Em and The Big Hoom Characters ê 9

Jerry Pinto ✓ 9 Summary

Em and The Big Hoom Characters ê 9 ✓ ➽ [Reading] ➿ Em and The Big Hoom By Jerry Pinto ➲ – Gym-apparel.co.uk In a one bedroom hall kitchen in Mahim Bombay through the last decades of the twentieth century lived four love battered Mendeses mother father son and daughter Between Em the mother driven freuently In a one beIled suicide attempts and The Big Hoom the father trying to hold things together as best he could they tried to be a fami. Em and The Big Hoom is a hidden gem The humor and gentleness with which it handles the ever serious and delicate topic of mental instability and depression is a welcome way to approach the subject in my opinionJerry Pinto has vividly explained the condition of a person going through depression and how it affects the life of people who are connected to the said person He subtly mentions the 'dark' times when the person needs saving from herself the invisible ghosts and the world in general and the urge to kill oneself while behaving like a normal human being would for the rest of the time Suicide was a crime the only one where you could be punished for failing From time to time the author also challenges the faith in the Almighty when it becomes impossible to believe in miracles or the one who is supposed to do them when you know there is not going to be one I would have prayed to any god any god at all if I could have been handed a miracle I lost my faith as an hourglass loses sand How could one demand perfect submission from those who are imperfect How could one create desire and then expect everyone to pull the plug on it And if God were capricious then God was imperfect If God were imperfect God was not God PS Stop making sense of the title Read the book instead which will then explain the title anyway Although if you are weak hearted it may not be for you consider yourself warnedVerdict Recommended

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In a one bedroom hall kitchen The Big Epub #221 in Mahim Bombay through the last decades of the twentieth century lived f. I've known her Since the days when I was pudgy child panting from the summertime games grabbing the large glass of cold crystalline water right off her benevolent hand I've known her through those ritualistic morning temple walks with my grandmother buying radishes from her garden When she birthed three lovely children gifting them with her naivety of grey irises I've known her But she doesn't know who I am not any Not even my mother at times who when heavily pregnant with me relied on this woman’s help The peaches and cream complexion mislaid among the heavily sunburnt dermal cells the hair haphazard in monochromatic shades demarcating the fading cheap black dye Every alternate hour of the day tucking her flimsy end of her sari in the folds of the wrinkled waist she immaculately stands at the corner of the street fervently gesturing the obstinate transparency of the muggy air Her incessant ramblings never cease to stop as she makes a detour to her house and then back again to the street corner shaking her head in dismay at the unsuccessful symphony of her hands and the invisibility of delusional opaueness She has her “good” days and “bad” days and then those daily louacious outings reprimanding an unknown entity with the bus horn honking behind her “Poor thing she’s gone mad””Tsk Tsk what a shame her brain is devoid of oxygen supply”” What can her family do She’s a bit mental”The Indian Mental Health care system has three main terminologies in the layperson’s world “Alcoholic” “drug addict” and “madmental” The third one is dismissed as a mere infliction something that simply exists The bulimic anorexics are “mad” for not eating or puking bi polarity schizophrenia is just some “madness” post partum” the mother has gone “mad” The psychiatric ward at the JJ Hospital or the infamous Thane hospital is dreaded than submitting a blood sample for an HIV testing Disregarding the essential need to categorise the mental illness treatments majority of patients are shackled under a general psychiatric ward like cattle tied in overcrowding shed alongside alcoholics drug addicts for they are all “mad” The Indian Mental Health Care system is in shambles with inadeuate education imparted for the needy Mad is an everyday ordinary word It is compact It fits into songs As the old Hindi film song has it M A D mad mane paagal It can become a phrase – ‘Maddaw what’ which began life as ‘Are you mad or what’ It can be everything you choose it to be a mad whirl a mad idea a mad March day a mad heiress a mad mad mad mad world a mad passion a mad hatter a mad dog But it is different when you have a mad mother Then the word wakes up from time to time and blinks at you eyes of fire But only sometimes for we used the word casually ourselves children of a mad mother There is no automatic gift that arises out of such a circumstance If sensitivity or gentleness came with such a genetic load there would be no old people in mental homesUnlike the vile stench of the Mahim creek spewing endless annoying grimace I shall desist from the audacious display of my personal exasperation resisting the simmering urge to execute a meticulous anatomical bookish dissection Abiding the serenity of the humble candlestick lit at the altar every Wednesday Novena at St Michael Church and keeping my elitist biases at bay my apprehensions over Pinto’s prose coagulate within the blurry stream of textual insipidness Gratified as I am of Jerry Pinto for risking the unchartered waters of Indian Fiction dwelling on the neglected facets of mental health and suicide stemming in the narrow urban lanes of Indian diasporas humiliated by the medically privileged units and cementing the festering ignorance between the diversified therapeutic health care systems nonetheless somewhere among the crammed wordings of a lacklustre prose the uintessence of Imelda Em is misplaced pick pocketed from a substantial subject matter that could have been safeguarded by a well crafted assiduous manuscript The journey of Augustine from Old Goa to a burgeoning Bombay the vulnerability of a family in dealing with a system well suited for the moneyed fraudulent and mentally sound languidly jogs around hoping to find a decent outlet through the cups of Nescafe and a faint whiff of a beedi Love is never enough Madness is enough It is complete sufficient unto itself At times when I was young I wanted to be inside the dark tower so I could understand what it was like But I knew even then that I did not want to be a permanent resident of the tower I wanted to visit and even visiting meant nothing because you could always leave You're a tourist; she’s a residentAll is not lost yet Only if Pinto had found a better editor a smooth platform to run his thoughts and not jam packed like a horde of sardines parallel to one bedroom claustrophobic continuation this book would have been superior The incessant human lines at Breach Candy hospital needles piercing after numerous taps on swollen veins the phenyl reeking white floors of JJ Hospital the calming doses of Lithium Carbonate and the schizophrenic subsistence of Em behind the flaky walls of a small flat repudiate to be empowered like the gallant Marine Drive breeze through this half baked prose A bottle of Old Monk and garlic chicken dry however have a tale of their own So does the archaic Indian Penal Code and the nauseating attitude of Indians towards patients of cerebral maladies

Summary Em and The Big Hoom

Em and The Big HoomOur love battered Mendeses mother father son and daughter Between Em the mother driven freuently to hospital after her fa. Four and a half I propped this book up on the water cooler because I did not want to stop reading it while filling my bottle End of review