An Indian author listens to literary ghosts in Paris as the French edition of her book is released

In the alleys of Montparnasse, my footsteps traced the legacy of dreams sculpted under its twinkling stars. Each cobblestone whispered a different secret, each corner turned, unveiled a new act in the drama of creation.

La Rotonde wasn’t just a café; it was a proscenium where the past performed its most enchanting scenes. Starving artists could occupy a table all evening for a few centimes. If they fell asleep, the waiters were instructed not to wake them. Arguments were common, some fueled by intellect, others by alcohol, and if there were fights (and there often were) the police were never summoned. If you could not pay your bill, La Rotonde’s proprietor would often accept a drawing.

I wandered into this tableau, not as an observer but as a character newly written into its lore. My breath mingled with Simone de Beauvoir’s in the cool Parisian air. The ghosts of yore – those maestros of color, word, and thought – convened in a spectral celebration of Girls Bazaar, the French reincarnation of my tale, I Kick and I Fly.

I found myself seated at a table that felt like a crossroads of epochs. The air was thick with the scent of oil paint and worn leather, mingled with the faint aroma...

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