I was really picky this time, could not decide which one to read next – surfed through Kindle suggestions and went through my wish lists – ended up more confused. Looked up at the little shelf of books I have – noticed a book wrapped in transparent thin plastic and picked it up – it’s The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy – yes, the Booker Prize winner. Yes, this book was a hit in the ’90s.
Started reading some reviews here and there – was thoroughly impressed. Okay, so I have finally found my next read. Now the dilemma, the usual one – the hard copy or the Kindle digital copy – I chose the latter. The hard copy adorned the shelf again while I bought the digital one on Kindle. And why I decided on the digital version is because while you lie on the bed, you can just read without switching on the lights, and there is no need to disturb the kids’ sleep.
I am at page 80~ and it shows I have read 21% of the book. What I understand till now is this is a story of everything – I mean everything. Set in Kerala. Some anglicized uncles, a battered mom, and two kids, Estha and Rahel, and their journey. Look, let me be honest – when I started reading the book – I was almost petrified by the literary words used by the author – I found it bit difficult to understand the humor, vocabulary, and the depth – the magic is that once you are into it – yes, I struggled with the vocabs and the flow – but that’s okay and how do you learn?
The book just notes everything, literally – like how the world revolves around a train gate – how it changes and the chaos – street vendors to an INA veteran. The honks and the hustle. The flags and the knotted hard arms, the familiar voices, and the war cry – zindabad.
Another thing – The God of Small Things can feel confusing because the family relationships are layered, and Arundhati Roy introduces people in a non-linear way. So pay attention to the relations. The protagonists are Estha and Rahel – the twins.
The book touches everything, the touchable and the untouchable, notes the crawl-back walks, tastes the pickle, distinguishes the orthodox and the anglicized, the Ammus and the Veluthas. The Marxists and the communists, even the hardliners. Yes, you feel like you are in Kerala, India. An India that just won the war but lost it somehow – with the tremors and troubles it faced all through the struggle – somewhere in between, she also gave up.
I am at 24% of the book – I am still wondering what this book is about. About Kerala? India? The cultures? Or a story that is still to unfold? The author, while narrating the story, unmistakably sheds light on the societal imbalances and the dogmatism which is stubborn.
Will go on. I am puzzled.
Everyone has their memories to cling to, sweet ones and some not so sweet ones. A fat uncle and a young niece stare at the roof and ask questions to themselves. One searches for his daughter and the other one gets insecure of her mom loving someone else more. Not sure why I connected with this scene from this book.
Back to myself – I was walking this morning by the lake, and the realisations are abundant – are they late? Am I late? Why did I choose what I chose? Is this all I wanted? Isn’t it humane? The squabbles, the sullenness – are they subjective? Are they something unnecessary? I was puzzled. And then I read the passage from the book. Everyone struggles in their own way. A 50 and a 5.
Back to the book.
Does happiness count when you are in a dream? I mean, you are dreaming and you are happy – does that count? – Estha asks Ammu. What counts, that counts. Unswerving intelligence from the children.
This line stuck with me from this book. How do you measure happiness? It can emerge from anywhere, I mean anywhere.
67%, page 245. The literary words the author uses are sometimes cumbersome to fathom for me… LOL. But I will go on. Because I am attached to the essence. I connect with Rahel, Estha, Velutha, Ammu – everyone. I am living them.
And I finished. A looonnnggg time back I started this one – somehow could not make time. This is 12:30 AM on 3rd July 2026. My Kindle library marked the book as read. So finally.
I would say I loved the last part of the book – where a love story blossomed and ended – a pure one – with unmatched souls. A touchable and a not-so-touchable. And a separation of a boy from his mom (and a tearful me!). The mom runs along the train and the boy is in the train car. Tears are everywhere. But the boy has to go. Destinies are cruel. But it doesn’t matter – destinies happen and people forget – a mom never does.
I won’t ask you to go and read this book – because this one does not need an endorsement – this is the Booker Prize-winning book. Honestly, I am to blame for sure – I didn’t connect with the book – not sure why. One of the reasons could be that I never maintained the continuity and took almost a month plus to finish the book owing to my work and other engagements.
Anyway, a nice read and my first one by the author.
Thank you.