Showing posts with label IIM. Show all posts
Showing posts with label IIM. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

In The Mirror


                      BOOK REVIEW : Mom and I Love a Terrotist by Leema Dhar

Starting from the year 2004 – the year when Indian paperback industry was finally out of the ICU holding the strong hands of Mr. Bhagat, it has long 8 years. And, the number of shelves at the bookstores containing Indian writing has been exponentially increasing. The curve showing the growth in sales is ticking up steeply. But, the ‘literary’ minds have been complaining since long. They complain about presence and absence of two very things in every new-era Indian writers. The presence is of ‘redundancy’ and absence is of ‘maturity’. And, the generalization went such an extent that a new Indian author book drove a sigh “one more IIM ?.. huh!!”

And, when the severity of the issue was gaining ground – a chunk of young authors came as saviors. If I am not too wrong, Leema is the youngest among all.

The story revolves around a girl and her single mom on the picturesque island of Andamans. The story peeps through the eerie juncture of teenage and maturity. The moment-of-truth when the peppy-flashy world crushes down to the harsh-grey reality.  The moment when a tender mind is bereft to depression by the gore realism.  And, the realism is symbolically presented in the black stranger. The extremity of darkness in real world can be compared to the throttling shock a delicate mind undergoes when it witnesses a stranger sharing her mom’s bed. And, then turning the pages of her dear mother’s uncanny past. The book is a journey through the nook and corner of a teenage psyche.

The author very sensibly staged the plot on the back-drop of a real massacre. The issue of extremist movement has been dealt with care and sensibility.  The struggle and the sacrifice for the proletariats are very loosely touched upon. Though, the main plot is miles away from this issue, the story through the eyes of her mother could have delved deep a bit more on this. It could have signified and justified her sacrifice and pride in a broader sense.


Mom and I love a Terrorist by Leema Dhar
The story has a sweet pace of its own. The characters evolve slowly through the plot in a definite manner. But the subplots seem to be blatant and dull compared to the main plot. The college friends of the protagonist are seen-them-before sort of. Which college movie missed a playboy hunk, a slutty expose-it-all girl or a possessive friend? – All of them have got it. And, the characters seem too loud and out of place for a matured plot like this.

The boat-maker for whom the protagonist fell for is introduced in a fantastic way. He was tall, dark, well-built with a mystic aura. But, on the course - he has been over-mystified. The character remained obscured for long. A letter to part-away is romantic in true sense. But, it was prevalent mostly in the black-and-white movies of the early 60s. And, this behavior from a matured guy – is like a stone to digest.  Though the author has endorsed platonic love throughout , the creation of bond between the protagonist and her lover remains half-baked.

The epilogue touching all lives in the story briefing their where-abouts is really fine. Finally, it is a brave attempt from the pen of a young writer. And, the maturity shown in unfolding the mystery keeping the thrill intact and touching upon romance of relationship and nature is done with sheer mastery and deserve kudos.

 Whatever, the show-stealer is the island of Andamans . The thrashing of cold-waves on the shore- the distant lights blinking in the sea – the cool breeze – is bound to fill your mind with utter tenderness and glee of teenage nostalgia.

Monday, February 27, 2012

In The Mirror ......


BOOK REVIEW: Love, Me and Bullshit!


The year was 2004!! The paperback revolution in India started in that year itself. With the advent of a new trend of narrating self – experience in colleges – the long starved readers started relating with the dizzy nostalgia of umpteen recklessness of their own post teen days. Or repenting for what they missed. And for the mass, it was relishing the glimpse of their larger than life dream college life. And, in no time, the trend became a style – a shield-like attribute that any IIT/IIM alumni should possess. And, it increased the readership exponentially – the youth of India once again returned to the age old habit of reading novels – hats off to Chetan Bhagat !! and also to Peter Robinson !!

And, in Love, Me and Bullshit! – the author too acknowledged Bhagat’s contribution to inspire him for getting started. But, he has chosen a different path. Perhaps he was not too keen on making his book an “inspiration” for another Hindi movie.

The narrative is set on a time frame of 3 years – that portrays the juncture of any human life – the complexities of desire, love, lust and all that jazz.

Through the eyes of the protagonist, the author gives a vivid description of the inner conflict of a human mind. The mind that feels depressed as a friend gets to ride on his dream – the mind that repents for not chasing a “lion” – the mind that longs for someone to share his biggest happiness of life with – it is actually a graphic narrative of an honest mind that does not hesitate to unleash the feelings hiding in the darkest and the furthest nook of the heart.
The narration of the deep frustration is very real.Raw. It hurts. Itches your skin. The story makes you identify the poet, the philosopher and the beast in you.  It reflects the strength of inner belief in the God throughout.

 Love, Me and Bullshit! by Vivek Kumar Agarwal
The writing is smooth, sometimes allegorical with imageries. I loved the way the author portrayed the essence of love. It has no reason. Not physical. Not platonic. It simply happens and slowly creeps into the highest rung of prioritization of our mind. And, we become ready to sacrifice anything – just anything.



But the story strangely restricts itself only within the inner feelings of the protagonist. Though the readers are highly acquainted – it does not even trod the way of fun and glamour. Although it is humorous at times, the story mostly reflects the gloomy side of human psyche. The conflict within. The author proclaims himself as a victim of melodramatic Hindi movies – but he safely avoided a gripping climax. Be it the same old story – we always love to bite our nails in the climax scene.
But the book scores differently.  It scores in the odd way that inspires one to listen to his heart against all possible odds bypassing all lucre of prosaic grace.

And, in the end it will make you stand in front of the mirror. You will notice the poet in you on your right, aloof – you will notice the philosopher on your left, aloof – and the beast in you is …… well, some things are best when left unsaid. The position of the beast in the mirror I mean!!