Blog · Humor · Satire · The Indian Society

A Perfect Indian Wedding.

A stressful day at work, followed by an evening of cranky kids and a know-it-all husband! That was all I needed to break down and collapse. To calm myself, I tried my comfort food of dal-chawal-ghee for dinner. Though it helped a little, I still had tensions in my body and felt stiff. My latest meet-up with the mindfulness group had warned me to always look for any strain of stress deep into myself under such grave circumstances.

I breathed in and out a couple more times and tried hard to pacify the nerves . I knew a round of yoga before sleep had the potential to put me at ease, but was too lazy. So I went ahead and did the one thing that have always (well 80% of the time) had an instant soothing effect. “Call my mom in India” . Amma would fill me in with the latest from our village and the story of some one else magically puts the spirit back in me. Thanks to the Indian blood flowing in my veins. Old habits die hard.

So I put the kids to sleep and installed the husband back to his computer. I then went into the bedroom, closed the door, adjusted the room temperature, covered myself in a blankie, lied down and called my Amma. The familiar tone of our landline buzzed in my ears “Tring Tring Tring…” and I had already begun to feel better

“Hello” my mother’s voice was a welcome music to my ears.

“Hello Amma, what news there?” I enquired not wasting time.

“Neethu, we went to attend Bhaskaran mama’s son’s wedding yesterday” Wow a marriage in the family meant there would be enough tales to fill me in.

Atul, my cousin who is getting married lived 40 miles away from us in California. I had just talked to him a few months back. I knew his parents were looking for a bride for him. But didn’t realize they would find one so fast.

“How is the bride?” I led her on

“She was so-so” Came my Amma’s standard reply, who never gave exemplary credits for anyone. Her “so-so” actually meant that the bride was ‘very good’, but Amma just didn’t want to admit it.

“Is Atul happy?”

“Oh poor boy, he has become so thin. Does not get to eat anything.”

“I thought he looked rather fat” I corrected her recalling the chubby cheeks and the protruding tummy.

“What fat? He looks so thin and frail now. No one to cook for him in the US. Poor boy!” My Amma almost cried.

“Yes poor indeed” Agreeing with her was easy and I wanted her to move on.

“So what does the bride do?” I changed the subject back to the bride.

“She is an MBA. Lekha was very particular in getting a post graduate.”

Lekha mami, Atul’s mom had pledged to her husband’s family that her son would marry only a post graduate. This was when her co-sister and my other aunt, Meena mami, had disclosed in a family gathering that she was the only postgraduate woman in the entire family. Lekha mami, being a failed BA graduate, took this as an insult to herself and had vowed in to bring a post-graduate to her family for her son.

“Ahh that’s good. Why did they marry in a hurry?” I asked.

“They saw the girl three weeks back and the kids liked each other. Why wait for all this?” Amma retorted. Yes why waste time trying to find one’s soulmate!.

“Well, they could have gotten to know each other better Amma”

“Yes but poor Atul, he is starving there. He really needs to eat good food”

“Then he should hire a cook. Is this a good reason or what?”

“Neethu, don’t you know? Its so expensive to get a cook in the US” Amma sounded concerned.

“So is wife a free cook?” I asked in an irritated tone

“Neethu, it’s the wife’s duty to take care of her husband’s health. Why do you say such things?”

“How come the bride agreed to marry so fast?”

“Oh her family wanted a son-in-law in the US.” I guess there was another story of solemn vow running in their family as well.

“Besides she wanted to continue her studies in the US. So they are also very happy with this alliance.” Amma continued.

“That’s good Amma.”

“And your grand mother is so happy she could see Atul marry” My 95 yeard old grandma was praying hard to get Atul marry ASAP, so she could witness her grandson’s marriage.

“That’s wonderful Amma” I felt wonderful too.

“We missed you Neethu, Please promise you will be here for the next wedding in the family”

“I promise Amma, I will be there ” I said Good Night to Amma after all her wedding stories and switched off the phone.

Well, All is well that ends well.

marriage

1) Atul found a good cook
2) Lekha mami found a post graduate daughter-in-law. Finally she can hold her head high in the family gatherings.
3) The Bride gets to continue her studies in the US without worrying about the stay, and visa.
4) The Bride’s family got an American son-in-law.
5) Grandma gets to attend Atul’s wedding.

“What a perfect system.” Every one is happy and every one is celebrating. And
this is a foolproof system for 80% of the cases. God Willing, the couple will go on to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary one day.

And a time saver as well! No worries about finding a potential partner, dating and getting commitment from the potential person, or no hassles about arranging your own wedding. All you got to do is “Trust your parents!”

“But how about love?” I wondered. Well that will eventually develop when you see the other person fulfilling his/her duties towards you. After all, we brought the concept of “Karma” into this world!

A smile appeared on my face as I thought about explaining this concept to my American colleagues. A practice they will never understand, but something that’s been tried and tested in our country for centuries. A successful society that is driven  by ‘Karma’ !

With that, I found myself at complete nirvana. I closed my eyes and fell into a deep slumber in no time.

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Nitya (aka Neethu) is a character from my next book. The above article is from her perspective. Watch out for my next book, to know more about Nitya ! You will find her quite entertaining!

 

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Blog · Indian Women · Memoirs of Nitya.B

Retaining your Identity

I was invited to the birthday party of my six year old daughter’s classmate this weekend. It was the beginning of the year and like all mommies, I was curious to know who her classmates were. I was also eager to befriend their mothers. At the ‘pump it up’ where the party was held, I went around introducing myself, while the excited kids bounced, leaped and screamed.

“Hi I am Anjali’s mom” I was repeating myself for the 10th time to the 10th mom who like all others seemed very busy looking at her cell. I guess this is the only time the poor moms got to look at their phones and they were not ready to spare even a second. Some of them even looked annoyed as I tried to ‘hello’ them. Oh well, I had a clear intention and was not going to get disheartened. I resolved to meet all the mothers and planned to create a whatsApp group with all the willing mommies who agreed to share their contact with me.  Most non-Indian mothers had not heard of ‘whatsApp’.

“What’s that ? ” Amanda’s mom was puzzled when I asked her for her phone number to be added to the whatsApp group that I newly created for their class.

“Its a messaging app for smart phones from Facebook”.

“Oh really, interesting”. Replied most moms to my horror. And having no interest in explaining the profile of the app, I decided to stick to desi moms who I was sure would use it. After all half of India wakes up by sending “Good Morning” messages to each other in whatsApp.

In addition to adding their numbers, the curious cat in me wanted to know more about them. So I tried to strike a conversation with each one.

“So where are you from India” I asked mom#1

“We are from Bombay” Came her reply.

“Oh did you grow up there?” I really needed to know.

“No I grew up in Ahmadabad and my parents are still there. My husband’s family lives in Bombay.”

“I see”

The sociologist in me was intrigued by this answer and I went on to ask the same set of questions to the other moms. 6 of the 10 desi moms quoted their in-laws place when I asked them the q “Where are you from India”. The rest of the four moms had their husbands from the same town as them. So their answers really didn’t get included in my study. We were all living in nuclear families in the USA, far away from India.  All were educated and independent women.Yet when probed, their in-laws place in India was cited as their own. I went on asking the same question whenever I got a chance, to many other Indian women I met at random places. I extended my study asking the same question to other nationalities too.

“Where in China are you from?”

“Where in Canada are you from?”

“Where in Poland are you from?”

I diligently noted down the answers. The conclusion was as follows.

  1. 65% (Approx) of the Indian women (whose place was different from their husband’s) mentioned their in-law’s place as their hometown.
  2. No one I asked from other countries mentioned their in-law’s place as their own. All had a tale to tell about their hometown where they grew up. Some even talked enthusiastically  about all the cities they have lived in their home country.
  3.  When the husband was present with them, around 55% of the women from other nationalities took the honor of pointing out their husband’s place as well. A very nice gesture per me. After all, in most households the wives volunteer to talk on behalf of the husbands.
  4. Among those Indian women who talked about their birth place first, 90% mentioned their husbands place as well irrespective of the fact whether husband was with them or not.

We talk about equal rights, about bringing up our sons and daughters differently. We want an India that respects its women. But do we also realize that our daughters learn from us? Our core, our childhood, our hometown, our memories , do we change them to suit our life as a wife, a mother and a daughter-in-law? Do we make sure that we retain our identity after marriage? Do we want our daughters also to do the same?

Our childhood defines us. It lays the foundation for the rest of our lives. The hometown where we were raised, the people with whom we have interacted as a child, the house we grew up in, our relatives, friends all ground us. Do we wipe it all away willingly from the records when we marry? I say ‘from the records’ here as we can never ever willingly wipe it away from our mind. Our mind and memories are quite involuntary, beyond our control.

Some points to ponder:

  1. Why do we change our last name after marriage ? The name is one of the most crucial meaningful connection to one’s past. The name by which we were known, the name that the teachers called us, the name that was announced when we went to perform on a stage in school, the name that we so proudly declared whenever some one asked “Whats your name?”. Why do we change it after marriage? There are no laws, or rules forcing one to change it. Its completely optional. If we are at liberty, why do we change it ?
  2. Why don’t we put our last name as our child’s middle name. After all it takes two to bring a child into this world. Why rob them of  their second half by not including the mother’s family name too in their name?
  3. When some one asks you about the place you come from, why do you want to mention where your husband came from. Why do you deprive yourself from the sweet memories that flood to your mind on the very mention of your hometown?
  4. Do we request our husbands to stay an equal number of days with our parents as they do with their parents during our vacations? It would be a good practice to show our daughters, so they too would bring along their husbands to stay with their fathers in the future.
  5. Instead of selling our inherited property and using the money elsewhere, why don’t we consider holding on to our home or land we grew up in. So that when we are sixty five years old, we could have a birthday party with all our siblings in the same place as we were raised and perhaps play play hide and seek.
  6. Let our kids listen to us talking proudly of our pedigree and about our mothers, grandmothers and great grandmothers. Let their little minds take pride in their mother’s lineage and heritage. Let them pass it on to their kids as well.
  7. Why don’t we be ourselves, rather than characterizing ourselves as someone’s mother, wife , daughter in law? Don’t let the roles you take in your life define the core you. We can only be ourselves if are proud of our ancestry. And talking about it to others will only make us more human, more real and more spirited.

Let’s celebrate ourselves ladies ! Let’s celebrate our family names, our family property, our ancestry, our existence and by doing so, lets watch our daughters grow up celebrating theirs as well. After all, its none other than us they would be celebrating in our old age !

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Nitya (aka Neethu) is a character from my next book. The above article is from her perspective. Watch out for my next book, to know more about Nitya ! You will find her quite entertaining!

Memoirs of Nitya.B · The Indian Society

The significance of a Puja Room

Amma(my mom) was visiting us in California while the kids were having their summer break. It was a welcome respite for me as Amma would now take care of the cooking, go on talking sprees with me and share all the interesting news of our village back home and manage my naughty kids.

She also added a new task to their schedule and made the kids pray to God every evening lighting a lamp. Amma used to make me do this every day as a kid and the most interesting phenomenon for me then was lighting the lamp. I was fascinated by fire; its color, smell, shape all excited me. I would sit looking at the lamp for hours while Amma poked me from behind reminding me to repeatedly chant all the hymns. As an adult and a working mother, I never really had the time to carry forward this tradition to the next generation and Amma was not pleased at all.

“Neethu, please don’t bore me with your ‘I have no time Amma’ response. I want you to sit down with the children and chant God’s hymns everyday for at least five minutes”.

“Amma please, if you want to do it, please go ahead. But don’t force me to do something I don’t want to” Amma knew I was a stubborn breed and she left me at that.

But I must admit, I secretly cherished the sound of my kids chanting those hymns and I loved it that Amma was making them do it everyday. It took me back to my childhood and I could still smell the air of our village back in the 80’s. The kids too seemed to be loving the new ritual and looked forward to these praying sessions with their grandma.

It was the weekend and my American co-worker Nancy had called me for her housewarming party. Amma was rather curious to see how an American’s house looked like. So she too came along. The house was fairly big with substantial front and backyard. I felt very proud of Nancy’s achievement. She was a single mother managing three kids on her own. Nancy took me and Amma around the house and described all the rooms to us. Finally Amma turned to me and asked something in Malayalam.

Nancy wanted to know what Amma had asked me. And I explained that she is asking if there is a Puja room in the house.

“What is a Puja room” Nancy wanted to know.

Amma loved that question. For the next ten minutes, Amma enlightened Nancy (ofcourse with me as the translator) about the God’s room that every house back in India have. The room is dedicated to God, and we pray and chant God’s names in there. This brings in positive energy and good luck to one’s family. Amma concluded the lecture with “No home is complete without a Puja room.”

“Very Interesting” Nancy nodded. And Amma patted herself on the back on her brilliant, thought provoking discourse.

After three months, it was finally time for Amma to go back to India. The frequency of her reminders to give kids fresh food, teach them to respect elders, and to make them pray every day increased as the day of her departure got closer.

Nancy had called us over for dinner the weekend before Amma’s departure. After the early dinner, we sat in her portico drinking tea. Nancy slowly got up and announced “I have a surprise for Aunty”. She then came closer and took Amma by her hands, and gestured me to follow her. I followed as she walked ahead holding Amma’s hands. They walked past the corridor of her house and reached a small dark room on the rear side, away from the other rooms. Nancy switched on the dim lights of the room and exclaimed “Ta daa, here is our Puja room.”

“Whoa” I screamed unable to stop myself. It was a beautiful room painted white with white tiles on the floor. The room was empty except for a small candle in the middle of the room raised on a platform and a green cotton rug with white cushions on either side spread on the floor of the room. There were no images or idols of any deity, yet it felt so divine, so peaceful, so serene in there.

Nancy continued “Thank you so much Aunty for giving me this wonderful idea. We all need to meditate and withdraw ourselves from our busy world for some time everyday. You have no idea how much more positive and peaceful I feel after spending ten minutes in this room everyday before sleep. You have changed my life Aunty.”

Amma’s face brightened and glowed in the candlelight. She grinned as she placed her hand on top of Nancy’s head and uttered “God bless you my child.” Amma then threw a look at me and I knew instantly what she meant “Ha, You need to listen more to your mother!”

Back at home, I was bragging to my husband about how Nancy added a puja room to her house, thanks to my mother.

“Amma even taught an American lady in my office the significance of a Puja room”

“No Neethu, it was Nancy who taught me many things” Amma gave a deep sigh while we both turned in her direction bewildered.

“She taught me its not the idols or the shape, color, looks of the deity that matter. Its the human mind.”

“She taught me its okay to open yourself to new ideas, if it brings positivity in you. It does not matter how alien it sounds to you, or that it comes from the other side of the world”

“Finally she taught me, we are all essentially the same, We come from the same energy and we go to the same. It doesn’t matter what our religion on this earth is”

I held my mothers hands and squeezed it looking lovingly into her deep set eyes.

Image Source: Internet
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Nitya (aka Neethu) is a character from my next book. The above article is from her perspective. Watch out for my next book, to know more about Nitya ! You will find her quite entertaining!

The Money Lender

Book Review: The Money Lender Tales from a small town in South India by Manju Nambiar

Thanks for the review !

The Diary Of A Rolling Stone

Title: The Money Lender Tales from a small town in South India

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Author :  Manju Nambiar

Genre : Collection of short stories

Blurb: Short and Fun read! Truly Entertaining and Witty.

The book is a collection of short stories, narrated through the eye of a small town money lender. As the story unfolds, we get introduced to the unique characters in the town and their bizarre issues. How the money lender provide solutions to their problems in the most humorous and practical manner form the crux of the book.

My Take:

The book is a collection of short stories from the perspective of the money lender at Gulf Town, a small town in Kerala. The author succeeds in weaving  great stories based on turmoil of relationships of people in this small town with the money lender in a pivotal role. Most of the stories are a small pack of…

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Memoirs of Nitya.B · The Indian Society

Untold story of Indian Women – The one who really rule!

5e78e750772199.5608922f8f6ba“Hey enjoy your vacation” My colleague wished me on my last day at work before I went on my month long vacation.  She was a Caucasian from San Diego, who joined our office two months back.

“Hey Thank You Claudia” I loved this feeling. My last day @ work before my vacation to my home land.

“Where are you going?” Claudia was curious.

“Oh to India” I said gleaming. The very word ‘India’ warmed me up with tons of memories. An influx of images of parents, friends, cousins , uncles, and aunties flashed in my head.

“Oh dear, Please Stay Safe”. She remarked tilting her head at 30 deg angle, putting her right hand on to her heart , with a concerned look on her face. And before I could answer, we were interrupted by her teammate. Now needless to say I was a little perturbed by her reaction.  What in the world was that ?

I went back to my office to finish some uncompleted tasks and spent the rest of the day with many co-workers, discussing and delegating tasks for the period I was away. The meetings ended with wishing me on my journey, and statutory warnings.

“Take care of yourself and your daughter”

“Is your husband coming with you? Try not to go out by yourself in India”

“Do you live near Delhi?”

“Oh my God Nitya! You sure you want to stay there for that long?”

I have been with the firm for the past 8 years and have shared an extremely close relation with both men and women in the office. So I am sure they meant well for me. However I was the only Indian in my office at California. We were as cosmopolitan as we could get with varied ethnicity working in a closely knit group. And we were all infested with the Californian Liberal Bug. We stood for feminism, LGBT, democrats, handicapped, you name it.

By the time I had reached home my mood was bitter and sour.

“What is wrong with every one? Why do they think India is so bad for women” I exclaimed to my hubby who looked busy trying to change my baby’s diapers.

“Well you cant really blame them. The entire media was flushed with the Nirbhaya case. Even the CNN reported it for days.”

“But that’s just a one off case, the whole of India is not like that. I grew up there and I turned  out to be just fine”

“Yes you turned out fine, but probably many didn’t. Don’t you read the newspapers? Every 15 minute a woman is raped in India.”

“Yes, I do and believe me, I am with the victims. But that doesn’t explain why we should term the whole country as unfit for women, esp when it has given birth to many efficient women leaders”

“Ya right ! There is even a wiki page titled ‘Rape in India’. You can’t really blame the westerners if they feel scared, esp when the internet and media equalizes India to Rape.

“But we are also the ones who still worship women, We have women Goddesses. The society places them in the highest pedestal …..”

“You should try explaining this to your colleagues, not me!” He moved to the other room with the baby and I was not a happy person. We reached India and I made it a point to observe the womanhood around me, studying them, talking to them, understanding their concerns. I wanted to help the so called poor oppressed women at my homes. I wanted to lecture them on feminism, of what it means to stand shoulder to shoulder with men, of why we should fight for our equal rights. After all we constitute 50% of the one billion population.

No one really seemed interested in my lecture. To make it worse I overheard my mother-in-law talking to her sister “Oh she is so lucky to live in the US. All because she married my son and look she is not even grateful”.

My cousins seemed upset when I gave them a bag of Kit-Kat chocolate. “Oh didi, you bring only this chocolate bag when you come down. You must be making loads of dollars there. Get us an Apple Iphone no next time, please didi”

My own mom said “Oh you are so lucky to get such a good husband who eats the same food for lunch and dinner. You just have to cook once a day. When I was your age, I had to make your dad fresh authentic food four times a day”

I must add here, I and my husband belong to urban middle class families in India. We are not the richie rich that you would so often see in Bollywood movies, but definitely not the poor downtrodden community too from the Hollywood movies based in India. Most of our relatives hold decent positions in the government/cooperates and I believe per the latest statistics, the middle class constituted around 30% of the Indian population.

The pros of US life and cons of Indian are well discussed cliched topics. But any place in the world have both good and bad aspects. Yes I understand the harrowing epidemic of rape and the intolerable attitude of some men towards women in public. But despite this, I am trying to dig out out the cons of US and the pros of staying back in India for its women. So here goes the result of my study of the fellow women in India, that the NRI’s so enviously look at during our customary vacation.

For all my fellow women in India: our life here in the US is not really as you perceive. NRI lifestyle displayed in Bollywood movies should not be your reference material.

For all my fellow women in the US: No, Not all men in India are bad and Women do get to relax and live a life of luxury there.

My disclaimer: I am comparing facts with families in India with similar profiles of those in the US  i.e professionals and doctors leaning towards the upper middle class. 

Indian Women in India (The Pros)family_portrait_eb Indian Women in the US (The Cons)1497056551952
Fatness is akin to health in most places in India. The more round you are, the more rich you are, the better your husband is taking care of you and the more fertile you are. So eat-on fellow ladies! Body shaming is ingrained in the culture. Of course we are all politically correct in this country ain’t we? We don’t voice it out on anyone’s face. But a look, a subtle comment, and tons of articles on the internet and the heart-breaking picture of that petite, thin, cutesy girl at the gym will make you want to hang yourself. Not to mention the immense guilt we feel with each bite of that white basmati rice.
Oh your father, brother, husband, uncles, son, male friends, basically every single Y chromosome in your family and friends look after your wellbeing. They are trained to accompany their ladies everywhere, even at 7 pm (the darkest and the most dangerous hour of the day). They drive you around. They get your groceries for you after it gets dark. They take the kids for all the evening classes. They take it on their shoulders to protect you from the wild society out there. Oh please, these women want equal rights. They can do all these chores by themselves. Besides this is such a safe country. The wife can even buy the milk at midnight all by herself while the husband catches up on the latest episode of GoT.
The society and family is more lenient towards women if you decide to leave your job after marriage, even before kids, for what ever reason. After all, they are married now and family and their husband’s health becomes their No.1 priority. Who can possibly push a woman to work under such grave circumstances? Financial contribution can lie solely on the man’s shoulders and the man and his family should take pride in it. Expectation of the society from a person is based on his/her gender. Women are no less than men in any area of life. The expectation from a person does not have much to do with the gender in a society like this. The flip side of it among the desi community here is along with the newly added expectation, you have to fulfill all that is expected of a wife/mother in India as well.

US is a very expensive place to live in. Please see to it that you put in 50% share of the finance at home. Not to mention the fear of losing your status if you are on H1B. Leaving your job is not even an option and its only your karma to be a good Indian mother/wife.

There is too much house work. Naturally you can’t expect the lady of the house to bear it all on herself. She needs to have maids. One maid for cleaning, one maid for cooking, a gardener and for those days where husbands are not available a driver too are the basic essentials of an average household. After all, when visitors come, the house needs to look neat and well maintained. The lady of the house is finding it so hard to manage all these maids. You have no clue how hard it is to run a household. Yes there is the same amount of house work in an Indian household even if you are living in the US. We still eat the same Indian food and try to uphold our culture (we need to teach our kids to be Indian, don’t we?) No maids here and your Indian hubby has been trained by his mother to not lend a helping hand to his wife. Besides, if the mother-in-law is visiting, what is she going to think? A job that’s shared by four different wokers in India lies solely on the hands of the Indian engineer daughter-in-law in the US.
And she shall live up to it !
And last but not the least, you get to frequent your parents place. The warm touch of your mom’s hands or a few lines of comfort from your dad can instantly wipe away your tears and fears. You are rejuvenated in a jiffy and can return back fully charged. No parents, No support. Parents are far away in India. You are lucky if you happen to have a girlfriend nearby whom you can connect to. The onus is on you to recharge yourself. You meditate, go for Zumba classes, you breathe in and out, deeply and more deeply and try very hard to get back your lost charge.

“Whatever it is, You are very lucky you are getting to enjoy a better standard of living in the US”

“She doesn’t need to take care of her elders. Enjoying by herself in the US”

As I ignored these comments from the lovely women in the family, I realized that “Grass is always greener on the other side”

PS: By this article, I did not intent to hurt the sentiments of any one. Making a blanket statement is not my intention as well.

Just wanted to put it out there that there is good and bad in every place. Not everything is rosy in US and not everything is laborious and unsafe in India. Added a little satire and humor from my end to make it a light read. Thanks for reading!

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Nitya is a character from my next book. The above article is from her perspective. Watch out for my next book, to know more about Nitya ! You will find her quite entertaining!

Please like the article and follow my blog.

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Continue reading “Untold story of Indian Women – The one who really rule!”

Book Reviews · The Money Lender

Thank You for accepting my debut Book !

A big Thank you for reading and accepting my debut book.

I have had a racing mind since childhood, which does all kinds of analysis, interpretations and conclusions of everyday mundane events. But have always held my tongue tight for the fear of sounding politically incorrect. I discovered writing to be a perfect platform where I got to finally vocalize my thoughts and ideas.

It was indeed very encouraging when the readers gave wonderful positive reviews after reading my book. I finally felt accepted. I finally felt that there are many who think like me . And I finally felt that I am not as weird as I thought myself to be.

A Big Thank you again for accepting me and my work !

For those yet to read this funny read, here is the link:

The Money Lender

The Money Lender

 

This is my debut book. A collection of short stories from a small town in the state of Kerala. The town is interestingly christened ‘Gulf Town’ owing to the large mass of people from the town who earns their living working in the Gulf countries.

I have tried to portray some close to life characters, their interesting conundrums and have provided some hilarious yet practical solutions to their heartache. The stories are narrated through the eyes of the local money lender who plays an integral role in their lives.

With its own flavor of humor and satire, these characters would remind you of some one you know, some one next door or may reflect your own inner self.

I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I did writing this. Please send your thoughts and suggestions to getmanjunambiar@gmail.com. Looking forward to hearing from you.

Here is the amazon link to my book: