THE BOOK OF EVERLASTING THINGS BY AANCHAL MALHOTRA

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BOOK NAME:  THE BOOK OF EVERLASTING THINGS

AUTHOR NAME: AANCHAL MALHOTRA 

GENRE: HISTORICAL FICTION

PUBLISHER: HARPERCOLLINS INDIA

BOOK BUY LINK : https://www.amazon.in/Book-Everlasting-Things-Novel/dp/9356294003






It's almost the year 1947, and the young perfumer, Samir, is bewitched by the novice calligrapher Firdaus' pistachio green eyes. They are young and very much in love that they ignore the burning borders and hope their relationship survives despite the smouldering rivalry. Only when their worlds shake do they face reality and succumb to fate. Samir realises Lahore is not the same anymore, and Hindus aren't welcome there. The loss, however, opens a portal to his uncle Vivek's secrets to him which is the only other thing he inherited from him apart from his art of perfumery. 


What can I say about this book? How many words will be too many words for this review? I am dumbfounded, and anything I say will still be short. This book left an intense gnawing feeling inside my chest and bones. I have never known partition other than from books, but why do I feel I was there? Why do I feel I saw Samir in Vij and Sons making formulation after formulation, perfecting his best perfume? Why do I feel I was there when Firdaus stood shattered in her room and looked longingly through her window? I was there when the houses burned down across the borders, when humanity failed, when lives were taken, when friendships were lost, and when India was split into half, once and for all. I feel like I was a witness to Samir and Firdaus' innocent and everlasting love in an otherwise cruel world. 




I could smell the rose, sandalwood, saffron, Jasmine, lemongrass and tuberose filling the air through its pages. I ached with Samir, wept with Firdaus, shuddered with Vivek and grew wiser with Anouk. I was in Lahore, Punjab, Karachi, Delhi and Paris all at once. As the name suggests, this book is about everlasting love, grief, memory and loss. This coming-of-age, multigenerational war fiction is glorious, sublime and ambrosial and is an ode to Lahore from an Indian who lost their motherland to greed and power battle.


Unbiased and narrated through the lens of a commoner, this book is filled with a fragrance of its own. If you bring the book closer to your nose and inhale it, you will smell the aroma of rose, Jasmine and tuberose combined, the fragrance of a newborn's skin, the smell of burning huts, of charred bodies, dried blood, royal blue ink blotched against an old preserved paper, of tears of longing, of freshly crushed tulsi wafting through the pages to engulf you as a whole. 


If you are still not convinced, remember that this book is the author's debut fiction inspired by her family's history. 



MY REVIEW: 5/5. I would give as many as stars possible for this book.

I am participating in Blogchatter's #TBRchallenge

#penbooksandscalpel


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