Revolution Pages · · KB This book is available at quantity discounts for bulk downloads. Revolution - Love, Corruption, Ambition. Revolution Pages Shinie Antony, who remains the first reader and editor of my books. Anubha Revolution - Love, Corruption, Ambition. God who lodes after me, Shrnie Antony, who remains the first: reader and editor of my books, Aoubha Bang, for her suggestions at ail stages in the writing of this.
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Views 58MB Size Report. DOWNLOAD PDF e-shock How the Digital Technology Revolution Is Changing Business and All Our Lives. Revolution is one of the best selling noels written by Chetan Bhagat, who is one of the great authors. Download the eBook from below download link. Chetan's latest novel Revolution is a gripping and a fast-paced story of .. “ Revolution – Chetan Bhagat's New Book – PalzMasti.” Web. 5 January.
We drove ten kilometers outside the city on the Lucknow Highway to reach GangaTech. The guards saluted as the campus gates opened up.
The car came to a halt at a gray bungalow. It had a stone exterior that matched the main college and hostel buildings. We sat in the living room on the ground floor.
It opened out to a badminton court-sized lawn. Nice house, I said as I sat on an extra-soft brown velvet sofa. I noticed the extra-high elevated ceiling. I made it myself. The contractor built it, but I supervised everything, Gopal said. He proceeded to the bar counter at the other end of the room. Its the 4. You and your friends raided one, right? How do you know? Everyone knows. Weve read the book.
Seen the movie. We laughed. He handed me a crystal glass filled with a generous amount of Irish whisky. Thank you. I took my drink. Single malt, 12 years old, he said. Its the directors bungalow, but you dont have a daughter, I said.
You arent even married.
The youngest director Ive ever seen. He smiled. How old are you? I was curious. Twenty-six, Gopal said, a hint of pride in his voice. Not just the youngest, but also the most uneducated director youve met. I never went to college. I said as I twirled the ice-cubes in my glass and wondered how potent this drink was. Well, I did do a joke of a correspondence degree. It isnt a joke to open such a big college. Sixteen hundred students now, ji, across all batches.
Each paying one lakh a year. We already have a sixteencrore turnover. And you inaugurated the MBA coaching today. Thats another new business. I took a sip. The smooth whiskey burnt my throat. Do you have beer? Or wine? I coughed. Gopals face fell. Not only had I ignored his impressive business statistics, I had rejected his whiskey. Not good? Its Glenfiddich, four thousand a bottle.
Ill open Blue Label? Thats ten thousand a bottle. It is not a price issue, I wanted to tell him but didnt. I dont drink whiskey. Too strong for me, I said instead. Gopal laughed. Live life. Start having fine whiskey. You will develop a taste. I attempted another sip and winced. He smiled and poured more water in my drink to dilute it.
It ruined the scotch, but saved my sanity. Life is to be enjoyed. Look at me, I will make four crores this year. What is the point if I dont enjoy it? In most parts of the world, speaking about your income is taboo.
In India, you share the figures like your zodiac sign, especially if you have lots. He seemed to have put the question more to himself than me. His dark eyes continued to bore into me. His eyes demanded attention. The rest of him wheatish complexion, modest five-feet-seven-inch height, sideparted hair was reassuringly nondescript. Yeah, of course.
One should enjoy, I said as he cut me. Next year I will make five crores. I realised he would keep forecasting his salary until I demonstrated suitable awe. Five crores!
I said, my voice loud and fake. Gopal grinned. Baby, eat this, for I have made it, is probably the T-shirt slogan he would choose. Thats incredible, I murmured, wondering how I could switch the topic.
I noticed stairs winding up. Whats upstairs? Bedrooms and a terrace. Come, I will show you.
We climbed up the steps. We walked past a room with a luxurious king-sized bed. From the terrace I took in the panoramic view. This was a wasteland, all of it. My grandfathers old agricultural land, Gopal said.
Ten acres? I made a guess.
We had fifteen acres more, Gopal said, but we sold it to fund the construction. He pointed to a small array of lights towards the eastern wall of the floodlit campus. Right there, see. There is a mall coming up. Every Indian city is building malls now, I said. India shining, Chetan-ji, he said and clinked his glass with mine.
Gopal drank more than four times my pace. I hadnt finished my first when he poured his fifth. You big-city types. Drinking for style, he teased when I refused a refill. I dont drink much. Really, I said. I checked the time; When do you eat dinner? Up to you, I said, though I wished hed decide to eat right away. What is the big hurry?
Two men, one educated, one uneducated. Having a good time, Gopal said and raised his glass in the air. I nodded out of courtesy.
My stomach rumbled for food. We came downstairs to sit down in the living room again. Did you really go to the professors daughters house? Gopal said. I smiled. Love makes us do stupid things. Gopal laughed out loud.
He chugged his drink bottoms-up, then grabbed the half-empty bottle to make his sixth tipple. Forget stupid things. Love fucks you, Gopal said.
Thats harsh, I said. Is that why there is no Mrs Director yet? Gopals hand trembled as he continued to pour his drink. I wondered if I should stop him from drinking more. Mrs Director! Gopal smirked. He gripped the whiskey bottle tight. Easy, Gopal, you are drinking too fast. Its dangerous. Gopal plonked the bottle on the coffee table. Why dangerous? Who is going to fucking cry for me?
If I live, I want to enjoy. If I die, who cares? Your parents? Gopal shook his head. Successful people dont have friends, Gopal demurred. Raghav aspires to be journalist who does meaningful journalism for his citys welfare.
Year after year, engineers are being churned out of private institutes with meaningless degrees.
Bhagat satirizes on the directionless youth and parents who try to squeeze their unattainable dream out of their children. The book depicts todays Indian youth. It is yours and mine story involving all neighbourhood characters.
Chetans writings are so figurative that one can mentally sketch out his description. The sheer grace, with which he defined Varanasi, almost made the book a tourism campaign.
Also, Bhagat magnifies human thoughts beautifully.
However, there is rawness in the story. The book is full of unfounded aphorisms about girls. The end isnt impactful. There is predictability in the plot, stuffed with clichs. When you name a book Revolution , it is supposed to be ultra-radical, especially in times of Anna Hazare.
However, the book doesnt live up to its name. It delves deeper into the emotions of the protagonist forgetting the bigger picture. Revolution against corruption is only present in bits and pieces throughout the book.
The major chunk is a sardonic sarcasm against the education system without any thoughtful solution. However, we must pat Bhagats back for choosing to write on the most significant issue pertaining to education system.
The effortless narration and flow of the plot is also commendable. He captures umpteen human shades suggesting that there is no black and white, it is all grey.