Ghost Eye

Author: Amitav Ghosh | 336 Pages | Genre: Fiction | Publisher: HarperCollins | Year: 2025 | My Rating: 8/10

Ghost Eye by Amitav Ghosh is an intriguing addition to his body of work, blending his characteristic climate change concerns with elements of magical realism, memory, and metaphysical inquiry. Known for novels such as The Shadow Lines, River of Smoke and Jungle Nama, Ghosh has consistently explored the intersections of history, migration, and environment. In Ghost-Eye, he extends this exploration into more experimental terrain, weaving together reincarnation, psychological investigation, and climate activism into a multi-layered non-linear narrative that spans continents and decades.

At the heart of the novel lies a deceptively simple yet deeply unsettling premise of a young girl named Varsha Gupta, raised in a strict vegetarian Marwari household in late-1960s Calcutta, who suddenly insists on eating fish, which is entirely alien to her upbringing. More disturbingly, she claims to remember a past life in which fish was part of her staple diet, suggesting that she may be a ‘case of the reincarnation type.’ This premise immediately situates the novel within a liminal space between rationality and spiritual belief, a tension that drives much of the narrative.

In the early sections of the book, Ghosh meticulously constructs the world of the Gupta household, capturing the cultural rigidity and social milieu of Calcutta’s elite Marwari community. The disruption caused by Varsha’s insistence on fish is not merely dietary but existential as it challenges the family’s worldview and opens a door to questions they are ill-equipped to answer. Enter Dr Shoma Bose, a psychologist studying reincarnation cases, whose rational framework is gradually destabilised by Varsha’s revelations. Through Shoma, Ghosh explores the limits of scientific reasoning when confronted with phenomena that resist empirical categorisation.

What elevates Ghost Eye beyond a simple psychological mystery is its expansive temporal and spatial scope. The narrative moves fluidly between 1960s Calcutta, Sundarbans, and contemporary Brooklyn, where the story resurfaces decades later through Shoma’s nephew, Dinu. This dual timeline allows Ghosh to play with past and present, tradition and modernity, belief and scepticism. The transition is seamless, and the intergenerational narrative adds depth to the central mystery, transforming it into a broader meditation on memory and continuity.

Ghosh uses the motif of reincarnation not merely as a plot device but as a lens through which to examine ecological and ethical questions. The idea of cyclical existence mirrors the cycles of nature, suggesting an interconnectedness between human lives and the environment. As the narrative unfolds, it becomes increasingly clear that Varsha’s story is linked to larger concerns about environmental degradation and climate change. The involvement of environmental activists in the latter part of the novel underscores this connection, tying the metaphysical elements of the story to urgent real-world issues.

Ghosh’s descriptions of Calcutta and the Sundarbans are vivid and immersive, evoking a strong sense of place. The sensory richness in the depiction of food, landscapes, and everyday life grounds the more fantastical elements of the narrative, making them feel plausible within the world he has created. The novel’s magical realism is subtle rather than overt, emerging organically from the characters’ experiences rather than being imposed upon them.While the buildup is compelling and the thematic layers are rich, the ending feels somewhat rushed and less satisfying than the preceding narrative. The resolution of the central mystery, which promises a profound revelation, instead arrives with a sense of abruptness, leaving some threads insufficiently explored. Despite this limitation, Ghost Eye succeeds in pushing the boundaries of Ghosh’s narrative style. It represents a departure from his more historically anchored novels, venturing into speculative and metaphysical boundaries between science and spirituality, memory and imagination, human life and the natural world. The blending of genres creates a unique reading experience that is both engaging and thought-provoking. 

How Social Media Reels are Redefining Relationships

Social media has evolved over the last decade and more so during and post COVID-19 from a casual means of communication to a complex social ecosystem where relationships are not only maintained but also publicly measured, performed, and often misunderstood. The act of tagging someone in a post or sending a reel now frequently carries more weight than the content itself and appears to be a new language of intimacy, loyalty, and belonging.

Human relationships were always forged and maintained through physical presence, shared experiences, and mutual conversation. While those elements still hold value, social media platforms like Instagram, WhatsApp, and Facebook have changed social interaction. Friendship seems to have become ‘performative’ and is now getting increasingly defined by our digital gestures, who we tag, send content to, and frequently react to on social media. The exchange of DMs, reels, memes, and story replies may seem petty, but they have become the new currency of connection. In this new digital age, being remembered in someone’s “share” list is a modern affirmation of your place in their emotional world where time is divided and attention is commodified. It’s no longer the maturity of the friendship built over years defining the strength of the connection, this new phenomenon has been affecting and afflicting across all age groups from teens to people in their 70s!

What used to be simple rules for friendship, like coffee, conversations, and sharing silly jokes over text, has now changed. Friendship is now measured in direct messages, tags, and who receives the meme first. It’s no longer just about being included; it’s about being the first and only one included. Because nothing says “you matter to me” like a cat video at 3 AM. Social media platforms promote visibility and engagement. As a result, users develop interaction patterns that reflect this trend. Relationships are increasingly maintained through small interactions: likes, reactions, emojis, replies, and short content exchanges. These replace deeper communication, creating the illusion of closeness without needing much time or vulnerability.

Algorithmic affection is growing. If you engage often with someone’s content, they will show up more in your feed, and vice versa. This strengthens some relationships while quietly undermining others. Sometimes, a drop in communication doesn’t stem from emotional distance but rather because an algorithm has quietly removed someone from your digital view. Social media has turned even the smallest actions into emotional signals that are often unintentional. Reels are like modern-day carrier pigeons of affection, flying through algorithmic skies and delivering 60 seconds of inside jokes, shared interests, or passive-aggressive messages.

A subtle but clear hierarchy has formed in social groups based on digital content. Who sees the funny video first? Who is tagged in the inside joke? Who gets included in close friends’ stories? These digital hierarchies provide new social cues about belonging, preference, and even exclusion. This change creates anxiety and social tension, particularly for those who often read omissions or changes in online behaviour as signs of personal problems. We’ve all experienced this. You’re casually scrolling through the group chat, dodging memes and unwanted life updates, when you notice that your friend has been sending reels, but not to you. Instead, they are sending them to someone else in your friend circle. Betrayal has never looked so clear.

With constant connectivity and “always on” friendships comes an unintended consequence: relational burnout. There was a time when friendships were tested by forgotten birthdays. Now, deep emotional hurt comes from not being tagged in a reel or story about something entirely unrelated. The pressure to respond quickly, stay updated, and keep up with every friend’s online persona can drain the joy of connection. Friendship, once based on depth, now often depends on speed and consistency, two measures that reflect platforms more than people. This urgency leads to miscommunication. A late reply, a missed tag, or a seen-but-not-responded reel can be seen as disinterest or rejection, even if the reason is trivial. As a result, friendships suffer not from real conflict but from imagined slights born from the overly sensitive nature of digital interaction.

Soon, new measures of connection and relationships will emerge, and platforms will introduce new tools to assess your FQ (Friendship Quotient). Measure these three indicators, and you’ll have your FQ. Like quarterly or annual performance reviews at school, these FQ levels will shape the future of friendship.

Quality of friendship = (number of reels received × frequency of tags) / number of mutual story reacts. 

Closeness coefficient = number of times you get the reel before it appears on your public feed/total reels posted. 

Emotional intimacy level = number of times and frequency they send you the reel with “this reminded me of you” instead of a lifeless emoji.

Despite the challenges, social media offers new ways to show care and share thoughts. A well-timed meme or relevant reel can bring laughter, validation, and a shared moment of joy across distances. In an increasingly busy and scattered world, these exchanges can be lifelines.

But, like all technologies, mindful use is essential. As we adjust to this new relational landscape, we should consider, 

– Are we truly connecting, or just maintaining a facade of connection?

– Are we sharing to include others, or to show how close we are? 

– Are we interpreting digital silence too severely, or using it too carelessly?

In the end, while the medium has changed, the need for empathy, intention, and presence remains the same. Whether through reels, texts, or face-to-face conversations, what we all want is simple: to be seen, to be valued, and to know we matter.