"Is ghar ki kya deekh(sic) bhal karain, roz cheese koi nai toot jatea hai."
Chef by Jaspreet Singh is undoubtedly one of the most stunning books I have read in recent days.
The relationship between a book and the reader is intensely private. It is never the same for two readers. With connections made at so many different levels. Touching various chords of memories, pleasures, hopes. And the sheer indescribable pleasure of reading words, phrases, sentences which are so wrought with beauty that it is as much with fear, as with anticipation, that one turns the pages. (Plus he builds into the story, the shameful corruption scandals which have over the last few decades, plagued the one institution in India that people thought was above it.)
Chef is filled with line upon line of prose which makes you want to turn right back to page one and start re-reading the book, as soon as you have finished it. The beauty of the words haunts you for a long time afterwards. As does the sadness of worlds falling apart.
This for me, was a beautiful book to read. And after a long while, one in the same vein as Roy's God of Small Things.