This one is a light, easy read, which takes a lighthearted view of life's gaffes and struggles. Mostly drawing from his own life experiences, Belliappa recounts engaging and witty tales involving his family, relatives, friends, and himself.
Whether it is his prankster friend, his golf adventures, his overeating hostel mate, his attempts to name a rare flower after himself, his building society's solutions to prevent spitting in building corners, or his umbrella that just would not let him lose it, these stories go to show that there could a humorous side to every story, and if taken in the right spirit, even difficult situations would seem easy to handle.
The last section of the book, Part 5, is all about Belliappa fantasising or dreaming about things such as going on a space flight, meeting God who is a golf lover, and receiving a clock tower as a gift. Since these are not based in reality, they are not as engaging as the other tales, and remain his flights of fancy. Having said that, his take on the changing power status of the thumb and the index finger since the pre-historic times to modern age, is interesting and thought provoking.
By far the stories that I found most touching and interesting were that of the Italian family and the Tamil-French youth, respectively. In the former, Belliappa finds himself in a newly opened pizza place, where the family running the place keep staring at him till the end. It is only when he hands the one Dollar note to settle the bill does he realise that they were eager to get their hands on their first earning since opening the place. The note is promptly framed and put up on the wall!
In the latter story, Belliappa and his wife find themselves stranded in a large Paris metro station. They approach a couple of Indian looking men who look bewildered when addressed in English. It turns out that since they were born in France, they know only French and their mother tongue, Tamil. Hence when he asks them if they speak Tamil, they reply, "oui, oui, aama, aama"! What's that called? Framil, perhaps?
Since Belliappa is a Coorgi, there is a Coorg flavour throughout the book. Coffee estates, dogs, winding roads, rain, and guns seem to be main ingredients of Coorgi life, and that's brought out in these anecdotes.
And I know what to say to a Coorgi the next time I meet one: "ningga daada?" - 'which family do you belong to?'!
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