Human beings are complex. Not just as to how we function with each other, but also as to how we engage with ourselves. We operate in a weird mesh of absurdly weaved webs, each more complicated than the other, trapping us in a suffocating, all-engulfing burden…much like Atlas upholding the heavens. The rather unfortunate aspect is the rather difficult act of walking away from this society sanctioned lifestyle of inane pressure. Walking away is perhaps the healthiest choice one can make, and is somehow the bravest thing one can do. But regardless of whether you do so or not, it is important to just take time for yourself and do nothing.
Perhaps that’s why this book brings a smile to my face. I guess simpler times, or at the very least, the memory of those rather pure days, makes us pine nostalgically for that simplicity, that ease. Something that I did, and I encourage any reader of this book to do, is to let the book engulf you. Don’t question it. Buy into what appears to be an implausible plot, or actually don’t. That’s where the beauty of this book lies. It manages to convince you that it is a rather edge-of-the-imagination story about a rather simple plot, but the magic lies in the passing references, the construction of awkward yet all too real phrases of the 1990s, and of course, the unspoken, unwritten emotions.
The characters are by design awkward in their communication, and it is perfect, because that’s what they’re supposed to do. Your emotions aren’t driven by the descriptions themselves, but by the nostalgia and memory it evokes, and this book does that masterfully. Reading this book in the middle of a very hectic week was almost a cathartic experience for me, which in these times of overwhelming news flashes and pressure points, reminded me to simply take a step back, maybe lie down in the sun, and do nothing. Maybe have a laddoo.