An hour later I was at the bus stop and my mind was racing with a thousand thoughts about the book. As I reached my apartment it was already 6 p.m. I was sharing the apartment with two friends, while one was a nagger the other wouldn’t care about anything at all. I started opening the book and before I could read a letter of it, my friend started scolding me for not having packed my luggage as I was supposed to board a train to Hyderabad the next hour. Quickly packing my luggage I started to Yeswantpur Railway Station carrying along with me some sought of unknown excitement, perhaps because I had a wonderful book to read, or probably for the very reason that I loved travelling?
Before the train left I was comfortably cozying in my seat. I had my luggage, my wallet, my mobile, my ticket but also had a feeling that I was missing something. It was bothering me. Something else too was bothering me: a daring mosquito whirring continuously in my ear despite knowing I was trying to whack it! I could even trace the path it was wandering. It was making whirls & curls and suddenly, it had disappeared. I was still trying to figure out what was bothering me; meanwhile my stomach got my attention asking me to feed it. As soon as I peeped out of the window to find some nourishment to satisfy the only eternal desire of the roasted-chicken shaped organ, I found an old man pushing a four wheeled cart carrying newspapers, magazines and a few selected pirated books. That was when I understood it was the excited feel of reading the book that was missing. A split second later my tummy interrupted me with rumbling sounds. I decided to have something first and then start reading. A while after I was done with my supper, one by one, everyone started preparing themselves to count the sheep. I wanted to read the book. As I took the book out of my bag, I was proud for possessing it. I started showing off the book, though no one really noticed, I was in a delusion that all the eye balls were on my book. I started framing what they might have been thinking about the book and me. Now, before I could read any part of the book, I was fast asleep. Duh!
Few powernaps later. Yawn… Hyderabad it is. Hurray!! I’m home! Without even cleaning the bacteria that have formed a kingdom on the smooth surface of my teeth I started to read the book. I completed reading the first chapter, generally the first and last few chapters of a book are interesting that it would woo the readers, but I found something was wrong. I continued reading. I completed the second chapter too, it felt incomplete. Usually the mornings after a tiring journey are so numb, you find something happening in front of you and it takes time to realize that you yourself are doing it. I took a brief break, got freshened up and after a small nap, like it was the only thing I was living for, I resumed reading.
Unable to bear the thought that I must’ve missed something in the first two chapters I read them again. The story started very well. Before the story made any good impact, it was over. It felt like an about-to-shoot Standard Firework’s Deluxe Flower-Pot suddenly breaking down into silence. The next chapter had just a little more than nothing in it. That story leaves us in ambiguity if she was praising a righteous woman or portraying the sensitive side of Rahman’s. Ganga’s Ghat is the next chapter. Whatever this story tells you is no way practically achievable or at the least wouldn’t have lasted long. This story ends abruptly as suddenly awoken from sleep.
Pacifying myself that I was excited for no-good I turned the page. Smashing away the critic, here came a small little hope as the title of this chapter was same as of the book. Felt like finding an oasis in the desert. This should have been the best of all, I thought. The story started and it was just another brick in the wall. This is the most senseless lesson in her life. I’ll explain why. She incidentally once had to visit a destitute home, the man present there offers the author to have something; she initially rejects everything but later hesitantly accepts to have milk. She then overhears the conversation of the man with his wife, who reminds him that they couldn’t afford a glass of milk. She since then stops drinking milk. Surprisingly she is not used to take milk usually. How ridiculous! What has she got to do with it anyway? What’s the point in stopping drinking milk? And worse - putting it as the title of the book! This is the least one could expect. Even kids would have reacted better. Anyone who wants to take that book should read this chapter first. If she really did not want to just add some pages to the book she wouldn’t have included this.
However, there are many more chapters annoying you no less than this, but the impact would be the highest as it was chosen to be put as the title of this 200 pages papery product. The author just chose the title because of its only quality of luring the readers, making it a good marketing move. The only good this book has is easy language. Probably the last chapter ‘Life’s Secret Lessons’ could be given a read. I wish I could add an extra lesson of making people understand that one should stop judging a book not only by its cover but also by the author.
There was no proper beginning for a few stories, no proper ending for most stories and nothing to take from any story. All stories are just as useless as a user guide explaining how to operate a TV remote. Mrs. Murthy left untouched some aspects that could have given the reader a good boost. The story line could’ve been way better instead of just narrating what one had done in their lives. She should have cited some examples in the end of each chapter that could have made the reader think. The climaxes of all the stories, yes ALL, have to be presented a cabbage! All these stories are perfectly plotted to leave the reader squirming in his seat. The author should’ve added the moral of each story that could‘ve helped in calling it a book of moral stories like Panchatantra, Akbar-Birbal, and Chandamama. It is just another book for the children. Guess she was carried away with the thought of writing stories for kids. It should carry a statutory note - ‘Not recommended for ages above 10’ and the tagline would be better as ‘Text-Book for the kindergarten’.
Interestingly these are the most motivating stories in her life. In the life of a brilliant person who now chairs the Infosys Foundation.
THE DAY I STOPPED READING YOUR BOOKS!!
Before the train left I was comfortably cozying in my seat. I had my luggage, my wallet, my mobile, my ticket but also had a feeling that I was missing something. It was bothering me. Something else too was bothering me: a daring mosquito whirring continuously in my ear despite knowing I was trying to whack it! I could even trace the path it was wandering. It was making whirls & curls and suddenly, it had disappeared. I was still trying to figure out what was bothering me; meanwhile my stomach got my attention asking me to feed it. As soon as I peeped out of the window to find some nourishment to satisfy the only eternal desire of the roasted-chicken shaped organ, I found an old man pushing a four wheeled cart carrying newspapers, magazines and a few selected pirated books. That was when I understood it was the excited feel of reading the book that was missing. A split second later my tummy interrupted me with rumbling sounds. I decided to have something first and then start reading. A while after I was done with my supper, one by one, everyone started preparing themselves to count the sheep. I wanted to read the book. As I took the book out of my bag, I was proud for possessing it. I started showing off the book, though no one really noticed, I was in a delusion that all the eye balls were on my book. I started framing what they might have been thinking about the book and me. Now, before I could read any part of the book, I was fast asleep. Duh!
Few powernaps later. Yawn… Hyderabad it is. Hurray!! I’m home! Without even cleaning the bacteria that have formed a kingdom on the smooth surface of my teeth I started to read the book. I completed reading the first chapter, generally the first and last few chapters of a book are interesting that it would woo the readers, but I found something was wrong. I continued reading. I completed the second chapter too, it felt incomplete. Usually the mornings after a tiring journey are so numb, you find something happening in front of you and it takes time to realize that you yourself are doing it. I took a brief break, got freshened up and after a small nap, like it was the only thing I was living for, I resumed reading.
Unable to bear the thought that I must’ve missed something in the first two chapters I read them again. The story started very well. Before the story made any good impact, it was over. It felt like an about-to-shoot Standard Firework’s Deluxe Flower-Pot suddenly breaking down into silence. The next chapter had just a little more than nothing in it. That story leaves us in ambiguity if she was praising a righteous woman or portraying the sensitive side of Rahman’s. Ganga’s Ghat is the next chapter. Whatever this story tells you is no way practically achievable or at the least wouldn’t have lasted long. This story ends abruptly as suddenly awoken from sleep.
Pacifying myself that I was excited for no-good I turned the page. Smashing away the critic, here came a small little hope as the title of this chapter was same as of the book. Felt like finding an oasis in the desert. This should have been the best of all, I thought. The story started and it was just another brick in the wall. This is the most senseless lesson in her life. I’ll explain why. She incidentally once had to visit a destitute home, the man present there offers the author to have something; she initially rejects everything but later hesitantly accepts to have milk. She then overhears the conversation of the man with his wife, who reminds him that they couldn’t afford a glass of milk. She since then stops drinking milk. Surprisingly she is not used to take milk usually. How ridiculous! What has she got to do with it anyway? What’s the point in stopping drinking milk? And worse - putting it as the title of the book! This is the least one could expect. Even kids would have reacted better. Anyone who wants to take that book should read this chapter first. If she really did not want to just add some pages to the book she wouldn’t have included this.
However, there are many more chapters annoying you no less than this, but the impact would be the highest as it was chosen to be put as the title of this 200 pages papery product. The author just chose the title because of its only quality of luring the readers, making it a good marketing move. The only good this book has is easy language. Probably the last chapter ‘Life’s Secret Lessons’ could be given a read. I wish I could add an extra lesson of making people understand that one should stop judging a book not only by its cover but also by the author.
There was no proper beginning for a few stories, no proper ending for most stories and nothing to take from any story. All stories are just as useless as a user guide explaining how to operate a TV remote. Mrs. Murthy left untouched some aspects that could have given the reader a good boost. The story line could’ve been way better instead of just narrating what one had done in their lives. She should have cited some examples in the end of each chapter that could have made the reader think. The climaxes of all the stories, yes ALL, have to be presented a cabbage! All these stories are perfectly plotted to leave the reader squirming in his seat. The author should’ve added the moral of each story that could‘ve helped in calling it a book of moral stories like Panchatantra, Akbar-Birbal, and Chandamama. It is just another book for the children. Guess she was carried away with the thought of writing stories for kids. It should carry a statutory note - ‘Not recommended for ages above 10’ and the tagline would be better as ‘Text-Book for the kindergarten’.
Interestingly these are the most motivating stories in her life. In the life of a brilliant person who now chairs the Infosys Foundation.
THE DAY I STOPPED READING YOUR BOOKS!!
