The Three Mistakes of My Life

I got really excited when I saw Chetan Bhagat’s new book in Big Bazaar. The cost(Rs.95 only) too did not made my wallet frown. I bought that book within a blink(The first mistake of my life, I realized later).When I met my friends, I proudly asked them, “Dude, have you seen Chetan’s new book?” My friends negated to which I proudly replied, “I have got it buddy” and my shrewd smile increased its curvature to form a perfect semi-circle and made me more flamboyant. I loved winning over them in ‘atleast’ one thing for the time being.

My pomp trickled me down to a slippery path of exaggeration(Its so very slippery that it can cause a dumb person to become an RJ or a little talk with a girl to be called as a date, and still we all love doing that!). Having read just the prologue and the first two chapters of the book, I told them the book is stunning with great storyline and blah-blah(Yes, you got that right : The ‘second’ mistake). It is not surprising because Chetan’s writing style especially at the beginning of his writing always looks marvelous(C’mon, he isn’t that bad!). The next few days somehow things didn’t workout, I could not get enough time to complete that book(Got tired of orkutting the whole day!) but that couldn’t stop me from giving free publicity to the guy who thanked Bill Gates in his acknowledgements. I recommended this book to every teenager I came across. Chetan must be getting hiccups everytime I advertised his book. Why shouldn’t I publicize? Its my fundamental duty to give a guy moral support who sat through the same tortures in the same lecture theatres as I am doing presently.

God was ‘a bit’ kind on me. My mom gifted that book to somebody(poor he!) for which I had a nice fight at home because the book was incomplete and I thought I would read it someday. The main problem was that I couldn’t complain to any of my friends about the lost that book because they were knowing that I had finished the book(courtesy to my exaggerations). Fortunately, my resentment faded away soon with incoming 200 scraps and numerous ‘gtalk’ conversations. Internet is a panacea, it can cure all your ailments. Days went by as fast as guys score runs in IPL(sorry for that dumb simile, I couldn‘t find anything better conveying my feelings).

I had a trip to Shirdi in the second week of June. I had taken two books(Paulo Coelho‘s stuffs) for the journey to provide my mind some philosophical entertainment(sounds weird, eh?). But the non-stop chatter of a 7-year old overenthusiastic “kid” brought me down to read some fiction(How could he understand the value of concentration, until he would need to fry his bottom to prepare for the competitions!). So I considered it a right time for finishing off with the incomplete book. At Jabalpur station, I committed the third biggest mistake of my life and nobody stopped me, not even my intuition.

I got down the train and purchased that book once again, and to add icing on the cake the shopkeeper told me, “Saheb, ye book bahot bik rahi hai”. My ego knew no bounds and a sudden pride sprang up : The book that I had suggested to my friends is gonna be a best-seller, “I rock!”. I came back happily on my seat and ‘dated’ the book for the next five continuous hours(Fortunately or unfortunately, that kid got down at the next station). The book provided me more jerks than the train. It was the same : filmy, melodramatic, repetitive, monotonous and non-sensical, in short disgusting. I could dream of continuous jeers from my friends, about this book, targeted at me with great force after they read it. The scenes from the film “The Butterfly Effect” flashed my eyes where I could go to the past and craft my future according to my own wish. Only in dreams I could save myself from my friends, who would leave no stones unturned in pulling my leg. Perhaps that’s why I am tall.

Book Analysis :

In the cup life of a Gujarati businessman, Mr.Bhagat added the spice of cricket, calamities, financial bottlenecks, friendship, romance, eroticism, emotional dilemmas, religious fanaticism and also maths(not to forget Mr.Bhagat ought to be good at this stuff). In a way the recipe for the script of a typical Indian movie could be found in that 95 rupees book.

Mr.Bhagat has gone somewhere wrong, he started writing out of his passion and now I believe he has drifted towards enriching his bank accounts. His books, save the stunning 5.someone, were a complete shit. He tried to do every kind of experiment on those, he tried to send us a message through God or tried to bring out the extremism of the religious fronts, but amidst all this he has forgotten to take care of the readers. He has become highly repetitive as his writings are always revolving around 3 to four friends of which one is stud, one is dull and the third, the narrator, is a guy suffering from ‘superb’ inferiority complex. The repetitions in the storyline tickles my small intestine and makes me uncomfortable. His writings claim to be true, but it is hard to find it in this real world of ours, ‘which moves around the sun if he notices’, so many coincidences are ‘beep’ impossible. If what he has written is true, then I am desperately expecting Ali to come out of nowhere in our Cricket team and replace Sachin and oh my jesus, I haven’t heard of that guy called Fred of the Australian team to be counted among the ‘Legends’. Comparing him with the legends like Naipul, Rushdie is inappropriate because he is not yet versatile, he needs to grow.
This is purely critical analysis, my views put in words. Every sentence describes my feelings and if this hurts anybody then prove your point to me or go to hell. Being a fan is the easiest thing in the world, just follow the herds of people who blindly follow a person. But one should apply one’s mind before carrying on someone else’s beliefs. Chetan Bhagat is undoubtedly very successful and his writing style is cool, but this monotony pinches me hard(and also tickles me, if you remember) and makes me comment on it. I would love to have your views on this book and also on Mr.IITian-IIMian husband of Mrs.Bhagat.

Sometimes I am bad, and the problem is that ‘sometimes’ happens too often.

(Written on 12th June in Shirdi)