I, Romantic – Rajeev Jhaveri

Now, this is not a book I’d suggest anyone to read. Not that it is bad in a bad way. It does not figure in the Chetan Bhagat category, much less in the Durjoy Dutta one, but let’s put it in this way, for the 225/- that you’d spend on it, you could find far better books instead. And as to why I bought it, the reason is as simple as I didn’t know better and got carried away by all those one line reviews it had printed on its cover. They even got an US Army Iraq war veteran to say “A timeless, beautifully written tale... Read this novel, be changed...” How could I not fall for that, coupled with its promise of a doomed love story laden with enough references to “Hayden’s symphonies, Yehoshua’s poems and Einstein’s prose”. I’m so easily manipulated by book covers and things written on them. K

 ‘I, Romantic’ was supposed to be, in my head, a coming of age story about doomed love and big literary references. What it turned out to be is a wannabe coming of age story about filmy doomed love and forced big literary references. Along with a very disturbing explanation for Punjab being the bread basket of India (involves sexually frustrated army men and porn and self gratification and the remains making the Punjabi soil fertile. If you can't piece it together, good for you really). Also a rape of a mute village woman in which the narrator, being a young sexually frustrated army man himself, participates in wholeheartedly and the whole one second it takes for the listener, supposedly a ‘liberated’, aaj ki Bharatiya nari to forgive him.


The love track is so clichéd that the million 90s Bollywood movies that came before it running on the same plotline appear originals. Also the young stud suddenly finding his true calling while wallowing in his depression and Bunuel’s movies and Begum Akhtar’s voice and Hayden’s music and refusing to take part in the Kargil war and ‘standing up for his ideas’ in front of his seniors appeared so filmsy, it gives one the idea that Mr. Jhaveri wrote the book after getting inspired by back to back viewing of 'Rang De Basanti', 'Lakhshya' and 'Wake Up Sid' (all very good films, no doubt) and going on Wikipedia and searching all that he could of cultural big names. Because what’s better than a coming of age story? A coming of age story with generous mentions of European filmmakers and random pseudo-intellectual blabbering by the ‘intellectual’ female lead.


‘I, Romantic’ could’ve been a better book, with a better title. But it is not. It’s going to be a ‘major motion picture’ soon too, as the cover'll tell you. A book which appears suspiciously semi-autobiographical should’ve been more honest and less soap opera-ish. I just hope the author gets to write better books in the future. This one actually shows promise.