Poorva’s Moi turns school, friendship, family and examinations into an intimate portrait of adolescence—and finds meaning in the ordinary.
There is something disarmingly familiar about Moi, but it’s you, Poorva Kaushik’s debut novel. First published in August 2026, the book follows Mishika, a school-going teenager negotiating friendship, family, academic pressure, self-doubt and the bewildering process of growing up. Rather than constructing adolescence around extraordinary events, Poorva finds her story in the small, recognisable moments that often leave the deepest impressions.
Mishika is an engaging protagonist precisely because she is imperfect. She procrastinates, overthinks, dislikes certain subjects, worries about examinations and frequently finds herself irritated by her twin sister Siya. Their relationship is one of the novel’s most appealing elements: they quarrel, tease and annoy each other, yet their affection remains unmistakable. The book captures the peculiar intimacy of siblings who may fight among themselves but instinctively close ranks when an outsider interferes.
Friendship, however, forms the emotional spine of Moi. Mishika’s experience with Aditi—her childhood friend whose absence leaves behind a complicated mixture of hurt, anger and nostalgia—allows the novel to explore how difficult it can be to forgive without forgetting. Elsewhere, new friendships provide Mishika with companionship during school projects, examinations and everyday crises. A particularly charming early episode sees her agree to a “temporary” best friendship for a week, capturing both the innocence and seriousness with which children approach relationships.
The novel is equally interested in the pressures of teenage life. Exams loom repeatedly over Mishika’s world, but Poorva avoids turning academic anxiety into a conventional motivational lesson. Instead, she shows the messy reality of preparation: distracted studying, exhaustion, panic, humour and the reassuring presence of friends and family. Gradually, Mishika learns that courage does not mean eliminating fear; it means continuing despite it.
A family holiday to Bali provides another important turning point. Away from familiar routines, Mishika begins to reconsider the anxieties that have consumed her. On returning home, she recognises that the journey has changed something within her: the world is still imperfect, but it feels easier to breathe in it.
Poorva’s prose is conversational, youthful and often humorous. Its informal voice, references to contemporary teenage life and frequent self-deprecating observations make Mishika feel less like a constructed literary character and more like someone speaking directly to the reader.
Moi ultimately succeeds because it understands that growing up rarely happens through one dramatic revelation. It happens gradually—in friendships that change, examinations that frighten us, family conversations, mistakes, laughter and quiet moments of self-recognition.
For young readers, Moi offers recognition; for older readers, it offers remembrance. Its greatest achievement is reminding us that the seemingly ordinary days of adolescence are often the ones that become our most enduring stories.