Review of The Bhairav Putras

I may have been a little late to put my review about THE BHAIRAV PUTRAS – A Suhail Mathur Novel over here, due to the hectic schedule i was being through past one week. Notably i had finished reading the book nearly a weak ago. But then as Suhail Mathur says in his book, “Letter Late Than Never” (pun indeed). So here is my Review about the novel by the Debuting writer of historical fiction-


Review- First of all I am not much into Indian History, though history being my favorite subject. And second, I am not a nationalist or patriotic soul. But then I grab the copy of this book and start to get through it. As soon as I read the first page of the book i feel that it is something perfectly blended with Narration and Dialogues. While reading it, Narration-lovers and Dialogue-lovers, both of them would be pleased. Story starts up slowly to pick the pace, it gives you enough time to make yourself comfortable on your chair, bed or anywhere you are sitting and prepare the Scenery of pre – independent India in your head. The narration perfectly makes a sketch of happenings and dialogues make you amused as they are perfectly written. To break the gloominess all the way you would find punches full of humor which would not let you get bored at all. The book kept me engrossed though it was completely foil to my taste, such a impetus it has. Conclusion of the book gives us a few answers which we often debate upon being Indians. The character of Robbins comes out too strong that even after closing the book it lingers in your head. The Book surprises you often and action is fabulous. It is a One-sit- read. Do not miss it if you have not ordered it yet, After all Independence day is just at the corner. Fill yourself with the patriotic fervor if you are a lover of your motherland and if you are the same as me, read it for the terrific taste of literature.


On Rain

Monsoon has finally arrived in North India. Finally there’d be a relaxation from the grave heat of summer. Roads of the cities will be cleaned up, trees will look greener. But only one bad thing which arrives with monsoon is Bugs. They’ll sit on your papers, creep into your hair and clothes, fall upon your face again and again and when the lights are off at night and you’re chatting they’ll jump all over the mobile screen.
Skies would be clearer some nights and some nights stars would be oblivion behind the sight of grey clouds.
Rain brings lots of things, apparently it’s one of the most talked-about season. For children it’s annoying and pleasing, depending upon what they want. Some will sing ‘rain rain go away’ because they’ve to go outside and play, they’re players and some will stay home and make paper boat to sail it in the waters, they’re artists.
For farmers it’s a bliss for their irrigation is mostly dependent upon rain water. They’ll rejoice and smoke hukka.
For workers it’s annoying. They barely enjoy the rain for mostly get wet when they go for work. Or even if some have cars, there is a flood on the Indian roads.
For youth it’s of the utmost importance. It’s the season of romance for them. They wait for this season to come, with warm hearts. Many will meet secretly and go for long drives and a session of romance will start at its epitome. And then there will be others, who’ll shed tears in the corners of their homes for it’ll bring them those drenched memories which would take them to isolation. For them the sky will seem to be crying along with them.
For married couples it’ll be the most sensuous weather. According to a survey most of the precautionary products are sold in august, worldwide.
Not only human but animals also find their own pleasure and fears in monsoon. How could we forget the national bird of india, Peacock. It’ll widen it’s fathers and wings and dance in the wild. Birds will tweet. Dogs and cats will hide under beds or shelves when the clouds will rumble. Elephants and big apes will also panic when thunder will strike. And frogs, they will come out and croak.
For them it’s the most loved weather among all of the living creatures on earth. They’ll sing throughout the season.
Sometimes, they will sing when they will be trying to attract a mate. “HEY! Baby!”
Sometimes, will sing to mark their territory. “This is MY Lilypad!”
Sometimes, they will sing becasue they know the weather will be going to change. “Rain!!!”
Sometimes, they’ll even squeek when they are frightened or hurt. “Ouch! Eek!”
Snails and earthworms will have their respective races. Snakes will freak out.
There are many other animals who could be mentioned in the list but these, mentioned above, are the most prominent.
Then there comes ‘the Poets’, rain will struck the musical cords of their hearts and they’ll decipher love and nature in vivid colors. Mostly these are the poems written in the rainy season which take us to fairylands.
Rain, however, is the most thrilling and wonderful phenomenon of nature. It brings colors to the earth. It fills hearts with hopes, desires and memories. It makes the whole atmosphere musical, if you just sit in the silence and listen carefully, every raindrop sings a song with its own melody. Things come lively, vivid, colorful and heart warming. Animals get united in a single downpour, in some kinds of rounds. Rain is the nature’s music. Rain, thus, is a thread which brings all life together under the influence of it’s might. Those will be fools who don’t love this magical happening.

On falling down

The worst part of falling down is the feeling of disposition, disregard, displacement and despair.
The plans, aims, dreams, vista of future, everything just crumbles in a moment, in front of you. You could do nothing about them. That feeling of helplessness and moments full of ruthlessness scratch your heart.
Your condition becomes like that of a kite which was supposed to fly higher but the string disengaged. It could do nothing but sail aimlessly in the wind, move where it swirls, pacing up as it blows, to a venture it doesn’t know the end of. Just a while ago it was talking to the wind its whereabouts and now the same wind is drifting it aimlessly. Slowly as the the gravity works, it lowers itself and soon it’s on the ground again. But the might of the kite, it’s made of paper yet it goes higher above the concrete structures, above the tallest trees, above the birds and above the hopes.

You, like the kite, are caught up in the same adventure. But the other view of the story tells something else. The string to which the kite was attached to wasn’t strong enough to hold on to the kite and even if it was strong enough, sooner or later the kite would come down along with it to the same place it was before into. If the string hadn’t broken off, how would the kite have gone on the adventure of being free and land somewhere else? How boring would it have become for the kite to reach to the same place again and again and come down to same place again and again? Sometimes, like the kite, we are set on the adventure where we lose everything we have, we are set off aimless. We feel the falling but it is a free falling. Same as the old string wasn’t meant for the kite, otherwise it would not have let it go, we too weren’t meant for the old place, dream or person otherwise we would not have broken off. We’re set on an adventure again, of rediscovering ourselves, of free falling, of rising again.
The kite attaches itself again with another string and flies higher in a new sky, same as it we too need to do the same. But to do that the kite needs to detach itself from the remains of old string, we too need to forget what it used to be to start again.
The kite goes up on another adventure all over again till it tears off.

When you fall down, you have to rise again. And maybe this time where you land you find something meaningful, something mightier and beautiful. And that something is peace for after every storm there’s a silence which tells that you’ve withstood it and you’re mightier than the storm itself.

As you start again, it might be slow, hard and tough but now there’s nothing to fear of as you’ve nothing to lose anymore, in fact this time you’re upto to earn again and now you’re stronger than what has passed. So it is impossible for any storm alike to break you again. You’ll rise again and this time higher, with new things.

You must restart now, now before its late and you’re caught up into the despair.


There’s a quote, ‘Sometimes you find yourself in the middle of nowhere and sometimes in the middle of nowhere you find yourself.’

We build our universe

The lush of oxygen
The red of hydrogen
Ignition of supergiants
Blast of gamma rays

The mystery of black holes
The tangling of wormholes
In the wake of goldilock zones
The reign of boundaries and religion

One explosion of supernovae
Where triggers the evolution
The example of co-operation
While dying of one great region

Look at the vastness of cosmos
Everything entangled in superposition
And you say that your neighbor country
Is pushing on superstition

The lush of green woods
The red of human blood
Ignition of neighbor’s houses
The wars of sword and blast of bombs

The mystery of humanity in holes
The entanglements of unacceptable lovers
In the wake of dying earth and holes in humanity
The reign of boundaries and religion

One explosion of terrorist blast
Where triggers of annihilation
The example of our weak souls
While dying of great ones

Look at the vastness of the earth
Everything divided by nations
Teach to speak the truth as kids
Defy it when they are grown

From the infinite to small
There are always universes
From the co-operated to divided
We build our universe
Yes, we thrill our universe.


Sometimes you feel that your eyes are wet yet they are not. You touch them, rub them, just in case, if there was some moisture. You keep on lingering over those small and happy moments which never took place but just in your head.
You drive your bike or walk, whether among the people or alone, there’s that one scenery which would never grow old in your head. There’s that face which makes you glad yet it’s not around, never around.
You tell yourself that it will never happen now, whatever those happy moments, which you mull over.  You say you are moved on, you are moving on or you’ll move on but sudden realizations of sudden feelings tell, you aren’t, you won’t. You know it’s over, you know it’s gone yet you think about, you dream of, you imagine making love with them, waking up next to them, walking with them and so more. You tell yourself that you won’t go back to them yet your own brain contradicts it for just a thought of spending a life with them gives it salvation.
You find an attractive face in mob, a magnificent personality somewhere, you flirt with them, show them that you’re around but no, as soon as you close your eyes you’re haunted again, by the same never-happened small and happy moments. His eyes or her hair, you are trapped in there and it feels good.
Years of waiting or moments, you know just that spell of those arms could grant you salvation. It’s not that you’re dying without them, you’re doing fine, making a good life, you laugh, you play but you’re not satisfied, not at peace.
Without love, there couldn’t be inspiration, neither arts. Because until unless your mind is amused and at peace, you can’t do things with harmony.
Yeah you believe that love is just a chemical reaction, just science is truth, maybe. But as The Script says, ‘You can’t find faith and hope down on a telescope
You can’t soul and heart in the stars
You can break everything down to chemicals
But you can’t explain the love…..’

For your salvation is there in that spell. Tens of years of wait but just that touch could make your whole life worth.