Read "The World's Best Boyfriend" by Durjoy Datta available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get RS. off your first download. Hate, is a four letter word. Hate, is a four letter word. So is love. And sometimes, people can't tell the difference Dhurv and Aranya spend a good part of their lives trying to figure out why. Read The World's Best Boyfriend PDF. Published by. Surya Mishra. Language. English. Format. pdf. Uploaded. 19 Aug Description. About · Support.
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Download The World's Best Boyfriend by Durjoy Datta. The World's Best Boyfriend by Durjoy Datta - Ebook download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read book online. Romance. The Worlds Best Boyfriend Durjoy Datta - Ebook download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read book online.
Durjoy lives in New Delhi. Till the Last Breath. Ohh Yes. I Am Single!. She Broke Up. When Only Love Remains—have also found prominence on various bestseller lists.
Many hands went up. In moments of despair when you feel like your best days as a college professor are over. The professor continued to teach nuclear physics to a bored class till the clock struck nine-thirty. Or maybe the professor just pitied you for the way you look. Just as she passed him. He looked up from his game. He was playing Temple Run with his phone held sideways.
Awkward first conversations had grown into fulsome banters and groups of students made their way to the canteen. You lied to get that position. The students had started filtering out. Tripathi left and Aranya revelled in her newfound power over the other students.
Aranya did not move out. He turned her down nicely. All of you will report to her from now on. The boy was still in the class. Aranya offered to help the professor carry his books back to the staffroom. Why was he looking? Was he mocking her? Was he disgusted? By the time she finished colour coding her notes. The seniors can be quite a handful. The boy was still there. I need to go. Hurled quite a few insults. Were you making up for this?
But you already saw that. The bastard was smiling. I heard about the little incident you had with the senior last evening. Her ears burned.
I just wanted to point it out. His eyes felt like spiders on her skin. She was hungry now. Another half an hour and the battery of her phone died. Another hour passed by in a flash. How could she not be better than him? She took little breaks to wipe the sweat off her palms.
She stretched her fingers. She left the cubicle and washed her face. So just leave me alone. It was tougher than she had imagined it would be and it was making her restless. Let it go. She whispered to herself. Her fingers had started to hurt by now. She took out her timetable. For the first time in eight years she missed a class. She put a reminder on her phone to meet him in his staffroom. It was organic chemistry by Prof. Her eyes were burning.
I have better things to do. Two more hours passed by. But now that you are here too. Not being good enough for anyone? Dhruv kept his phone in his pocket. Even TT? But what about your face? What will you do about that? That will always be the first thing people look at. Remember me?
The boy whose mom left him? The last desk? Lunches shared together? Your face tells me you do now. But I feel I will get to know more of you as we spend more time together. You might remember playing a hand in expelling me from school by lying in front of the committee.
I wonder how you won your debates. You called me ugly. I was as shocked as you are. Dhruv saw him peeing off the roof. The boy wobbled and sat next to Dhruv. He had let her be for now but she knew. The boy started to sing an old Hindi song. Dhruv heard the voice coming towards him and he rolled his eyes readying himself for another drawling conversation.
It was too calm. All of a sudden Dhruv heard the door of the roof being banged open and a tall. He started to talk. From the corner of his eye. Some seniors had tried to induct Dhruv into their groups. Imagine the beautiful Himalayas. The match in the parking lot of the hostel had ended with collar-grabbing and shouts of madarchod. Now fuck off. By the way. Your parents should have smacked you with a dictionary. I would totally go for you. Do you not like the female form?
Or do you feel emasculated in front of a beautiful. And if you had the boobies. Dhruv looked away. I can loan you some FBB porn. Where did you learn it? Gossip Girl? Pretty little liars?
You look the type. I use my left hand. Very 80s but still very cool. I love a girl with muscles. You must try it. A dying art I must say. The real question is. The juniors come together and prepare horribly synchronized dance routines, someone sings woefully out of tune, an unfunny fat person mimics professors, a boy in a gunjee does a solo dance performance ripped off from a Step Up movie without the dexterity or the awesomeness, etc.
She had cruised her way into the cultural fest organizing team, the IEEE, the debating team, and had turned out to be a professional ass-licker. Aranya was running the machinery with military-like discipline.
Things were clearly tense. The group has only five girls now. This is our heritage. Who likes perfect people? This is not IIT. We are the fucking upholders of average! I thought you hated that girl. Grow some balls and help me screw this up! So what do I do about it? As if that incident which scarred him for life had no bearing on hers. Dhruv had every reason to see her crumble to ash. They were now sitting at the windowsill, looking inside.
They have hired a choreographer this time. Just imagine everyone in sync. The choreographer, along with his girl partner, pirouetted effortlessly on the dance floor and expected the students to follow suit. No one was spared from her caustic tongue. Move those feet! Do it like he does! Are you pregnant? Then why are you so scared in the lift? The boy will not drop you and kill your unborn child!
Are you trying to get pregnant? Be sensuous, not vulgar. Dhruv laughed at this and the voice carried to the inside of the dance room and everyone looked in his direction. But wait! I remember you being thrown out of the school because of it. And before you go into reminding me about that childish story of when we were eight. Can we do it again from the top, please? Sometimes he would understand. But usually he would say never and ask the counsellor to piss off.
But the girl he had refused to move on from had moved on. Dhruv walked around in circles, looking for something. He found the perfect rock, picked it up and aimed it at the glass window.
He imagined throwing it, the glass shattering, the students stepping on it and. The bitch deserved it. He swung his arm and aimed, but Sanchit stopped him midway. I should do it. Let me have. Sanchit threw the rock and it went over, missing the target by a mile. The dance practice went on as planned. The professors were nodding appreciatively at the fine balance of fun and sensibility, the precision of the start and end times of the events, and the smell of the fresh bouquets in their hands.
The dance routine was in two parts, the first part was on the stage, pretty average mundane stuff, perfectly timed to bore people into a lull before the second group sprang up from the audience, a bit like a flash mob, and danced like their life depended on it. Mitra, the dean, who told her that he was proud of her. Mitra shrugged as if not wanting to answer. He was like the yeti or the Loch Ness monster—a legend. Before she had joined DTU, she had thought he would be all over the place—lecturing, researching groundbreaking ideas, patenting stuff, being handsome—but he was turning out to be quite a recluse.
Truth be told, ever since Aranya cleared the entrance, she had been waiting to meet Prof. She even had cut-outs of him in a physics book back in her hostel. She was a fan of his long flowing hair, the roundish spectacles he sported in all those newspaper clippings and his strikingly boyish looks. She had hired three professional bouncers to tackle anyone who misbehaved but she waved them down when they asked her if she wanted them to remove Sanchit.
After the events were over, it was time to choose the Mister and Miss Fresher of the day. The forms had been pored over by Prof. Mitra, a couple of unimportant professors and one fourth-year student. Aranya had initially wanted Prof. Raghuvir to be on the panel but he was unavailable. Ten girls and ten boys were asked to step up on the stage and answer questions before they could show off any particular talent. Dhruv was the seventh. One slip and he would break her. She had maintained the facade of being unaffected around him.
She had to maintain that. He had destroyed her life once. Mitra, mentally patting himself for his insightful questions. She felt her breath get stuck in her throat. Then he held the microphone close to his mouth and started to speak.
Objectification of both men and women is rampant, be it in television, movies or books. Beauty is defined by shades on a plastic strip, for both women and men, and by inches on a tape. Is that what we have become?
Are we not the most conscious beings in the universe?
Then why, I ask you, the boys and girls in the audience, then why, why would we always turn our heads when a gorgeous boy or a girl walks by, and not when a studious, ambitious, maybe averagelooking girl does? She had been looking at the projector lights, wishing them to crash on his head, but now she was listening to him.
If we were blind, we would have been better off for we could have seen things more clearly, for what they are.
So are you. Suddenly he was Oprah. Mitra clapped followed by the rest of the bench. Dhruv was still smiling at the crowd, and at the girls. Aranya stood there, confused, almost a little angry. Mitra to the panel, but the professors shook their heads. She has worked really hard for it. Can we have a huge round of applause for her? The auditorium erupted. Aranya looked on, confused. We slaved for hours together to perfect my routine.
Thank you, Aranya. A few boys in the crowd whistled, the professors nodded approvingly. But Aranya knew that smile. That fucking smile. He motioned for the music to start. An orchestra with violins and pianos and cellos and saxophones started to blare out of the speakers.
He threw the microphone on the side. Dhruv took a deep breath and started to sway his hips to the music.
The lights went out. A spotlight shone on Dhruv, it split into two, red and green and revolved around him, as Dhruv gyrated. Dhruv swayed his hips faster, his hands on his chest, slowly and seductively slipping down, and he tugged at his shirt and pulled it out.
He came to the edge of the stage and winked at the crowd and slowly started to unbutton his shirt. Now, he was looking at Aranya who stood frozen. Three more buttons were unbuttoned and he ripped his shirt off. The music reached a crescendo. He was stripping. No doubt about it now. It was. People gasped.
The professors were too stunned to react. Dhruv jumped into the crowd, shirtless, and started twerking and grinding like Beyonce on steroids. He grabbed his crotch and thrust his pelvis rhythmically towards the crowd. Well, at least partly. Aranya felt bolted to the floor.
Mitra, the laughing guys, the gasping girls, were one homogeneous mix in her ears, and while she was falling to the ground she saw him shirtless and laughing in his red printed boxers, the three bouncers tackling him and punching him in his face. Her eyes shut, thinking of his murderous smile, his bare torso and Prof. Sanchit had offered him a metaphorical blowjob whenever he was in need of one and a spare T-shirt. Dhruv inspected the bruises on his stomach. Any other day he would have taken them, but they came from behind, and he was distracted by the whitefaced Aranya.
I think I heard women come in the crowd. Oh her! The thumps of bass from the speakers started to filter through to the washroom.
They left the washroom and walked towards the amphitheatre where the DJ was playing pirated CDs of bygone hits. Most of the students were sitting on the topmost stairs of the amphitheatre. As Dhruv trained his eyes he saw a handful of students dancing out of tune. Sanchit was a masterful bartender but a lousy drunk.
They walked back, their feet unsteady, Sanchit struggling to light his cigarette, the lights of the auditorium piercing their pupils. I need to walk.
Dhruv closed his eyes. Hold my hand. The girls. I need to sit. He started to dance alone with his eyes closed and his arms in the air. The boys looked around themselves to copy steps from each other. Dhruv walked towards the crowd. It will be like Sylvester Stallone and Arnold after a long drunk night. Aranya hyperventilated. He filled the next with orange juice and offered it to Aranya who readily accepted it.
Having now recognized the man. Christian Grey. At once she was jealous of all the female reporters who got him to pose. Aranya sat there. Raghuvir asked and whipped out a cigarette. Professor Raghuvir. The man sat next to her. Vodka she guessed. He could kill a puppy right now and still look gorgeous.
She smiled like a silly schoolgirl. Not like a boy. He looked straight ahead at the students dancing. Like a young. He was handsomer than the pictures in the newspapers. What he carried in his right hand was a curiously shaped bottle. There was something very Christian Grey about him. He poured what looked like a lot of vodka in one and kept it aside. He was a temperamental. His reputation in the scientific community had been of a self-aware prick. A less talented man would have made a fool of himself but not Raghuvir.
He was an asshole. When these relationships ended Raghuvir was often found blaming a lack of common ground for the failure. He knew he would change the world. If he thought he was right about something. During the latter days of his illustrious career as a young path-breaking researcher it was speculated that he became a bit of a philanderer. Filed eighteen patents. Snippets of information about Dr Raghuvir bounced about in her frenzied brain. And it had been nine years since then. Forget about it.
All named after him. Filed thirty-three patents. Accidents happen. My room is on the first floor and you can come over. His slightly longish hair flopped around his head and he sported a three-day-old stubble. From where she sat she saw his face bobbing. To Aranya they were huge. He had these big black pools for eyes which no contact lenses could dull. They both continued sitting there.
He was a little celebrity in his time. That day. Shall we go? He still looked like a PhD student who lives in the next building. He picked up the bottle of vodka from the floor. Aranya frowned. Everyone swore and threw empty plastic cups at him. As per directions from the dean. The students were in their beds. Hope you had a good night. He found Sanchit bent over a hedge at a distance. The roads of the college were deserted. He had just turned a corner when he heard someone vomiting behind a parked car.
On the other side of an old Honda City he saw a girl. The music stopped. Facebook posts went up immediately. Dhruv walked around. The students had made the most of the time left—some danced. But thank you and see you around. You know what I mean. Dhruv turned. I need to throw up a little. Dhruv bowed and turned away from her. She sanitized her hand. At one point Dhruv saw her thrusting a finger inside her food pipe and try again. The girl fetched a little sealed bottle of water from her pretty-looking handbag and rinsed her mouth.
Quite classy. Dhruv did as asked and held her hair in a bunch while the girl grunted like a hyena while she tried to vomit. I just had a little too much to eat tonight. She was barely 5'4" but she had a flat stomach and very taut quads. Had to flush that out of the system. How would she know what he wants? Minutes passed and he kept looking at her. So she sent him a different gift every year. It was one of the many gifts his mother had sent him over the last eight years.
Fuck you. He had cried himself to sleep that day. As he picked them up. It even records. Was it because of him? He ran and got a pair of binoculars from his room. You earn my respect today. Once it was a paintbox. Every time he closed his eyes. At a distance. I know a guy in customs who can get us that. He watched them fall to the ground below and shatter.
He saw Aranya slumped over the laptop. He walked to his room and found Sanchit slumped outside his door. Were you sleeping? Should I call later? He climbed over him and slammed the door. While he walked back to his room his phone rang.
I owe it to you. Your voice sounds strange. He spent the night talking to Ritika while he clicked through pictures of her in twenty segregated albums on her Facebook account. The binoculars were beyond repair. Her Facebook picture was a bird.
Like literally. Snapchat and Whatsapp were discussed. Ritika was quite the blabbermouth. It was straight out of a movie. You have no idea what Dhruv did. She found herself on the same bench as Ritika whose carefully curated style could be called hastily put together and bohemian.
Ritika was a run-of-the-mill pretty girl—curly hair with a hint of brown in them. It used to be somewhat odd for Aranya to be in conversations where only Facebook. Needless to say. What did you expect out of someone like Dhruv? That vain bastard? Ritika had already found herself a group of girls in the hostel with similar interests.
They were nice girls but a little too silly and a little too obsessed with their own faces. She almost never had any make-up on and relied on the natural blush of her skin and the good fortune of her genes.
You should have seen his eyes. He has strong arms. Sounds an awful lot like Taliban. Will Dhruv allow you that in a few days? Or is it too radical? As she walked away cradling her books. I will not be able to concentrate on my assignment unless you tell me. Who knows? She continued as if she was doing a favour.
He held my hand though. You will really make my day. He kept me from looking anywhere. I beg of you. He wants to take it slow. The girls groaned. Aranya gathered her books. I need all of you to submit Prof. That bitch. I need a favour. She sat on the first bench with her carefully organized registers and books. This hardly looks like requesting.
Some sparkling examples of the Indian education system ended up copying her name. His knuckles were bandaged. She was the first one in class that day.
Dhruv stood straight and folded his hands.
Give her time. You need to ask for an extension of a couple of hours from Raghuvir sir. She clearly lied about Dhruv being old school and wanting to take it slow. Of course. It was too hot for that muffler that she wore to hide a possible love bite.
On and off. Some girls had missed breakfast and were still copying her assignment. Dhruv waved a middle finger while leaving the class. How did I get this wrong? You knew if you wrote it the class would copy it. Why would I! A simple calculation error? Aranya won. Aranya acted shocked. Dhruv imagined her rolling over her nice and clean bed.
He found Sanchit supine on his tattered bean bag. The room reeked of alcohol and weed and unwashed boxers.
He was watching it with such piercing intensity one would think it was The Shawshank Redemption playing on his laptop. I could have copied the assignment in time. He had told her he would handle it. I will be an asshole at the end of it all and you would be a crying mess. You will not get a zero. Trust me. For me as well as the girl I am in love with. He would have seen through it. The dirtiness is in their moans.
Instagram-obsessed and a raging bulimic. I think we should be married now. And what exactly are we doing? If your father was a rich businessman with a few gold. Sanchit followed closely. And I will tell you. Is it always news? Because you believe in him. There was no challenge. Check what he watches late at night on television. Just like I used to.
That my cumulative percentage from seven semesters is 83 and my department. Or a kid of a wayward celebrity. Talking of which. An army tank could have rolled past them unnoticed. But look. Check his phone. What if? Think about it. It sounds ridiculous if you imagine your father doing the same.
You look like the kind of person who could pick a lock. Check his browser history. Some write him letters in blood.
Women slit their wrists if he misses class. This thing is a chick magnet. I do know someone who can make a key for you. I have used the guy earlier.
Thirdyear bastards still steal my soap though. Is he a friend that you call him that? In first year I used to lose my key all the time. Dhruv threw a murderous look his way. Dhruv ignored him and revved the bike harder almost knocking Sanchit over who clung to him afterwards.
Things get lost sometimes. Sanchit trailing him. I have been told. Even your girl. Nice touch to get it wrong on the last step. And no! What are you trying to do? Have you seen her? She looks like shit. Dhruv walked in and started to look for the bundle of assignments.
I read the assignment on the way. I hated her then and I hate her now. The screws that held the latch came loose and it hung limply from the door frame. Aranya put the laptop down and looked in their direction. Dhruv kept the stack of assignments on the edge of the roof.
Political references. Doing assignments is out of my domain. Aranya screamed in disbelief. She walked closer to the ledge and squinted her eyes. He poured Vodka out of a bottle over it even as Sanchit kept saying. Dhruv waved the bundle of the assignments in the air. Eight years separated Dhruv and Raghuvir but they looked the same age. Stop talking in Internet meme language. Dhruv was leaning against the door. Dhruv looked the vain.
The anger is cute. In a parallel world or in a cheesy novel. With cream and sprinkles. And what if he did? Careless hair carefully done. But he is like chocolate. I hate you. Raghuvir continued. Aranya should have been angry. I am you.
And look at you. Despite the heat he wore a leather jacket. She had spent hours. I saw it! I saw him burning the assignments. Look at that blush. Do I make myself clear? Aranya left the room with a sense of victory but the feeling died instantly when she saw Dhruv waiting for her outside.
In a conversation between Tripathi and a wall. Dhruv walked out without a second look. Aranya blushed. And stay out of trouble. Good work. You will always be repulsive. I can throw anyone. I might be insignificant in the future but who on earth has seen the future!
And what about you and Raghuvir? Did he notice your sly smiles and your flushed cheeks and your little nervous knee shakes? Or were you just another of the nondescript girls who fawn over him? And yes. Go to your little. I will crush you. Aranya stopped. I will make your life a living hell. She said. No matter what you try to do.
You always were. Did you like read a book yesterday and mark out lines that you would say to me today? I have seen guys like you talk a big game and then crumble to dust.
I know you seek revenge for what I did to your poor little heart. People think of me as quite intelligent. She went on another one of her depressing crash diets that made her weak. Raghuvir led her to a chair and his touch was strangely comforting. She missed her dinner that night and thought of going for a run but settled for quantum mechanics instead. It was too embarrassing.
She had been avoiding Raghuvir too. Instead she would jog on the spot for thirty minutes in front of the mirror and slump on the ground. Aranya stayed mum and Raghuvir waited for an answer. Her class performance started to dip infinitesimally which no one but Raghuvir noted. It happened every few months for a couple of weeks. For the next few days. The positives from the story that demanded a lot from the reader can be the A fine lad, a scared girl, domestic issues, their lives entwined with bonds of love and hate but what will stretch them far or what is it that will bring them back together?
A godly friend and enemy in Sanchit, a story bathed in the college hues and horizon and the struggle to get your priorities right in live be it love, life or career. Only few of these things catch the attention. The book fails to recreate a vivid college atmosphere. The bankable entity being language is fairly crude and distorted and relies a lot on cuss and fucks. The entire sanctity of the troubled domestic issues and personal rifts being lost in the haze of volley of expletives and random nitpicking on each other.
There's no agenda at hand when it comes to the girl's disease so much so that it is wrapped up even before it folds.
The characters playing hide and seek which again looks abrupt and hollow and the shallow machismo of Dhruv relying on muscles and porn and masturbation and alcohol is a huge turn off. The book looks far from polished and even loses out in a scene where the phone is snatched away from Aranya and somehow she gets it back which is rather vague and inaccurate. All in all the book hell bent on recreating the yesteryear magic of college and romance is an entirely pauper attempt. The only riches you grab out from the book are scanty and rest relies heavily on crude and intolerable maniacal story line.
A lot more than that there's no concrete line of decency and expletives drive the book. A failed attempt at humor and a bigger failure at letting romance be sensual or starry eyed. An old wine in a new bottle with a wrong combo.
Feb 12, Shristy rated it it was ok. Few things you regret post it's done I have heard a lot about him and being an aspiring writer I chose for his book parallel to Chandana Roy's A Good Girl. World's best boyfriend Full filmy or like a daily soap. I mean there's no point of accounting something in pages when you can watch them on television There's always two sides Few things you regret post it's done There's always two sides of a coin!
It's not all bad about the book. Dialogues are good and snappy and One thing that I learnt is--what not to write ;: View all 3 comments. May 03, Thousif Raza rated it liked it. After a long long time i read a book written by an Indian author and now i kinda know why i stayed away. I have read Durjoy before and i loved his second book.
This one however is good, but there are so many inconsistencies in the middle, characters behaving in different way suddenly that no matter how much i wanna give it 4 stars, i just cant.
I like the characters, but the language at some places is downright crass. I'm ok with swearing and conveying your feelings, but sometimes abuses are use After a long long time i read a book written by an Indian author and now i kinda know why i stayed away. I'm ok with swearing and conveying your feelings, but sometimes abuses are used just for the heck of it. It wasn't completely a mess and i looved it at a couple of places.
But there is an inherent lack of coherence in the narrative. World's Best Boyfriend Full Review 3. Anyhow, Durjoy Datta adds his awesome narration into another college romance and sprinkles it with humor to keep the readers engaged. I enjoyed reading the book. Just if it had not gone down the cliched path in the latter section of the book forcefully, I would have loved it more.
Nevertheless, worth reading if you like to read the genre. Jun 26, Bookish Devil rated it it was ok. An Old Plot in a modern setting. Girl and Guy hate each other Hurl abuses at each other.. Hurt each other.. And finally they realize that they are in love with each other. This book doesn't even deserve a review. Worst of Durjoy.
Swear to God, I wont read any more Durjoy books. Two things were most profound in this book. Explicit Language and Sex! Nothing else. I don't even have to mood to write a neat review. Such a disappointing book! Pointles Poof! Pointless and Time wasting. Oct 23, Akansha Gupta rated it liked it. It was a nice book. I really liked the fact that no character was ever clouded by love too much to let go of their ambitions. I like Durjoy Datta books. Aw well what can ya do?
It's a good quick read but the characters don't do much which is logical. World's Best Boyfriend well try to find him in the pages. I like Durjoy's books and have read them all so I am well aware what to expect there. This was a good read but not DD's best or even better works. On to the next one "The Girl of my Dreams" Jul 03, Ritika Mittal rated it really liked it.
Jun 19, Humaira Shaikh rated it liked it Shelves: Dhruv and Aranya are two fucked up people, who find each other and fall in love. They fit together like hands in a glove. They complete each other like a missing piece in a puzzle. Dhruv is from a dysfunctional family. Hi Hate, is a four letter word. His father is an alcoholic and barely behaves like a father to Dhruv and his mother is having an affair with his school principle. Therefore Dhruv grows up to be an insecure, distrusting, and reckless and chauvinistic pig.
And hot too! Aranya is a daughter of a family who think that girls are a burdens and need to get rid of as soon as possible. They pamper her older brother and treat her like a shit-bag. And to make matters worse for her, she suffers from Vitiligo.
And for this she is forever made fun of and called ugly by every single person she meets. Including Dhruv, the love of her life, who laughs at her and makes fun of her the first time he sees her.
Aryana character is unrelenting and ever persistent to improve the condition of her life. They meet each other at school. They are meant to be, but circumstances separate them. Dhruv and Aranya are caught kissing in school and get into big trouble for it. Out of fear of her tyrannical father Aranya lies to everyone and says that Dhruv made her do it.
This shatters their innocent feelings. And changes there life forever. And for that Dhruv never forgave her! But despite their invincible armour. But is hatred the only feeling they have towards each other? Dhruv dates the hottest girl in college, Rikita. As a distraction from someone else ; obviously! And Aranya falls for a hot professor, Raghuvir! Who also has feelings for her? After four years of torturing and humiliating each other Dhruv and Aranya are faced with the decision of what to do with their life after engineering.
Do they know what they truly feel for each other and will that make up for all the hurt and pain they have caused each other for so long?
Aranya's resilient attitude and handwork gets her an offer from a prestigious company, and is planning to move to USA with Raghuvir. What happens next is a crazy whirlwind of events! That force them to relies what they have been trying to deny for years! And will they be able to undo the damage in time? I really enjoyed reading this book! I did not like the first book at all. But this made up for it.
This book had way more content. I was able to relate to this book due the engineering back ground, and college life reference's. This book was a light read. I can recommend this book to people who like sappy and dramatic, filmy love stories. Its definitely worth reading at least once as it will make you smile and have you remembering your college days. My Thoughts: After completed his " When only love remains and Till the last breath " i comes to this book. I like the author's narration of the story it keeps the reader holding till you turn the last page of the book.
No prologue No epilogue Author straightly enter in to the chapter totally it contains 81 chapters i think this is the first thickest book of him pages. Each a My Thoughts: Each and Every characters was perfectly defined and blended easily for the flow of story. Easy language , perfect page turner. Coming to the characters main protagonists of this book Dhruv and aranya.
Author portrayed and conveyed very well. I liked the way they hatred each other later they recognized difference between the word "LOVE" and "HATE" actually that is the main theme of this book. Sanchit This is the only character keeps you holding the book when you feel bored reading. In the whole book i liked the "Dhruv and his father conversation" it really means a lot author narrated that impeccable I feel that is the best part of in this book: Overall i enjoyed reading very well.
But compare to the till the last breath this book had not beaten up that. Good read and must read: Jun 29, Ankit Saxena rated it it was ok Shelves: It could have been better, though, there is something I have for his works. What he writes and the language he choose to through the dialogue through his characters, is quite impressive.
It is quite a different story then what he has presented previously. But somewhere, something there is missing. Lots of hate, jealousy, hidden love makes it a good to read and provides a complete support to its theme. Feeling so sorry for Ritika, she had done no mistake, left no stone unturned, but still had had t It could have been better, though, there is something I have for his works.
Feeling so sorry for Ritika, she had done no mistake, left no stone unturned, but still had had to loose what she desire the most. There I feel one shouldn't play with someone if they themselves are not aware of their feelings, deep inside them. Sanchit did a great job to filler. The main support to the story and its protagonists. Dialogues through him were framed so well and let you laugh, often.
In rest case the story is so-so. Not very funny or romantic or tragic but still it can keep you read till end. For me it deserves: Aug 24, Sumanta rated it liked it. The conflict between the ripped off, bruised, left alone due to a failed marriage, Dhruv, and the freaking genius with national debate record holder but shaken to the core due to her not so acceptable unique attribute , Aranya, is an interesting read.
But except for Raghuvir, and our protagonists, other characters lacks development. They seemed to be there only to support our main character. Ritika is there only to inform the reader how much she loved Dhruv. Sanchit is there to tell Dhruv h The conflict between the ripped off, bruised, left alone due to a failed marriage, Dhruv, and the freaking genius with national debate record holder but shaken to the core due to her not so acceptable unique attribute , Aranya, is an interesting read.
Sanchit is there to tell Dhruv how much he might love her, his arch nemesis , and finally coming to the rescue. No other character traits are available for these characters, which makes this book hard to read some time. Overall a good one time read. Jun 27, Aditi Dutta rated it it was ok. This seemed to be a 'Devdas in Modern Times' of sorts.
The F-word is the most commonly used word in the book. It has been used more frequently than the total number of pages. Towards the end it seems as if Durjoy Dutta himself was writing in a drunken state, rushing to complete it. There are mistakes in the book Also, all the male characters are obsessed with the lady's weight. Maybe the author This seemed to be a 'Devdas in Modern Times' of sorts. Maybe the author himself weighs everyone by their fat percentage! The book seems to be a waste of a reader's time and money.
Left me feeling disgusted. I am surprised how his books manage to become bestsellers? Good marketing and TV personality factor I guess. I enjoyed reading a durjoys book after long time Jul 28, Jayshree Sridhar rated it it was ok. So after reading around 10 books by Durjoy Datta which give brilliant messages in themselves, 'World's Best Boyfriend' book turns out to be a huge disappointment. The Boyfriend is anything but Best, I assure you that. Read more here I really liked it.
Interesting story. Easy and quick read. Aug 31, Sruthi rated it really liked it Shelves: LOL , I rly loved the Hindi daily soap kind of climax though , wish it had a epilogue. Hated Aranya's father. Well count Raghuvir too , asshole he is. Mar 08, M B rated it did not like it. Crap in name of young indian writing. Mar 07, Stuti rated it it was ok. Aranya is smart and intelligent while Dhruv is rude and arrogant. Somewhere deep inside they know they love each other but they are constantly fighting their feelings.
The relationship mentioned is literally the same. I somewhat liked the story at that time but it was quite unbelievable.