The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari - my take

Please don’t write something that you don’t believe at all. Still if you try to do that deliberately, then probably you will end up writing a crap like ‘The Monk Who Sold his Ferrari’.

Though the novel-name was a complete no-no for me, I thought of giving it a read only when I came to know that the author is an Indian. But honestly, I shouldn’t have tried it out. Only a person who has absolutely no vision can sketch a character like ‘Julian’. And the fact that he goes ‘somewhere in the Himalayas’ in India and returns back looking ‘half his age’ and that his seventeen year old colleague couldn’t even recognize him was a total shock! Give me a break! This guy has surpassed even the master mind of Ekta Kapoor in imagining things!

Well, after that I didn’t have courage left to proceed with the story, though I turned some more only to find some more shocks. Every page of it was like an episode of any cheesy daily soap – full of surprises at each beginning and ending of it and actually anything and everything was happening there.

The description of the mystery land ‘India’ was even more pathetic. Even the most biased portals of ‘Incredible India’ would be ashamed of those descriptions. And the language? Even more painful. Full of lingos and jargons, the novel looks more like a fictitious report on some nonexistent world.

This is one of the worst novels I have read in the recent times.