Book Review – The Girl On The Train

 

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“For life’s not a paragraph and death I think is no parentheses.”

– E. E. CUMMINGS

The Girl on the Train is a psychological thriller novel written by British author Paula Hawkins, published in 2015. The book was a huge success among readers. In 2016, a movie was made with the same title based on the book.

Rachel is a 32-year old woman with a very messed up life. She is a lonely, alcoholic woman who has lost her everything; her husband, her job. She daily commutes on 8:04 am train. The journey takes her along the house where she lived, with her ex-husband, Tom. On the same street, she observes the house no. 23 where a couple lived, Megan and Scott. She imagined them to have a perfect life and it felt comforting to her. One morning she saw Megan kissing another man. She went to the street at night, completely drunk and she had a total blackout. Megan had disappeared the following day and Rachel believes something must have happened on the night she had the blackout.

The story is narrated in the first person told from point of view of three woman – Rachel, Megan and Anna. Rachel is a drunkard, Megan is a cheat and Anna is insecure about her husband’s relationship with his ex-wife, Rachel. Although the twist at the end is predictable, the build-up to the climax is well written and it forces the readers to be glued to the book. The three women in the story are not happy with their lives with Rachel living in self-pity and being obsessed with her ex-husband, Megan is suffering from boredom and restlessness with her married life. Anna is afraid of the constant interference of Rachel in their life and is worried about the safety of her daughter. This book is a classic case of unreliable narration. The story has good suspense, well carved-out characters and is a worthy read.

Happy Reading 🙂

Book Review – 1984

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“War is peace.
Freedom is slavery.
Ignorance is strength.”

“Big Brother is Watching You.”

“If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face—forever.”
Do these quote scare you? If your answer is in negative, then be ready to change your mind because these words epitomise the world’s deadliest totalitarian government. The first quote is the slogan of the party, the second one is the measure by which they control people and the third one is their idea of the style of governance.

Eric Arthur Blair, better known as George Orwell, was an English author having profound knowledge in politics and is most famous for his satirical novel Animal Farm (1945) and the dystopian novel Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949).

Oceania is a future state where everything is controlled by a ruling totalitarian political party under the leadership of Big Brother. The party have three important ministries through which they function. The Ministry of Truth changes historical facts to portray the Big Brother and the party in a better light.
The Ministry of Love deals with punishing the people who are criminal according to the party. The Ministry of Peace deals with wars with other countries. Winston is a thought-criminal ( the biggest crime in Oceania is thinking ) and keeps his anti-government ideas in a secret diary.

1984 is a dystopian political, horror novel. The novel states the fears of an authoritarian government where every single person of the society believes in a single ideology and the language is deteriorated according to the benefits of the party. There is a three-chapter manifesto of a secret brotherhood in the book whose ideas are still relevant in the current political scenario. Orwell has brilliantly shown us the danger of dictatorship. 1984 is a must-read for all even if one doesn’t like this genre.

Book Review – The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd

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“The truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to the seeker after it.”

– Hercule Poirot, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd

Agatha Christie is a celebrated name across the world for her works in the mystery genre that usually involved detectives. She is the best-selling novelist of all time according to Guinness Bookook of World Records. The book that brought her into the limelight was The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, published in 1926.

The story starts with Dr James Sheppard, the narrator of the story, discussing the suicide of Mrs Ferrars who had a secret affair with Roger Ackroyd, the wealthiest man in King’s Abbot. Ackroyd is found dead the following evening in his locked study. The prime suspect is his stepson who had disappeared mysteriously from King’s Abbot. Roger’s butler and his sister are also under the scanner of Hercule Poirot, the famous detective. Poirot has to solve the case with aids from Dr Sheppard and his sister.

The story is told in the first person, varying from her usual third-person narration of the story. If you are a fan of slow and leisurely reading, you are about to get surprised. Even the laziest of readers can’t help themselves to put the book down before completing the novel. This mystery goes down to the last page. The soul of the book lies in the unforeseen twist that comes at the end. The end will force you to re-read the book to discover the clues which you will certainly overlook in the first reading. This book will make you fall in love with Hercule Poirot, one of Agatha’s main characters recurring in many novels.

If you are a fan of mystery and want to read something that will knock your socks off, then The Murder of Roger Ackroyd is the obvious choice.

I am a sinner

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I am a sinner
For I gave my heart,
Gave it o someone
Who broke it apart.

I am a sinner
For I regret,
Regret even having
In my mind, her silhouette.

I am a sinner
For I hurt,
Happiness is a mirage
And my life, a desert.

I am a sinner
For I hope,
Hope to cross the bridge
That hangs on the already broken rope.

Writing

Writing is not easy. Especially when it comes to putting down your feelings on paper. The very first question that comes across is what you are going to write. Will it be the old tried and tested way of keeping a diary? And once you keep a diary, will you write your quotidian routine or will you pen down your life in metaphors and hyperboles? Or will you follow in the footsteps of the Byrons and the Wordsworths?

I have never been successful in maintaining a diary. Therefore, I tried to take the other route. Again, I faced a dilemma about writing poems or short stories. So, I did both. I won’t say that these endeavours of mine have borne great results, but I tried and it felt satisfying. I wrote some poems and a couple of short stories. I have always been a critic of my work and have never been fully satisfied with any of them. However, that has not stopped me from writing. My poems and stories are like a son or daughter to me; no matter the flaws and fallacies in them, they’ll always be close to my heart. When I find faults in my work, I try to improve them. I don’t get despondent over it.

What I’m trying to say is if you want to write, then write. Maybe you won’t get the perfection, but you’ll have the satisfaction of doing it. Don’t think about your grammar or your sentence structures. Learn from your mistakes and improve the second time and the time further and further and further. Eventually, you will see the perfection that you first wanted to see. The proudest moment in a parent’s life is when their child succeeds and becomes the best. You’ll definitely feel the pride.

I’m not going to edit this write-up. I’ll learn from the mistakes and will be back with a better one. Until then, keep writing.

Finding The Horizon

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“Do the difficult things while they are easy and do the great things while they are small. A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.” – Lao Tzu

I have been making a list of places to go since I was a kid. The very first entry on the list was ‘The place where the Sky meets the Earth’. It still is. I haven’t seen the place yet. But, in the pursuit of finding this place, I have witnessed many more fetching sites on the planet.

Life is this journey. It is beautiful when we don’t think about the destination, the end of everything. Life is an amalgam of the opposites. Happiness and sadness, success and failure, love and hatred, comfort and pain. Every emotion combines altogether to form this journey. So don’t give up on life as I have not given up on my quest. If you do a mistake, you learn a lesson. You stand-up and continue with the journey. Opportunities are there for you at every step you take forward. And maybe, we all can find the place where the sky meets the earth.

I Love You

Thinking of you

Holding a pen

Searching for words

How to explain.

 

Scratching my head

Over what to do

But what comes

Is just you.

 

Those beautiful , long

Dense dark hair.

I just wanna be

Immersed in that layer.

 

The magnetic ability

Of those black eyes

Is the reason

That’s making me hypnotise.

 

Those pretty soft lips

That says they are mine

Has more effect on me

To anyone,than wine.

 

My life has blossomed

By your charismatic presence

Your existence

Is the reason of my existence.

 

Thousand things to say

Thousand things to do

But I’d just say

I LOVE YOU.

Keep your eyes open….It’s the darkness

Keep your eyes open

It’s the darkness

For the small ray of light

Can pass without any trace

 

You can’t see the path

Do not fear

Because what is not seen

Is simply not there

 

Lights aren’t the best guide,

They show you a mirage

But the darkness is,

The illusions are sabotaged

 

You can’t find answers in the light,

Answers are not easily seen

You have to go in the dark,

To search the answers within

 

Keep your eyes open

It’s the darkness

To make light your friend

Here is the base.

THE SONG

Four months.

That’s how long I’ve been trapped in this silent misery. Four months since I last saw her smile or cry. Four months since we spoke. We used to be inseparable, but now we’re like strangers, merely clinging to the shell of our relationship.

“Tu Hi Re” is playing on the radio, but I can barely register it. She used to tease me about my obsession with this song. It used to remind me of happier times, but now it only deepens my sadness.

My world became brighter when my sister came into my life. We shared everything—support, love, understanding. Music was another bond between us. I used to perform at different events, and she was doing well in school. But her new friends began pulling her away from taking music seriously.

Four months ago, there was a singing competition at her school. She didn’t tell me she was skipping it. I found her at a club with her friends. A boy was trying to get her to drink beer. I went up to her, and without thinking, I slapped her. The boy panicked and threw his glass at me. It shattered against a table, and a shard lodged itself in my mouth. I started convulsing before I lost consciousness.

Since then, the doctors haven’t been able to restore my voice. That’s hard enough to bear, but losing our bond hurts even more. Now, I have just one wish: to get my voice back for a moment—just long enough to tell her it wasn’t her fault. She’s still my angel. I want to speak to her again, even if it’s only to sing one last song, just for her.

Today, she’s on stage, ready to sing. I’m sitting in the front row, right in front of her. We didn’t meet before the performance. She grips the microphone, her gaze fixed on mine, and starts singing:

“Tu Hi Re, Tu Hi Re

Tere Bina Main Kaise Jiyoon…..”

For the first time in four months, I realize I don’t need words. My tears say it all. She rushes into my arms, and as she holds me close, she whispers into my ear:

“I’m sorry.”

“I LOVE YOU, BHAIYA.”

How Blue Is My Sapphire

“Aaru! Aaru! Where are you? Papa’s home. Come on now, show me your sweet face. Don’t tease me, sweetie!” I was starting to get a little anxious.

“Frenny, come here, buddy.”

The small, round, fluffy Pomeranian wagged his tail and trotted over to my feet. Frenny’s fur is so blonde that even the models would be envious.

“Where’s Aaru, Frenny?”

He glanced toward my study room. I had already checked there, but I went again and knelt down. That’s when a smile spread across my face. My daughter had climbed onto my back and wrapped her arms around me from behind. I’d been away for a week, and now we played and laughed together. Nothing compares to the joy of seeing your daughter laugh and sing after a long absence; no treasure in the world could rival that feeling. Even a tiny scratch on Aarvi’s skin makes me uneasy.

Aarvi—yes, that’s my sweet girl. She’s thirteen now, but it feels like we’ve shared lifetimes together, and I hope for many more.

I scooped her up and carried her to the living room, with Frenny happily licking my feet the entire way.

“Papa, I have a surprise for you.”

She always found ways to surprise me, whether it was through dance, drawings of our family, or little plays she would perform. Whatever it was this time, I couldn’t wait. I loved that she always wanted to make me smile. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of plates being placed on the table. To my surprise, there were sandwiches, beautifully arranged, waiting for me. Aarvi stood by, her head lowered, nervously twisting her fingers. It was a heartwarming moment—the first time my daughter had cooked for me. I stood up and kissed her cheek, and she sighed, smiling shyly. I couldn’t have been prouder to be her father at that moment. The sandwiches tasted like the best thing I’d ever eaten. She then went off to feed Frenny.

I knew I’d made the right choice in breaking my vow of “NO WOMAN IN MY LIFE.”

After being deeply hurt by a woman, I never thought I’d want to be around one again—until eleven years ago. My circle was small, with Frenny being my only companion. He had been by my side for two years, and we understood each other completely. When you have a broken heart, love, and care are the only things that can heal you, and I needed that badly. But I was determined not to let another woman disrupt my life.

I still vividly remember the day it all changed. I had stopped at a roadside tea stall on my way to the office when a little girl, her face bruised but still sweet and angelic, approached me asking for food. Her smile, slightly crooked to the right, instantly reminded me of my father—it was just like his. A sudden wave of emotion hit me. I bought her enough food to last several days, hoping she wouldn’t need to beg again anytime soon.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Thoughts of that little girl consumed my mind. I found myself returning to that same tea stall every day, hoping to see her again. After a week of searching, I finally spotted her, clutching a broken toy. I walked up to her and asked if she liked toys. She nodded enthusiastically. When I asked if she wanted more, her eyes lit up excitedly, and she followed me without hesitation.

That was the day I became a father. I named her Aarvi, meaning “the soothing, the pacifying.” Since that moment, she and Frenny have been inseparable from me.

Aarvi has been everything a father could hope for in a daughter. She fills my life with joy, shares her world with me, and constantly finds new ways to make me feel loved. My love for her grows deeper with every passing day. When I’m stressed or down, she comforts me like a mother would. When I’m disorganized or in a mess, she cares for me like a wife. But above all, she is the perfect daughter—the only woman I need in my life, complete in every way.

My thoughts were interrupted by Frenny, who jumped onto me, having finished his meal. Aarvi sat beside me, hugging him tightly as he wagged his tail and licked my face.

“Papa, where’s my gift? You did bring one, didn’t you?”

I always brought her something whenever I returned after being away.

“Aaru, beta, I’m so sorry. I was so busy that I forgot to give you a gift,” I said playfully.

“Papa, that’s an old trick! I’m not going to get mad. Just hand over the gift.”

“Alright, I’ll give it to you. But first, look behind you.”

She spun around, and I placed a pair of beautiful dresses in her hands. Her face lit up with joy.

“I knew it! You even brought one for Sakshi, didn’t you? I knew you would, Papa. You’re the best.”

“And you, my dear, are the best daughter.”

Sakshi is Aarvi’s friend from the orphanage in our neighborhood. After receiving her gift, Aarvi went to visit her.

Frenny was lying on my lap, sound asleep. He’s fourteen now, and his age is starting to show. He’s been with me for thirteen years. My mind wandered back to those days.

It had been a tough time. For two years, I barely spoke to anyone, and I looked pale and withdrawn. My five-year relationship with Sheetal had cost me my friends. One day, I was out walking and passed by a pet shop. A small, adorable dog caught my eye, its head tilted toward me. Tears welled up as I realized how much I missed everyone. Unable to hold back, I rushed home, grabbed some money, and returned to buy him. He was a Pomeranian, and I named him Frenny. He quickly became my closest companion, and I shared all my feelings with him. Gradually, I started to feel better and went back to work. When I brought Aarvi home, Frenny’s eyes sparkled with joy. From that day on, we’ve been a family.

“Oh, Frenny, I love you so much,” I whispered.

I kissed him on the nose, and he responded by licking my face.

I had found a family that no one else could ever have. It was complete—a mother, father, daughter, son, brother, sister, and friend, all rolled into one.

The darkness that once enveloped me had been replaced by the light of two precious gems—my two sapphires. It no longer felt like I was a man haunted by a terrible past.

Aarvi soon returned from the orphanage, and we spent the rest of the evening playing together before heading to bed. She curled up in my arms, and within moments, her eyes were closed. My thoughts drifted again.

It all began twenty years ago. I was twenty-one then, fresh from passing my senior secondary exams with a solid 92%. My father never pressured me about my grades or studies, but I never wanted to let him down. He had gone through some tough times, and his health had taken a turn for the worse.

My mother had left early. I didn’t know how or why; my father never talked about her. He was the one who raised me. He was my ideal, the person I looked up to. He even gave me a sapphire stone that had been passed down through generations.

“Aman, where are you going for your further studies?” he always asked.

And I would reply, “Father, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always stay with you.”

He would look disappointed by my answer, but he was happy with the love and care I showed him.

I enrolled in an engineering college in my hometown. That’s where I met Sheetal. She liked me from the start and always tried to be around me. After her persistent efforts, I finally accepted her as my girlfriend. It was a new and joyful feeling for me. I was glad she wasn’t demanding. But after a few months, I realized that I didn’t truly love her. She became more possessive, and I couldn’t handle it. She would get angry whenever I disagreed with her. I didn’t leave her, fearing she might harm herself.

Two years passed like this. Our relationship had deteriorated. While I accepted her, I couldn’t love her how she wanted. My studies were suffering as a result. I received poor grades, but my father said nothing. He knew something was bothering me. Our arguments escalated, and I became more frustrated and angry with myself. I feared it was the end of me. The thoughts of my father kept me in check.

Sheetal began avoiding and ignoring me, and I became suspicious. Eventually, I found out she was talking to another boy. Strangely, I felt relieved, thinking my troubles were finally over.

But then she did something I didn’t expect. She went to my father and told him everything about us. She accused me of doing something so heinous; my father was devastated. He didn’t speak to me for a year. His health continued to worsen, and as he lay on his deathbed, he called me. By then, I had become emotionally numb, a living statue.

He said to me, “Aman, I gave you a sapphire. My last wish is that you don’t keep it with you forever.”

Those were his final words.

Tears filled my eyes as I remembered the past. But I realized now was the right time to move on. We all live with our past. We all let it shape our future. But some of us learn to rise above it. That’s who I’ve become. Aarvi and Frenny shaped my future, not my past.

“Good morning, Papa.”

“Good morning, Aaru.”

She kissed me on the cheek, and I kissed her back.

“Aaru, beta, I have a gift for you.”

“But you already gave me one yesterday, Papa.”

“This is something different.”

I went to my study and pulled out a briefcase. I reached into the innermost pouch and took out a beautiful, clear blue stone.

“Aaru, come here and take your gift.”

Aaru looked at it and asked, “What is this, Papa?”

“It’s a sapphire, Aaru. My father gave it to me, and now I’m giving it to you.”

“But then you won’t have the stone anymore, Papa.”

I remembered my father’s answer when I said the same thing. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now.

“HOW BLUE IS MY SAPPHIRE.”