One look at the title and you feel oh, another stereotypical Indian writing. I was going to bury it deep behind in the bookshelf. But a friend said to at least 'give it a shot'.

The first thing you notice after going down a few pages is that, the book is crafty. The author carves out anarchism rather wittily surpassing the dryness circling this very theme.
Clever and razor-sharp Mr.Pranav, the protagonist, scratches the reality as we see it. He unfolds our blinds and helps us get back to the homemade happiness save for materialism.

We run behind the unnecessary, he says. Or rather those things which we are told are 'obvious' for a better life. Advertisements, ever-so-creatively hammer the same in our brains. We define happiness by the number of products we own. We add weightage to the same definition by comparing it to others around us. And then we get a surge of joy with a smirk and a smug face showing off living a so-called 'better life'.
Thats what we've come to. We've become shallow. We are puppets to hands of shiny big things.

The protagonist, with his quirky moves, gives us one simple message - there's no joy like living simple, unadulterated life.
The books is induced with undercurrent of dark humor. ( )