Now...
What if you had an invisible recording chip that you could
make an incision into your brain and fix in? What thoughts would t record, say,
if you were in between six months and twelve months in your first job. Yes, it
has to be those many months, precisely. Because for the first six months you’re
either on honeymoon travelling down the various verticals of your organization
with an air that suits a princess who has just arrived, a thick garland in her
arms, sizing up the candidates her father has lined up for her Swayamvara. And
of it is past twelve months, you’re officially a veteran as, one, it’s time for
a fresh batch of new joiners already and two, because you now know the game to
be able to try your hand at it yourself. So, yes, it is that six to twelve
months of mind reading that we are talking about here, things that no one else
hears than you yourself. The stories take you right back there, in those times.
The stories are self deprecating and funny to begin with,
though not without the clear undertone of satire, a satire that makes us lose
our way all the time between the means and the end, between the journey and the
purpose. And then, towards the end of story 3, it brings about melancholy. The
young chap asks for advice, and the older successful climber offers one that is
barely honest considering his own trade-off between life and time. The younger
strides off in silent disbelief while the older smiles over his personal
destiny of success and breakage, of work and home. And thus rolls on the
carriage of stories, innocent yet powerful, juvenile yet so real!
Stories of Whatsapp “good mornings” and our gadget gripped
days follow. Stories of Boss-saga continues, and questions arise as to if the
vicious cycle must continue or is it now about time it is reversed.
The stories are ample, and they lightly touch upon wisdoms
that are deeper set in the universe of mankind… if you do not do what you love,
you still have the choice to love what you do, for example; if emotions were
bought at supermarkets, for yet another example, and so on…
However if I were to now bring upon how this could become a batter
read, I’m afraid I’d come up with points too many. I felt that while the author
aimed to touch higher thoughts through apprantly superfluous stories, the
attempt in most or perhaps almost all cases have been detained back to their superfluous
levels, unevenly standing out against their more altruistic ambition of
delivering a life’s lesson, a moral, a message. I believe that the stories need
much more deep dive capabilities to be able to achieve the message that they
contemplate. Also to add to it, the autobiographical tone which includes repetitive
characters and stories brings forth a kind of monotony and victim playing,
which is far from the real complexities of the game. The dilemmas and disputes
risk both over-simplication and under-treatment of the issues in hand. And it
is monochrome in that it does not provide multiple perspectives that is
necessary to do justice to anything we experience.
However, having said that, it is also to be credited that the
book is overall an easy read and it is hearty and honest. It warrants known
snippets from lives from all around us. It warrants a few mental mirror-facing
moments, too.
And to end with, I loved the marble touch from Santa in the
last story.
All in all, I rate this book a 5.5 on a scale of 10, and
look forward to reading more from the writer.
And yes, the review will not be honest until it carries a
note of confession at its tail-end, that while doing it, I did move over to
check up my social pages while surely I had nothing urgent lying there waiting
for me than a pure, plain, incorrigible addiction.
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