The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The minute I finished this book, my first book that I have read at a stretch in years, I held it to my chest, and waited for the feeling to pass. And, not just pass, but to go through my insides, seep through my pain, and befriend it's lonely ache. The lonely-shaped hole in my universe, at least. Beautiful, magical story which felt so real. Reading it during the monsoons, carved it into an eternal experience. I bought this book in college, so many years ago. I, finally, got to reading it now. I don't know what took me so long. Maybe, the book allowed for my wounds to settle before I could pick something of it's caliber up. Only if you have broken the laws of love, will you feel the depth of the pain that the author has so well conveyed. The Love Laws that lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much.
Page 326 had me in a vice-like grip where I, personally, had to go through some old personal trauma. I felt like I was Estha pleading to his mother, 'Ammu! Feeling vomity!' It just broke my heart to keep reading...how well Arundathi Roy could touch pain that had been buried so deep, through her writing. Her sharing of an inconceivable amount of grief, loss, pain, emptiness and all that darkness is so palpable, that you just can't miss seeing how much love can hurt. And, how we crave for the very love, that will end up hurting, yet healing and completing us.

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