When a pro-blogger like Sidin writes a book, he’s bound by the collective yoke of expectations. History proves that in most cases, such expectations about the ‘authorati’ tend to dissappoint readers to a great extent – Dan Brown’s latest being a case in the point.

But Sidin has bashed all his critics in style with Dork: The Adventures of Robin Einstein Varghese - his debut book, published by Penguin.

In a way, the book is an extension of Sidin’s blog. So is the story. So we have our unassuming hero Robin Varghese (with an interesting moniker of ‘Einstein’)who has a penchant for FRIENDS episodes and being unintentionally dumb; not to mention his proclivity for wild hangovers (some of which make you guffaw like the eponymous movie). So, Robin gets a ‘zero’th day’ placement at Dufresne Partners – a second rung consulting firm, as he passes out with 41st Rank from his prestigious ‘Ahmedabad BSchool’ (IIMA, obviously!). The story revolves around how his work-life at Mumbai spawns a series of blunders and misadventures, thanks to his ‘Einstein-ish’ abilities.

The plot unfolds in the form of a Compact-disc Word Document diary which Vadukut supposedly recovers from beneath a kitchen sink at his newly-rented flat! (Duh! whatay’ surprise! But Sidin almost makes you believe its true with perhaps, the world’s best ‘Introduction’) This diary-ish narrative, though tried and tested, is greatly invigorating. The high point of ‘Dork’ is Sidin’s insane humor. It’s earthy, and untiring. Each page offers you something to guffaw your lungs out – you actually have to exercise a wee bit of self-control when reading the book in public places (Yeah, I’m serious about this!!) There’s again a heady mix of mallu humour – Sidin’s forte. The book is fast moving and before you notice it, you’d have covered a hundred pages. The characterization (especially, of the protagonist) is also brilliant. Robin’s screwed up mind is brilliantly portrayed. Which brings us serious doubts of whether Robin is a pepped-down version of Sidin himself! He’s also strived his best to include references to modern times – ushering in a healthy mix of YouTube, Camera Phones, laptops, MS Excel and even a movie-obsessed protagonist!

But as the book’s title inexorably suggests, ‘Dork’ has a deeper, probing intent. Robin unveils a full-scale Tehelka style ‘sting’ of Office culture! Every unethical practice in the corporate world is portrayed. We have cut-throat competition among employees, prostrate toe-licking of bosses by employees, plagiarism, and what not! At the end of the book, if you’re involved with a consulting company in some way or the other, you’d end that contract the very moment! And your mind would hesitate if you’re going to take up that fat pay check consulting job! Now, this is what I call laughable activism!

Nonetheless, Dork does disappoint at some levels. The book is not for a non-management enthusiast – so if you aren’t too enamoured with office culture et al. you’d find Dork a long read, even with the humor. Not just that, the story has a very abrupt ending. Just when you thought Robin would have a stupendous ending, the plot comes to a nasty halt. Besides, there’s too much dissing of the corporate culture involved. At one point, the criticism reaches nauseating levels. Then again, there’s always a profusion of details – a veritable blitzkrieg actually, that flusters you.

Yet, Sidin’s style and humour continue to be the saving grace of this hugely endearing and satisfying book. Perhaps, on Part II (yes, there’s even more Robin on the cards!), Sidin should do a serious revamp.

A must-read, in any case.

My Rating: 9.6/10

Related posts:

1. Two States by Chetan Bhagat – A review
2. Zero Percentile: Missed IIT, Kissed Russia – Review
3. Dabangg: A Review

It’s a tough time for new authors. There’s always inevitable comparison with India’s favourite (controversy-ridden) ‘youth icon’ author. Every young author, fresh-out-of-college, publishing his first book, tends to bear the brunt of this obnoxious comparison, not to mention being shunned by a discerning lot of  ‘intellectual’ readers with a ‘mediocre’ tag.

Neeraj Chhibba seems to be the right scapegoat for such comparison. He shares Mr. Youth Icon’s (YI, for further reference) publisher, his primal book costs exactly the same as YI’s books (Rs. 95!), and to make things worse, the colour schemes of his book oddly resembles that of YI’s first, even though Sonali Lal did a better job than YI’s garrish in-house designer.

However, I summarily choose to desist from any such comparison. Having read his first book “Zero Percentile: Missed IIT, Kissed Russia” twice thrice, I strongly felt that Mr. Chhibba deserves an independent, clinical analysis. Which is a convoluted way of putting it across that I LOVED his book, if you didn’t get me.

The plot’s not too far-fetched, and yes, it’s autobiographical. The story revolves around Pankaj, a brilliant, young,Delhi-ite who is part-quizzer, part-enterpreneur and full-IIT-aspirant, even in his teenage. Fate plays spoilsport with his life, and a terrible accident deprives him the opportunity of giving his IIT exams. But a scholarship to study engineering at Volgograd, Russia, comes as saving grace. With not many options in sight, he boards his Russia-flight, and spends seven and a half eventful years in Russia. Meanwhile, he loses his virginity (after quite an effort which results in a close friend getting afflicted with AIDS), becomes a millionaire (in deeply-undervalued Russian Roubles, nonetheless! ) and gets to enjoy his vodka. He undergoes a plethora of obstacles, from a day-long fling in a Russian jail to bartering a mexican standoff with the Russian Mafia, and learns a lot about life, only to succumb to love towards the end of the plot.

The best attribute of Zero Percentile is its fast-paced narrative. This is a book you WILL finish in a sitting and it won’t take you more than five hours at a stretch. Each page has something compelling to offer, with new nuances to the plot being accrued on-the-fly. There’s an endearing quality to the book – there’s something about the characterisation, that’ll help you relate to some of the characters, especially the protagonist. The chapters on Pankaj’s early days in India – the Delhi life, school days, et al. are quite charming. The transition from charming India to dark and grimy Russia has been laid out smoothly. So are the insights into the country of Russia. Neeraj plays carefully with the narrative to ensure that erudite messages describing the state-of-affairs of the then-beleaguered nation aren’t tiring. By the time you finish reading the book, you’d be prescient enough to lecture a few class 6 students on the country.

The book has enough for the seasoned voyeur – there are enough descriptions of Pankaj’s and his friends’ flings with Russian beauties to quench your thirst! Having said that, a sixth standard kid who might chance upon the book might flinch quite frequently – yes, this book is for adults (not necessarily above the age of 18). Chhibba knows to play with emotions too. There’s the right mix of pain, awe, anger, happiness, and a whole gamut of literary emoticons. They’re subtle enough, and touch your psyche – evidently, Chhibba has written every word from his heart. Every word of this book, I felt, was candid. Kudos to Neeraj for baring open his heart with such perfection.

Nevertheless, the book has its share of flaws.

It all begins with the title. Percentiles never come into play when it comes to IIT-JEE. It’s been ranks all the way, for JEE. When I first heard about the book, despite noticing the ‘IIT’ subtitle, I thought it might have to do something with the CAT (Common Admission Test) – ’cause that’s one exam which gives out percentiles. The author mentions his ‘zero percentile score’ in IIT JEE repeatedly throughout the book, but I don’t get the logic. Alright, technically, he has a zero percentile, but couldn’t he have resorted to a rank nomenclature for the book? Just a suggestion. I mean, the name’s always the creative freedom of the author, and being a (lousy) critic, I’ve no right to play with creative freedom! My point is, the name serves the book right, minus techncialities.

The story, even with all its nuances, is not very ‘out-of-the-world’ as the title might suggest – but Chhibba’s narrative holds the threads together.  The narrative might be fast-paced, but it’s complicated, most of the time. “Complicated as in, Salman Rushdie-style?”, you ask. No. It’s just that some portions in the narrative lack clarity. They’re a tad too convoluted – there’s some beating around the bush at places, which could’ve been avoided. While trying to carve out a humorous situation, Neeraj meanders from the topic a bit, and the end results aren’t very sweet. Yet, you’d get the hang of it and you’d be grinning, but the complexity could certainly have been avoided. (I couldn’t help but feel pangs of Deja Vu at such instances, because resorting to unintelligible complication is a facet of my writing style too, and I am doing my best to correct it. ) Plus, the proof reading department at Rupa hasn’t done its job well. I noticed at least a couple of spelling mistakes and grammatical altercations. And of course, the climax is a tad too predictable – so is the plot of the book. Chhibba doesn’t have a way with suspense, and keeps giving hints regarding the fate of the protagonist(s) throughout. So you keep guessing as you read, and 90% of the time, it’s spot on.

Agreed, there are flaws, but as you can see, a lion’s share of them  are too trivial even to notice. The book is endearing, and by the time you finish reading it in one sitting, you’d smile. It’s a feel-good book, despite the not-exactly-happy-happy climax. Read ‘Zero Percentile’, when you’re down with depression and trust me, by the time you’re done, you’d thank me for reading it. And no, this one’s not a one-read-wonder – you’d want to read it again and again. And with each time, your predilection for Pankaj and his cronies would only increase exponentially.

I’m STRONGLY RECOMMENDING Zero Percentile. Go down to your bookstore, spend Ninety Five rupees. This one’s for your library.

Btw, YI, beware!  Your days are numbered!! *evil grin*.

My Rating:

9.5/10

Related posts:

1. Two States by Chetan Bhagat – A review
2. Dork, Robin ‘Einstien’ Varghese, Sidin Vadukut and A review!
3. Quick Gun Murugun: A Review

Three books and one movie strong, Chetan Bhagat has indeed become a name to reckon with. More than a youth icon, he’s become a celebrity himself. Fact is, it actually took him three years to graduate to being a full-time writer. And with each book, he’s improved a lot. A hell lot, I’d say.

‘Two States’ catapults the 35 year old author to the top rung of all Indian authors in English.

The storyline of the book is predictable from the feel-good titling itself. Two protagonists – Krish Malhotra (a punjabi) and Ananya Swaminathan (a tamilian) are classmates at IIM Ahmedabad. A rendezvous at the college canteen bonds them together, and in a matter of weeks (or rather, days) the duo are sleeping together in hostel rooms. Love blossoms, and by the time the duo pass out of college, they’ve decided to get married to each other. The hurdles seem insurmountable in the beginning – jarring differences between their parents, their cultures and the language barrier being the reasons. Krish gets himself posted in Citibank chennai, where Ananya is working with HLL, and sets the ball rolling. Their carefully-crafted plans suffer occasional hindrances and at one point in time, the entire affair goes topsy turvy but things magically (I repeat, magically) get sorted out with the typical,  happily-ever-after-Bhagat-climax.

I was actually smiling for at least two of the three and a half -odd hours spent on Two States. Yes, the first thing that strikes you is the endearing quality of the prose. I’d clearly vote for ‘Two states’ as the most endearing work by this youth icon writer. Chetan has actually tried out an entirely different layout for the book, quite different from the usual crop. So, we have book that’s written like  the script for a drama or even a teleplay, for that matter. Yes, the chapters are divided into Acts I, II, III, IV and V! The language is simpler, the descriptions are more vivid and the plot is better-laid-out. Bhagat has carefully edited out the sex though! Yet, the chemistry between the protagonists is much more evident. The pacing of the book is again perfect – not one boring moment in the book! Once you start reading, you’d only put the book down when you’re done with it.

However, the most spectacular feature of the book is the autobiographical element.

It all starts with the subtitle of the book – “the story of my marriage”. Bhagat himself has admitted that the story is inspired from his own life. Yes, he’s a Punjabi and his wife Anusha  is from Tamil Nadu, and they did study together at IIM Ahmedabad. Krish and Ananya have twin kids (yeah, I spoiled your climax! ) just like Mr. Bhagat and his wife do. Plus, the book seems to be a straight part 2 of ‘Five Point Someone’. ‘Hari’ has apparently become ‘Krish’. There are mentions of ‘lost semesters’, ‘affairs with the prof’s daughter’, ‘traveling in car with the professor’, and there’s even a detailed chapter regarding how the old affair didn’t materialize. And to top it all, we have Krish’s repeated affirmations about his ambition to be ‘a full time author’. Krish actually goes about saying that he’d resign his well-paying Citibank job some years down the line! The parallels with real-life scores a high score in the endearing-meter.

Not everything about the book  is rosy, though.

Even though Bhagat has been maturing progressively as an author, the looks of his cover-pages are on a clear downward spiral. Five point someone had a snazzily-designed, awesome cover page. But, the cover page of Two states sucks ass! Even going by the adage about not judging a book by its cover, the first-appearance does give a stunning visual impact about the contents. The jarring-red outer-cover with a classless silhoutte-graphic might’ve scared at least a few thousands of potential readers, I’d daresay!  Besides, on the whole, the book’s story is straight out of a bollywood movie – perhaps, this has something to do with Bhagat’s newfound tryst with the industry. Like ‘Three Mistakes’, ‘Two states’ has its ultra-corny moments. The way Ananya and Krish impress the others’ parents – that’s way too good to be true. Agreed, ‘Two states’ is fiction, but for a book that has autobiographical content, Bhagat could’ve been more realistic. Talking about Bhagat’s ‘common-man-style’ – many critics continue to denigrate it.  In a way, the style is a double-edged sword for Bhagat. It has endeared the author to the masses, but has given him only brickbats from ‘high-brow’ critics. Maybe, Chetan would silence them in his next work.

Minus non-realism, minus the cover, Two States shares space with ‘Five Point Someone’ in terms of awesomeness! I’m strongly recommending the book. It’d be a proud addition to your library, and for 95 rupees, it’s very much affordable and worth every pie. I loved it for the chemistry between the protagonists, the endearing moments, the tongue-in-cheek humor, the simple-yet-poignant ‘Bhagat-logic’, and of course, the central theme – LOVE!

Guess what, I badly wanted to get  married after reading the book!

My Rating: 9.2/10

STRONGLY RECOMMENDED!

Observation:

Have you noticed something? All of Chetan Bhagat’s books have got to do something with numbers! I’m assuming it has got to do something with the author’s IIT education.

Five Point someone

One Night @ The Call Centre

Three Mistakes of my Life

Two States

The next book will have something to do with ‘Four’.

Related posts:

1. Zero Percentile: Missed IIT, Kissed Russia – Review
2. “The Three Mistakes of my life”
3. Dork, Robin ‘Einstien’ Varghese, Sidin Vadukut and A review!