed Himalayan Scotch. Stop at Hassan’s for a fresh bun or chat up bank manager Vishaal about his latest capers chasing a professor-eating leopard.

But beware Sunil. You may take a shine to this merry young man but keep an eagle eye on your wallet and your watch or you and them will soon be parted.

“Fosterganj is an imaginary place, a mix of Barlowganj, Mussoorie and other places,” said Ruskin Bond over phone from his home in Landour.

And if you’re wondering why he’s set his story in faraway 1960s, “Well, the characters are no more,” laughed the crafty young man of 80!

Samhita Chakraborty

Set in 1934 in the scenic town of Monghyr, Lamplight: Paranormal Stories from the Hinterland by Kankana Basu [Pan Macmillan India, Rs 250] is a collection of eight short stories revolving around the aristocratic Chattopadhyay family and their encounters with the world beyond.

An earthquake wrecks the lives of the people of Monghyr but the Chattopadhyay mansion remains standing, save a huge crack down the middle. The joint family has always been supernaturally inclined but now eerie things start happening.

Each tale is unique and comes with a message. The Séance shows how the bonds of friendship cannot be severed even by death; Rosy is about the power of love and the inevitability of fate; The Guide tells us about the existence of good spirits; Mala’s Story is steeped in necromancy; The Terrace shows how our loved ones guide us even after death, The Monghyr Fort is an unnerving story about reincarnation, The Wedding of Tigmanshu Pramanik has a love-sick ghost and finally The Blood Emerald gives us a chilling description of the plight of a woman whose beauty became her vice.

There’s a wide range of characters — from the docile Nimaida and captivating Smita Mhatre to the vile Chitrapishi — and though they are a tad predictable at times, by the end of the book you’re wishing you could exchange your kith and kin for this charming yet eerie lot!

So if you’re looking for something to read on a cold winter evening, a hot cuppa by your side, shine your light on Lamplight.

Abhinanda Datta