From Darkness to Light by Sanchari Ghosh is one of those books you open with assumptions already packed into your bag. A brothel as a setting often signals grit, shock, maybe even a little voyeurism dressed up as literature. What happens instead is like being gently shaken awake, mid-sip of coffee, by a thought that refuses to let go.
Author: Sanchari Ghosh | Publisher: Bluerose Publishers | Genre: Fiction | Pages: 286
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At the heart of the story is Naina, a woman trapped in the chaos of the brothel, yet strangely free in the way she sees the world. She notices what most people miss: that everyone who comes to her, no matter how they arrive, is carrying the same ache. Different desires, same longing. Over time, Naina turns into the most unexpected spiritual guide. Men come looking for pleasure and leave with something else entirely. Not enlightenment with capital letters, just a softness, a loosening. Like good chai. Sweet, warm, finished too fast, but somehow the day feels kinder afterward.
Ghosh does not romanticise the world she writes about. The brothel smells exactly the way you imagine it would: cheap perfume trying too hard, sweat, exhaustion, lives lived on pause. There are needle marks, half-conscious bodies, and a constant hum of survival. But instead of asking the reader to stare at suffering from a safe distance, the book does something quietly radical. It brings God into the room, not in a blaze of light, but sitting cross-legged on a torn mattress beside a junkie, simply keeping company. It’s the kind of image that makes you stop, reread, and maybe put the book down for a second to stare at the wall.
The book’s philosophy is woven in gently, never announced. It suggests that everyone, yes everyone, is secretly searching for home. That moksha isn’t some celestial VIP pass but the moment you stop being cruel to yourself and, by extension, to others. That you don’t always need a temple when you’ve learned how to really see people. These ideas land without weight, the way a good conversation does when you realise hours have passed and your coffee is cold.
The ending doesn’t aim for fireworks. It doesn’t need to. You close the book, look out at strangers on the street, and feel something settle quietly in your chest. The only real complaint is the title, which feels far more predictable than the book itself. This story isn’t just about moving from darkness to light. It’s about how the two often sit side by side, sharing a mattress, waiting for us to notice.
Read it in one sitting, preferably somewhere noisy. The contrast makes it work even better.
Please note: I received an ARC from the author but the review remains unbiased.
