Till the Last Page

          I was looking forward to thrashing Durjoy Datta after a really brief, verbal review of one of his books, but there was a power shutdown that day and I chose the book of his which had the least file size and started reading it. 

         The plot summary of this book is as follows: A young medical student with ALS (the disease that Stephen Hawking has) and an alcoholic young man, both end up in the same room in a hospital and are treated by a handsome, genius of a doctor and a beautiful (read hot) female doctor. The relationship that the dying patients form with each other and with the doctors is the story. Really depressing, right? But, it actually doesn't feel that way. Ok, it does a little, but it's definitely not bad.

         I love flawed characters, but you already know that, don't you? Well, this book has only one seriously flawed character but the word flawed is an understatement when it comes to Dushyant Roy. He is a nightmare. He makes all the wrong decisions for all the wrong reasons. But there are better things to love in this book. For guys like me, there are two super-intelligent characters, one of whose hobby is to actually read her college books and that too of the second and third years while she has barely completed the first year. The relationship that they form are so beautiful and I am glad the right guy ends up with the right woman in the end (according to my opinion, that is).

           The characters are all beautifully created with the right amount of emotion. But when I look at the story critically, there is a huge template that emerges. The one who doesn't deserve to die, dies. ALS is merely a replacement for the far more cinematic terminal disease, cancer. Shows that Durjoy Datta just wants to write books and not scripts. I wish Chetan Bhagat had come to the same decision. I also hope next time somebody writes this kind of book, they use Multiple Sclerosis. That is even more dramatic at a biological level.

           As I already said I was looking forward to hating not only this book, but all of the books by this author because I seriously hate romance novels. But this one(thank God for Durjoy Datta) wasn't a romance novel. To be more precise, it's not just a romance novel. For one it lacks sex. Or, rather the dosage is lesser than usual. But seriously, this is a lot more to it than just that. Or, maybe I am just a typical Indian and I love a good sad sob story. Because there is a lot of crying in there. Even I got a bit affected by it but just because I could relate with one of the main character's obsession with books.

     Now that I think about it, I think I love sob stories. So, if you like sob stories or are all for romance and some creepy possessiveness, this book is definitely for you. I guess I can't find any mistakes with this book, which explains the title of this review. The dedication to 'Everyone who reads' didn't hurt either. So, I'll go ahead and give it a good rating. But first, a few quotes:

The hands of the watch on his cell phone touched. It was twelve—fourteen hours since he had been admitted. Last night, like many before, had been a night of debauchery, porn, poker, alcohol and smoke.

Pihu looked at the tall stacks of books lined up in front of her. Her lips curved into an embarrassed smile. She looked around and hoped nobody had seen it. Examinations were around the corner and everyone was stressed out and high on caffeine. Pihu was high on anticipation. She had finished the course. Twice. (You can see why I like this girl, right?)

 But the girls who dated him back in those days admitted that his charm didn’t lie in his wealth or his big brain. It was in his disarming smile and his perfect behaviour. Even as a college student, he dressed impeccably. Characterized by his crisp white shirts, traditional dark-blue jeans and white sneakers, one could easily spot him in a crowd.

 The hot female doctor. With a lit joint in her hand, a careless strand of hair wandering aimlessly around her face, she leant dangerously close to the edge of the railing. An air of unabashed freedom surrounded her.

In spite of the abundant money and the cradling comfort, Kajal grew up to be a very sensitive, simple girl with a magical voice and a penchant for reading. She never shopped, never hankered for an iPhone or that awesome-little-black-dress-for-the-party-next-weekend, and was never comfortable in chauffeur-driven cars. Her only loves were music and books, which she indulged in with wholesome passion.

Now, for the rating:

8/10 - Very Good