I don’t know how many have the experience of reading a biography of a person whom you hadn’t known. I don’t know how many have the experience of reading a biography without knowing that you are going to read one. I don’t know how many of you had combined to do both together. Unfortunately, I answer my questions. I was the one who did both. Now it scares me even more, I’ve exhausted my book shelf with only Mr. Obama’s biography pending. I don’t know how I’m going to read about a person about whom I don’t have much opinion.
For a change I read the preface of the book first, I don’t know why, but I did. I don’t know why I’m using so many ‘I don’t’ know’s’ here. Anways, the preface didn’t get me excited. I first of all didn’t know who Mr. Naidu was. Yes, damn me. And the fact that it’s going to be a biography like that of a son narrating, didn’t help.
Actually the only success of the book was how effortlessly the viewpoint changed from that of Sivasankari to Appa. She had written the preface in first person’s point of view. And in the first chapter as soon as the narrator says ‘Appa uyarnthavar’ and all that, I could immediately imagine a guy narrating a story. That was beautifully done. But narrative wise, nothing great.
- D. Naidu was supposed to be a mischievous child who burnt a barn and threw sand on his teachers face. These two incidents were brilliant and could have added interest to a story but as it’s said from his son’s point of view we don’t get to know the details of it, rather than a line or two. I guess that’s where the son telling story becomes a drawback.
In spite of that there were a lot of incidents like the one where he servers his guest with ‘vepan kotai’ sambar. That was hilarious. And he handing out his assets was outrageously awesome. All these great moments were told only in few words and only fatherly advises were given more importance. May be what Sivasankari asked in the epilogue was correct. I guess Naidu’s son would have been feeling guilty that he couldn’t understand his dad much.
His fatherly deeds to be quite honest were irritating, in spite of Naidu’s son telling a million times that that generation was different, this generation is different. Also all his daddy talks were like ‘Daddy’ in Varanam Ayiram. After a point it was funny. I don’t know why, for some reason I’m getting more irritated by him than the writer who wrote it in this way.
With someone as charismatic as G. D. Naidu (from what I know only through this book), one could have done something like Wolf of the Wall Street. But sadly Sivasankari is no Scorsese.