After previously reviewing Cyrus Broacha’s 8th Century BC treatise, which was a rollicking ride for me (I am kidding, I planked through the reading), the quest for knowledge pricking at the edge of my consciousness compelled me to begin reading the next work of Cyrus Broacha’s penmanship, which this time around, was the 8th century fictional-existential treatment of the lives of two mithrs, Sh. Karl & Sh. Kunal (buddies: as a term is a lot more characteristic of the 10th century than 8th century; additionally, historical fidelity should be ensured for better authenticated connect in one’s writings).
I enjoyed this book, like how I enjoy Praful’s explanations to his wife Daksha. With that deft comment on the entire body of Mr. Broacha’s existentialist theories, I now proceed to analyze this particular text in detail.
The treatise form of treatment of the existential conundrums obstacling the bildungsromantic journey of the two lads, embellished with a fictional storyline, seeped through digressive cracks in an otherwise jocular narrative. However, if plots were like woollen knit-wear, the plot in this classic text, would have looked like a fishing net for catching whales. The apparently flawed nature of the plot in this classic story, however, should not sway one away from the chief essence of the master-literateur’s writing, which compared to his previous work, however, was slightly lesser in its intensity. I speak of the plot in a less appreciative tone because the story meandered like a drunk snake with no in-built plot-shaping devices. However, Cyrus Broacha is known more for his authoritative treatises than fictional narratives.
Cyrus’ earlier foray into dense literature was endearing for its dosage of well-positioned ridiculous humour, which was segmented under separate sections and stood on its own strength. However, despite a promising start to Karl’s story, the humour in this case was so adamant about standing on its own strength, that the story took its own shape and the humour….well, it continued to stand on its own ground, reluctant to be a part of the story. If an author indulges in deep philosophical wisdom couched as personal rants, it is acceptable and amusing, but when the same is presented in a story format, the humour necessarily has to be ‘ligamented’ with the spine of the story, rather than appear as coriander sprinkled here and about as garnishing after-thoughts. Also, Mr. Broacha slightly overlooked an otherwise pardonable matter of developing convincing characters; doing so would have definitely brought more life to the jokes in the book. But that is a personal and subjective opinion, and Mr. Broacha would do well to continue breathing more life into his image as a funny guy.
The afore-described highly critical and observant analysis reveals that between story, plotting, characterization & humour, what really wins in this classic text, is the Savings Account of Mr. Broacha, which will be blessed with trickling copyright royalties. However, after allowing my subjective remarks to infiltrate this otherwise objective review (If you don’t agree, you need to treat your subjectivity issues), I would like to state that this book was a missed opportunity for making deeply analytical and insightful jokes on Bollywood because Mr. Broacha pandered to the popular literary device of employing clichés, which still continues to charm the minds of several readers.
P.S. I wish I could have really liked it, but it was like a 20 page Jokes-Book with a background story as an Appendix.
P.P.S. Some jokes were still worth the money, if the book as a whole wasn’t.
Image from here.
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