Netaji Rahasya Sandhane

Each and every work of the author is an work of research. But this time he seems to exceed that in trying to bring out what may have happened to Netaji on and after August 18, "45. Written in a truly unbiased way, the author analyses the report of the Shah Nawaz committee, Suresh Bose's Dissentient Report, some investigation snippets of the foreign governments, some of the books based on the mysterious night and a set of interviews that he carries out at Japan. In a true style of the unbiased journalist he approaches the events in a frank truthful way and brings out the inferences that a logical thinker will. In doing this he actually hints at four different possibilities that justifies reason and remarkably matches some proofs unearthed in future. But while doing so, he, quite justifiably, spares not a single stab at the misleads which seemed to be purposefully effected by several persons for some motivation other than unearthing the truth. But there is a single complain that I have regarding two photographs that indeed needed references for validation, why the author was reluctant in furnishing them seems mysterious. A tribute to the valiant leader of the motherland the author hopes that someday we will be able to pay the due respect to the lion who fought for the freedom of the nation in the way that the nation demanded at that time.

Tree Tops

Tree Tops, in the Kenyan forest, had been the place where one day Princess Elizabeth ascended to it only to leave it the next day as Queen Elizabeth. The moved author who had been assigned to the duty of taking due care of the tour describes the hours passed mostly in the balcony where the princess was delightlfully engaged in filming the wildlife activities of the forest. Not only her and her company's courageous maneuver around the herd of a herd of elephants while alighting the Tree Tops is appreciated by no less a courageous man as the author but his feeling of privilege of guarding the royalty for one night is also apparent. But the best part of it is the description of the wild life at the salt-lick over which they stood which is as much lively as it is vivid. The portraiture could not have been more perfect than a film where the literal and real shades of the African jungle is picturesquely etched. Written not long before his journey to The Happy Hunting Grounds, though a bit less inspiring than his other works, it remains a timeless chapter in the series.

Kolabotir Dekha Shona

Kolaboti, nearing the horizon of her school life, aspires to become asports journalist With recommendation from his grandfather she joins the bengali daily Bangabanee as a trainee apprentice and starts on her course of collecting news from the local matches. But what she collects not only surprises her but she is shocked to see that many a talent is suppressed in fixed matches, points are shared without a single ball being played. She also gets to interview an ambitious family hell bent on making a millionaire player out of their little daughter by feeding her tennis day and night. The final shock comes when he finds a man of the age of his grandpa, falsifies a claim of an athletic feat that is forty years old just out of pride. Her shock is also two pronged when she finds her reportage on what she sees is either cancelled on the pretext of its length or is forced to be withdrawn from sources out of her control. But her belief in men is restored by a curious turn of events where though she plays a bit too rough but finds the true sportsman who keeps at stake every little thing he owns for the truth that he seeks to restore respect for the deserving though forgotten master.
With freshness of the youth the narrative is another classic that will remain enjoyable to readers of all ages. With his signature style of humour weaved in the proper places, the author makes the protagonist an established character for a sports series.

My India

My India is Corbett's India comprising of the poor of India who represented the great soul of the country. The essays in the book are about the persons that Corbett came in contact with during his young days and his days as a transhipment inspector with the railways - that chiefly consisted of the loyal labourers with the heart of gold, who varied in caste and creed, poverty and utter poverty, but working and enjoying their responsibilities harmoniously, That Corbett loved these simple souls is apparent in every paragraph of the book that dwells on the life of the poorest of India under the British Raj and under the oppression of the money lenders whose extreme high rates of interest overburdened the people so as to pass it along their generations. There is also reference to the cholera infested people of the neighbourhood whose only hope sometimes were the untiring sympathy of the villagers and the simple remedies offered by Corbett himself. He marvels at the innocence of simple Indians whose belief in faith is so strong that they do not care for infections and tend to the dying with sincerity on the firm belief that when the call from Providence comes they have to leave but before that no disease can be infectious enough to kill them while they are caring those in need. Days of hardships among these hardworking beings becomes bearable as the master with his hands shares the crisis in one situation when fund for salaries dries up from headquarters yet the people never lose hope for a time. Throughout the book, Corbett has marvelled on the simple life of the poo in India whose truthfulness orginates from the simple life they lead without expecting more than his day's worth of work. But beyond that another reality emerges which is the humility of this great man. It is very apparent that his people loved him. This is not due to the fact of the colour of his skin, but for his sense of responsibility to the persons who looked on him and his sister. That Corbett was as much British as he was Indian is very apparent from the title of the book itself. His unfaltered love for the poor of India and his duties towards them sets him apart from many. Through his eyes we can oberve an India hitherto hidden from us through the artificiality of urban life. That the poor of India, economically deprived, is devoid of greed, never for once forget a good deed done to them is apparent from the way they always look forward to repay his well wisher in the best way possible with their simple means and becomes his staunch ally, no matter what happens. Corbett also marvels at the mutual respect his workers, coming from various religions, castes, show each other that it actually becomes a harmonious unit that cares a little when a lower caste is casted a headman of a unit comprising of people from all other creeds. Corbett shows us India that we forget in the artificiality of the apparently modern age but that actually shapes the soul of this great nation through ages.