I Too Had A Love Story
Just finished reading an extremely beautiful novel ' I Too Had A Love Story' by Ravinder singh. 'I....Story' is a true account of his own love life, and this very fact attracted me to give it a go yesterday. Though I'm not a type of the person who can finish reading a 213pages long novel with one sitting, but i must say that there was something special in this book that kept me spellbound until i reached its tragic end.
Whenever a work of art is inspired by its writer's own feelings, emotions and real life experiences, then it undoubtedly touches the reader's heart. And this one is like that: coming directly from Ravinder Singh's heart and reaching to the readers'.
It moved me thoroughly. Do you know what happened,while i was going through it?....well....for a time i was in Ravin's place, completely forgetting that it is he who is in the stream of pain not me, especially in the sections: "the unexpected", "without her", and "the present". Not only the bleakness of his pain, but also the brightness of his extreme happiness was working on me. The feelings, the experiences....simply ohsam! ohsam!...ohsam. I was fully lost in the sections: "closer", "face to face", feeling the romantic sensations and thrills of both Ravin and Khushi. This portion of novel was giving me the same goosebumps which i felt again, for the second time, through Ravin's mystical experience in a bus. I was able to relate and identify with Ravinder singh throughout the story. Impatiently waiting for the next phone call, little surprises bringing them closer, late night conversations, trying to feel each other in imaginations, longing to be together during rain time, sweet sweet addresses like:- 'shona', 'shonimoni', 'jaaan', 'baby'....delineating depth of their love, the happiness, the nervousness and the excitement of Ravin while meeting Khushi in person for the first time, the fear of facing parents, the preparations for engagement, Khushi's eagerness, Ravin's considering himself a lucky person, the tears and the smiles, the humour and the childishness, the accident, the pain, the shatterment, his pathetic condition, fake smiles which was only for family's sake and at the very end the little sweet girl 'Khushi' reminding him of his own 'shonimoni'........all these make it a 'read-till-finish-book' or i'll say 'read-once-more-book'. The pain that Ravin must be feeling after his beloved's death touches me deeply. At once following lyrics from the movie Musafir struck my heart which perfectly describes the soreness of his heart.
"Zindgi me koi kabhi aaye na rabba
Aaye jo koyi to phir jaye na rabba
Dene ho gar mujhe baad me aansu
To pehele koyi hasaye na rabba"
The very lines summing up all the essence of love, at once catches our attention :-
" Not everyone in this world has the fate to cherish the fullest form of love. Some are born, just to experience the abbreviation of it."
I can't help, but say that those who value emotions and feelings, should read it once.
( Apart from the pleasure that i found in the novel, i also got hurt because of the reviews. While reading them on some site, i was simply wonderstrucked. For my surprise, there was a huge heap of criticism on the author for this work, specially for its language. There according to some guys, it is 'a crappy work', 'a novice's work', 'a waste of time', 'totally bullshit'......uff. I fail to understand how can they say so for a work, which in real sense is not a work at all, but the author's real life on pages. Why don't they get it that while dealing with one's own love affair having a tragic end, one forgets all the rules and the regulations of an art industry, he remains possessed with his own overwhelming heart. There are only two:- he and his feelings, no one else. Neither fullstops n commas can hinder him nor any decorative word can lure him, at that time he wants to be the real 'he'. Though no doubt, decoration in words and style provides a richness , a texture to the creative pieces but this richness is nothing where true emotions are dealt with. Such type of embellishments can mar the genuineness of a work. To keep the dignity of a writer's emotions, i think, we should allow him/her to choose any word from any language, any example from any field. He should be permitted to insert the Punjabi in an English novel or the English in a Punjabi one. He can be funny at any senty situation or vice versa if it suits to his purpose.
In short, what i want to say, that we should respect him for presenting his real story with the minutest detail of his experiences, instead of showering any criticism on him.
At least for me its a good job, as i lack this very thing, ....i can't put the real me before anyone(haan, under some pseudonym i can as i'm doing here. ;-) )
Just finished reading an extremely beautiful novel ' I Too Had A Love Story' by Ravinder singh. 'I....Story' is a true account of his own love life, and this very fact attracted me to give it a go yesterday. Though I'm not a type of the person who can finish reading a 213pages long novel with one sitting, but i must say that there was something special in this book that kept me spellbound until i reached its tragic end.
Whenever a work of art is inspired by its writer's own feelings, emotions and real life experiences, then it undoubtedly touches the reader's heart. And this one is like that: coming directly from Ravinder Singh's heart and reaching to the readers'.
It moved me thoroughly. Do you know what happened,while i was going through it?....well....for a time i was in Ravin's place, completely forgetting that it is he who is in the stream of pain not me, especially in the sections: "the unexpected", "without her", and "the present". Not only the bleakness of his pain, but also the brightness of his extreme happiness was working on me. The feelings, the experiences....simply ohsam! ohsam!...ohsam. I was fully lost in the sections: "closer", "face to face", feeling the romantic sensations and thrills of both Ravin and Khushi. This portion of novel was giving me the same goosebumps which i felt again, for the second time, through Ravin's mystical experience in a bus. I was able to relate and identify with Ravinder singh throughout the story. Impatiently waiting for the next phone call, little surprises bringing them closer, late night conversations, trying to feel each other in imaginations, longing to be together during rain time, sweet sweet addresses like:- 'shona', 'shonimoni', 'jaaan', 'baby'....delineating depth of their love, the happiness, the nervousness and the excitement of Ravin while meeting Khushi in person for the first time, the fear of facing parents, the preparations for engagement, Khushi's eagerness, Ravin's considering himself a lucky person, the tears and the smiles, the humour and the childishness, the accident, the pain, the shatterment, his pathetic condition, fake smiles which was only for family's sake and at the very end the little sweet girl 'Khushi' reminding him of his own 'shonimoni'........all these make it a 'read-till-finish-book' or i'll say 'read-once-more-book'. The pain that Ravin must be feeling after his beloved's death touches me deeply. At once following lyrics from the movie Musafir struck my heart which perfectly describes the soreness of his heart.
"Zindgi me koi kabhi aaye na rabba
Aaye jo koyi to phir jaye na rabba
Dene ho gar mujhe baad me aansu
To pehele koyi hasaye na rabba"
The very lines summing up all the essence of love, at once catches our attention :-
" Not everyone in this world has the fate to cherish the fullest form of love. Some are born, just to experience the abbreviation of it."
I can't help, but say that those who value emotions and feelings, should read it once.
( Apart from the pleasure that i found in the novel, i also got hurt because of the reviews. While reading them on some site, i was simply wonderstrucked. For my surprise, there was a huge heap of criticism on the author for this work, specially for its language. There according to some guys, it is 'a crappy work', 'a novice's work', 'a waste of time', 'totally bullshit'......uff. I fail to understand how can they say so for a work, which in real sense is not a work at all, but the author's real life on pages. Why don't they get it that while dealing with one's own love affair having a tragic end, one forgets all the rules and the regulations of an art industry, he remains possessed with his own overwhelming heart. There are only two:- he and his feelings, no one else. Neither fullstops n commas can hinder him nor any decorative word can lure him, at that time he wants to be the real 'he'. Though no doubt, decoration in words and style provides a richness , a texture to the creative pieces but this richness is nothing where true emotions are dealt with. Such type of embellishments can mar the genuineness of a work. To keep the dignity of a writer's emotions, i think, we should allow him/her to choose any word from any language, any example from any field. He should be permitted to insert the Punjabi in an English novel or the English in a Punjabi one. He can be funny at any senty situation or vice versa if it suits to his purpose.
In short, what i want to say, that we should respect him for presenting his real story with the minutest detail of his experiences, instead of showering any criticism on him.
At least for me its a good job, as i lack this very thing, ....i can't put the real me before anyone(haan, under some pseudonym i can as i'm doing here. ;-) )
No comments:
Post a Comment