The book is written in an epistolary format, and at 112 pages, it is a short read. But within its pages are pain and emotions that will stir a cauldron of emotions never experienced before. Words, like water, can take on many forms depending on the necessities and in this book, the words take the form of a dagger. With each chapter, this dagger edges inside ever so slowly, through the anterior mediastinum region, and eventually finds the heart, especially when you read the last page.
The narrator is an unnamed boy who is born with a physical deformity, and because of this, people treat him like an unwanted mongrel pup. The author subtly attributes the cause of this deformity to the consanguineous marriage of his parents. The boy writes about his family, the harsh words his brother snipes at him, the valour displayed by his 'sannakka' when a couple of ruffians treat him like a circus monkey, and his love for his newborn younger sister, whom he loves a lot. He also talks about how his parents lock him up in his room whenever they have a guest, so that his deformity is not the sight welcoming these guests, and how he does this on his own once he realises what his parents are trying to do.
At this point, you would assume that the boy would be incensed with this differential treatment meted out to him in comparison to the rest of the family members. But he doesn't. In fact, he understands. He sifts through the tumultuous thoughts of his parents and finds the absence of malice in their love for him. He sees this as an act of love.
It is at these moments that you start gasping for air, and you try to do your best to keep the tears inside the ducts. He also narrates about the difficulties his family is going through. There are incidents with his elder brother, his doddakka, his hosakka, his sannakka, his father and his mother. The weathered family tries hard to lead a normal life, but they are struck with one calamity after another, till the last page.
And then you realise the true meaning of the title of the book. For this family, (maybe due to the nature of the parents' marriage), there is no true happiness. They will never get the full moon to savour, relish, digest and enjoy, but they will have to make do with only bits and pieces of happiness— fragments of the moon brought along by the gush of the breeze. For this family, there are only a few controllables, and a lot more are out of control, including small joys of life.
S Surendranath has written a novel that is a must-read for every Kannada book reader.