As the title suggests, Shobha's story is selective. She tells 'certain things' about her life, but not all. Once you remember this claimer, which very few memoir writers make, one trusts her.
In many ways, there were many things in her life that had just happened, she never planned anything. At school, she was good in sports but not academically inclined like her other siblings who later in life became doctors and engineers. Shobha was the black sheep of the family. First, she tried her hands at modeling and attained success, but she soon realized that the dog-eat-dog world of showbiz was not meant for her.
On a personal front, her first marriage failed but she survived the failure rather brilliantly. Again by sheer coincidence, she happened to be with Nari Hira who gave her a small writing assignment. With no particular education in journalism, she was to spend the rest of her life writing columns and books. She became India's top-selling writer and a popular commentator. In fact, her articles on film stars and politicians were–are– unforgiving and at times ruthlessly unfair. Maybe it is her frank, candid, and upfront approach to writing that made her the Shobha that readers like.
Another wonderful feature of the memoir is that one sees the 'real' person that Shobha is – the real middle-class girl who is not only a firebrand author but also an ordinary human being with ordinary concerns. One thing I like about Shobha's memoir that she writes excellent things about others. It was nice to read about certain westernized Indian actresses. Very often, popular actresses are depicted as dumb and ignorant. In other words, I like reading about Rekha, Zeenat Amaan, Parveen Babi in addition to Asha Bhonsle and the ace photographer Gautam Rajadhakhya. In fact, I was surprised that Gautam and Shobha were related. In addition, there were candid moments in the book where she talked about her professional life, the choices she made, and how she dealt with uncomfortable situations, both personal and professional.
This might be a strange thing to say that reading her novels and then reading this memoir, I understood her better. In fact, writing, I believe, irrespective of the genre, tells us a lot about the writer. As she herself claims that, despite her image, she is at heart a simple, conservative Maharashtrian. And this rings true as one reads this book.
One of the most moving images that stayed with me was toward the end of the memoir where she wrote about her father's death. She almost put on the page the entire scene; the loss, sadness, fear, logistics that death or dying unleash. In a few words, she made me experience her loss and everything else that she might have felt and undergone. Even though it was a highly personal, subjective experience, but her response to it revealed who she is as a person.
And of course in the real world, I see that person speaking, writing, arguing, making mistakes, standing up to bullies on a daily basis. She is the Shobha that many love, many love to hate.