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In the foothills of the Himalayas, a few hundred meters below the Dalai Lama's temple in Dharamshala, on a quiet, winding, monsoon-eroded road next to a motorcycle garage, sits the bookstore/café Illiterati. It has no sign outside, only a chalkboard with a weekly quote, often from Fernando Pessoa, which hangs above the bohemian characters who frequent the balcony.
Within, an airy, light-filled treasure trove of books awaits, with thick, hand-made wooden tables, fresh flowers atop them, a piano and other instruments for guests to play at whim, and, at the back, two balconies that open up onto the mountains.
Although a few of the books, which cover an impressive range of...