The God Of Small Things (Book Review)

First of all I want to tell you, I was not about to review this book, but some of my friends and followers asked me to. So as per their wish specially my friend Priha noor, here we go.

Honestly, I wanted to be in love this book, but it was so terrible at some points. This book is one of the important novels, the ones that get talked over and over about how essential they are for reading. But I just didn’t enjoy it very much. However, I honestly don’t know if I didn’t like it because it was not as good as I expected or if I just didn’t get it because it was so complicated. I couldn’t follow a thing, the timeline was disjointed, often skipping ahead followed by flashbacks, so I felt disoriented and dissatisfied much of the time.

The book talks about the political climate of Kerala, India in ’60s where there was a rise of communism and the caste system was banned by law, but socially it was still prevalent as the oppressive system was somehow so embedded in people’s mind that it was impossible to get rid of the prejudice that people felt. This mentality made innocent people born in different castes into victims of their own fate.

The story is about the twins Estha and Rahel who are growing up in a small town Ayemenem Kerala, India. Their uncle Chacko has a daughter, Sophie, who lives in England with his ex-wife Margaret.
Chacko invites his daughter Sophie and his ex-wife Margaret to India after the death of Margaret’s current husband Joe.
Sophie, a bright kid becomes the centre of attraction in the family. One day, Sophie is found dead in a river. This becomes the major turning point in the lives of all the characters (this book has so many characters and everyone has their background story). The circumstances that led to the death of Sophie and how it turned the lives of the twins upside-down. The book is narrated by third person, but majority of the story is seen through the eyes of the twins.

Oh Dear, Look Where We Are!

Oh dear, look where we are
In a world sinners in it
The thieves, the liars
And the alcoholics in it.

If it’s sinners vs losers
The loser like me wins in it
Losers fight the fate
And sinners lose their minds in it.

Folks from the heavens
Made me sputter and inspired
Who I always thought was mine
The fire of hell was burning in it.

I thought she was a saint
Because I was not aware
Of her Angelic smile
With demon ashes on it.

After all, everything here I’m
With my people who know my worth
Oh dear, look where we are now
Under the sky in the night
Broken shining moon in it.

© Shuhab Abro

Fate (Poem #2) – Joke Of The Fate!

Fate is a monster, yet,
Fate is my friend.

Fate is death, it is my pain
Fate is darkness clouding my name.

Fate opens all of the closed doors
And sometimes closes all the open ones.

Fate is a monster, but yet,
It’s my friend.

Fate helps me
But sometimes holds me down.

Fate is that brings you happiness
And loved one to the side of your bed.

Give it a thought without mind
Say my name with no sound.

Fate gives me a heart, yet
No chance to love.

Fate lets me imagine you
But yet stops me talking to you.

Fate takes the truth
And turns it to lie.

Fate gives us logic, yet
Makes us fools.

Fate is an enemy, but yet,
We play our part as friends.

I need fate with my faith
And fate with you.

If I ever plan to make it out alive
I’ll need your love in my fate.

© Shuhab Abro

Fate (Poem #1) – Sealed Fate!

If our fate is sealed
Where will it be, God?
Where to be found?
In our hearts,
In our mind,
Or in the horoscopes?
Or maybe in the poems,
Those I write?
In our soul,
In our beliefs,
Or in the cities
Those are still to be found?
Help us God,
Encourage us to be on the right path
Even if fate is sealed and hidden.
Guide us,
Indicate us,
Push us towards
The journey of honorable humans.

© Shuhab Abro

Our Master And Leader is Hussain!

Our master and leader is Hussain,
The peace in our hearts is Husssain.
Whisper of his followers and lovers,
Say Nothing but Ya Hussain, Ya Hussain.

Except you, I have no other thought,
My kin, my belongings,
My life and devotion.
To the dark tale of the killing field,

The pouring rain we weep.
Grieving and mourning you these nights,
Alongside the martyrs we weep.
Our tears keen of the Al-furaat,

Our Imam got killed for water.
By our Molaa, the leader, we remain,
From Ashura is the zeal that we gain.
Lovers! And believers say Bismillah!

The path to Jannah is from Karbala!
While I’m alive, I’ll never abandon Ali,
Every Day is Ashura,
Every Land is Karbala.

Oh heir to Hussain’s blood!
Mahdi, son of Zahra, arrive!
Defend us from the tyrants,
Fly to us oh proof from Allah.

© Shuhab Abro