Thursday, 20 June 2013

Rantings of a Bookworm

I have read quite a few books in my life. If you’ve read my review of Law of Averages on this blog you will know, that I love reading. I've spent many a-nights hurdled under a flashlight in my quilt with a book, even as mum screamed at me to leave the god-forsaken book (every book I ever read) and go to sleep, and if this isn’t bad enough, I’m one of those OCD people who can’t leave a book half way through. I mean don’t get me wrong I can leave conversations half way, work, and even food in dire circumstances, but ask me to leave a book half way through, and I’ll look at you as if you’ve just asked me to kill my own first born.

Having said that, this not-leaving-a-book-half-way-through obsession is quite a pain in the ass at times. This was one such time. Before I narrate this trying tale, let me just say that I understand and respect the effort and time it takes to write a book and so as far as possible I don’t trash any book. However there is that odd book now and then that forces me to say it: I hated this book, it would have been better if this person had not written it at all! Having said that, I will still refrain, for the purposes of this post to name the book in question. Let’s just call it The Book (I know creative right?) and call the forebearer of torture in this case Mr. Author.

The Delhi International Book Fair is a magical place. Every year I go back there ready to spend an afternoon sorting through books. The smell of freshly bound pages, the sight of posters hanging everywhere, the odd book reading here and there, and the artistically displayed bookstands, did I mention it is a magical place? This year was no different. With my elder sister in tow, I walked into the India International book Fair on its last day. The fact that I was at the time in between jobs and broke, should testify to my devotion.

After walking around for about half an hour my sister informed me that we had only 2 hours to spend at the fair. To say I was devastated would be an understatement. How can you expect someone to short through 5 halls full of publishers and authors in two hours? So I decided to prioritize. I decided to visit Hachette, Penguin, Harper Collins, Rupa and the international stalls.

The reason I am going into so much detail, apart from the fact that I can because this is my blog, is to set a backdrop so that I can justify my buying this god forsaken book. Fast-forward two hours. I was almost at the end of my allotted time, and I had just entered the Rupa stall. Realizing that any second my sister was going to start nagging about leaving I started frantically leafing through random books. See Rupa is a great Indian Publisher whose main appeal is the rather economical price of their books. For a cash strapped me, it was definitely an important go to on the day. So on whim I picked up The Book.

The Book is about a medical college and the first year students there. Not only is the book over the top, unbelievable and written in stilted sad English, if it reflects anything about the actual state of affairs at a hospital or a teaching medical college I would sue the place before you could say Hello. At one point it talks of a musty old delivery room with a woman in labour lying alone on the OT table with no one around. On enquiring the first year medical student realizes that ALL the doctors are out to tea and a nurse had wheeled the patient into the labour room before rushing off to fetch a doctor. The first year medical student in question freezes in shock and on hearing groans of pain from the lady in labour jumps into action scrubbing in. While he is washing his hands for the required 3 minutes (thank god for small mercies) the lady starts pushing and at that point he lunges forward using a lifetimes worth of cricket training to catch the child before he falls to the floor.

In what realm is this funny? I was so flabbergasted and outraged to read this, I doubt I will ever have kids of my own or go to a hospital if I ever do! Thanks to The Book I’m definitely going the mid-wife way. The fact that The Book is written by a doctor makes me even more nervous. Every time I think of the incidents in the book a shiver runs down my spine. I remember a sequence when during a government sponsored vasectomy camp a 5th year resident tries his hand at the simple procedure and in the absence of a supervising attending “cuts everything in sight” and then sews up the prostate of not one but two patients. This of course leads to the two men returning later that night with extremely swollen testis filled with blood and complaining of a lot of pain.

Over and over the book resembled a medieval torture device that should be used to punish public offenders. I have –never in my entire life- read something so vile. The real mystery is why Rupa decided to publish it. Although I am not going to reveal the name of the book, because I am sadistic that ways, I will right now laugh at you for if and when you ever do read the book. hahahahahaha.

10 comments:

  1. atleast tell the book's name :p

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    1. Now what fun would that be Mr. Da.One? :P

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  2. Replies
    1. The advantages of living in the same house! :P

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  3. Replies
    1. Why what exactly Sushmit? Why did I read the book? - I think that I've answered that already. Or why am I not disclosing the name? - Look at that I've answered that too! ;)

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  4. Do you watch/have watched Friends?

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    1. Do I Watch FRIENDS? Psst! Do I breathe? do I eat? Of course I watch Friends! :P

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    2. There are times, when the situation is so overwhelming, that Chandler is unable to frame a question, and settles for a drawn out "Whaay?"
      It's that kind of a situation here :P

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    3. Ahhh like the way you think! I can relate :P

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