Bubble #2 – ‘I Don’t Wear Sunscreen’

Thanks Kavipriya Moorthy, the author of ‘I Don’t Wear Sunscreen’ for pulling me out of the passive reading trap, where i have been stuck for a set of months in a row,  with a gripping piece of work.

I don’t wear sunscreen‘ is a satisfying read with a sprinkle of surprises allover. The story revolves around a girl named Laksha and captures her life spanning from sweet sixteen till her mid twenties, and portrays a clear shot into a girl’s emotional bliss and battles.

While running through the first few pages of the book I felt like having guessed every next move of the characters, but the author had knocked off my ego with a rain of punches in the further pages, where i witnessed a unanticipated plot end. I believe the book’s highlight is its simplicity and elegance; thanks to the appropriate vocabulary. And the setbacks are the plot’s abrupt end and the frequent intrapersonal-communications. I fell in love with the book’s title when i knew the reason behind it through the book. However, I would really suggest the book for readers and it’s really a good read.

I Dont Wear Sunscreen_cover 1_rev7.indd

The book can be bought at Flipkart, Amazon, bookadda, infibeam, sapna and shopclues.

Author Kavipriya Moorthy whom I fondly call ‘Kavi’ is a business analyst, blogger, creative and fun filled personality, and most importantly my Paasa Malar – Thangachi. ‘I don’t wear sunscreen‘ is her first book and I am all excited about her next book which is in progress. Along with you my reader, I wish Kavi a very great writing journey and good luck.


Encounter #5 – ‘Two lines of difference’

I have always felt becoming one with the love of your life is a remarkably special thing. I was lucky enough to get united with my love, the June of this year. Mine was a super thriller love, since her dad is a stunt man in Film industry everyone who knew me used to warn me or plead saying “Machi don’t take my name anywhere in your love matter”. Somehow I pulled up all the courage that I had and approached her parents and got them convinced. We started our married life with a billion dreams. We were spending every moment like we were in a fairyland, till the 9th day of our married life.

My father met with a terrible accident incurring brain injuries, by the time I was in Kerala for honeymoon. We had rush and catch a plane to reach Chennai. It took 20+ days for my dad to show signs of consciousness. Meantime, we had to shuttle him between 3 different hospitals to bring him to safe zone. On the 30th day of my married life, when we were sighing with a bit of relief from the all the chaos, we had an even more terrible hit awaiting. We had to lose my brother’s life which made my family collapse catastrophically, especially my Mom who was the spine of our family. As a continuum, fear and guilt shadowed the family, we had to shut our family business. Fear and guilt took a great toll on my mom and sister’s physical and mental health; the shut of business threw us in a financial crunch.

My better half was by side with all her dreams collapsed and having no strength to take further hits. I too was at the verge of getting broke. Luckily I had a few people to share things, which I never used to do. One such friend, Suresh Balachandar introduced me two lines of words from one of his favorite books. Those two lines made a remarkable difference in the way I perceived the situation, it gave me enough strength to step a further mile. It pushed me to carry my family with immense hope.

We as a family are slowly recovering now, and I still have those two lines from the book ‘Puyalile Oru Thoni’ pinned on my table and mind.


“There isn’t a distance which cannot be crossed or a burden which cannot be carried”. (Note : Tried translating the two lines of hope)


Pebble #2 : R-O-S-E… Rose

‘R-O-S-E… Rose”

Did you find it hard to spell the word above?? Certainly you didn’t, but I did when I was in my Upper Kinder Gardens.

Yeah, a small flashback. 18 years ago.


A fine evening in the year 1995. In my home.

We were a joint family by then; a family of 10. Including 4 of my uncles (Chithappas and Mamas). The privilege of being the only boy baby didn’t work well for me. I was the target of all those angry people in my home. Whenever, somebody was angry, they quenched their anger by beating me off 😦 .

I could still remember that particular evening. I was doing something in my home and I could see one of my uncles, in fact an angry uncle entering the house with so much anger. The moment he entered the house, my elder sister sensed something was gonna happen. But poor ‘Me’ didn’t know that i was gonna be the victim.

He was so angry, and unfortunately his eyes laid on me. The next moment he asked me to bring my English four lines notebook. I struggled finding it from my clumsy bag, but somehow my sister managed to find it for me. He received the notebook in his hands, and turned a few pages looking for something. Finally, he found what he looked for i guess.

He commanded, “Come here..”


“Spell.. Rose”, this was him.

“…” I was simply blinking. Imagine a 4 years old kid in his half trousers standing with the very shudders sent by the commanding  tone of a ferocious uncle.

“Spell it, I say..”

“R… R…” i was looking at my sister helplessly.

The next moment, the room was filled with the noise of a boy being slapped and beat like anything. I was shouting, crying, pleasing… nothing helped at all. The Gods were cruel that day. My sister stood helpless, watching it all. When he had transcended a portion of his anger on me, he left the house saying, “I will come back in an hour… be prepared to spell it you bloody. Else, it is gonna be your last day in the earth”.

I was crying, rolling on the floors. My sister came closer to me, who was just 2 years elder than me doing her second standard.

She tried consoling me, but nothing worked with me. A few minutes rolled on, and she remembered that the uncle will be back in an hour or so. She thought of preparing me for the second battle. She consoled me and started teaching me to spell the word ‘Rose’.

I was sitting in the staircase along with my sister and practicing the spelling with tears trickling down my cheeks and chin. I was reading loudly, “R…O…S…E… Rose.., R…O…S…E… Rose.., ” and it continued for sometime, till I was thorough with it.

As said, the uncle returned in sometime, and he saw me with the same angry eyes and asked me to bring the same notebook again.

By then, i was ready spelling the word within my mouth…

He went through the pages of the note, and asked me,

“Spell it…”

“R… O… S…E… Rose”

“Spell again..” (with so much anger)

“R… O… S… E… Rose”.. oh man i made it.

He looked deep into my eyes and uttered those most terrible words.. “Now spell it in the reverse order…”

I looked at my sister with the same expression on my face and the room was filled with the noise again.


Bubble #1 – ‘The Prophet’ and ‘Me’

“What the hell? Couldn’t understand even a page”.This was my first thought  when i first opened that book.

I had bought that book in a ‘used books shop’ that Sunday.

I had just opened that book, and couldn’t get along with the words and the version of English  the author had used.

I could only see some mysterious paintings on one side and a cluster of mysterious words on the other.

The book was so mysterious; I just tried crossing a page and couldn’t resit any further; just threw the book away and went off.

Few weeks later,

Unfortunately the same book caught my eyes, with all my hesitation i took it again to read.

No use, threw the book again even before crossing the very first page.

It had happened almost seven such times (i guess seven, it could be even more.. 🙂 ),

but it wasn’t the same the eighth time.

Somehow, i managed to cross that legendary first page and i felt there is something waiting for me in there.

As i felt, the book unfolded an ineffable joy, beauty, wisdom and most importantly its own questions.

The book am talking about is ‘The Prophet’ by my beloved Kahlil Gibran.



The Prophet

I started adoring the book and its contents a lot. Ever since from then, i ain’t the same ‘Me’.

Every morning, i woke and read that from the very first page till a page more than where i left the previous day.

And even now, it remains as the best thing that I’ve ever read. I can’t write a review for that book, even if I try it would be like a blind explaining the beauty to an other blind.

It is a beautiful experience than just a book and i could see ‘The Prophet’ walking with ‘Me’ every now and then.

For those of you who would like to meet the prophet in ebook form :

With all gratitude…