The first critique of “Forget”

I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: a writer thrives on feedback. I know some of you are too reticent to make a comment or two, perhaps not wanting to hurt my feelings, or even ruffle a few feathers. But negative criticism (and I’m using the word “criticism” in the strictest literary sense) is also a good thing, for, as TS Eliot would have it: “ Honest criticism and sensitive appreciation is directed not upon the poet but upon the poetry”. This rings true, even today, though there are ways of getting around the honesty, as I will now demonstrate. A foreign critic, commenting on one of India’s novelists, said that the book “Coolie” was “not too bad”. Anyone with even a smattering of English would know that the exact opposite of “not too bad” is “not too good”! But the writer, and the publisher, thought it was honest criticism, having, I imagine, never heard of “tongue in cheek” innuendo. Fortunately, no one read between the lines; if no offence is taken, it can be taken for granted that none was given.

Well, what is “honest criticism”? What I am offering you today is, to my mind, the genuine thing. This letter was sent to me through WhatsApp, and I am reproducing it verbatim. First, let me thank the young friend who obliged me by writing it—the first of many more, I hope. He wrote:

“Hi … , I read your book. I am writing to you as a reader and reviewer of your book about your late father, Alexander Peppin.

I initially thought this book would be more of an autobiography of your late father, but it turned out to be a wonderful journal on World War II.

I am not a literary person, and I must admit that this book is truly a work of art. I had to go through it slowly to appreciate the high quality of the English.

This is a beautiful tribute from a son to his heroic father— one who never wanted to brag about his achievements as a soldier. I was expecting some action, and I was pleasantly surprised to find none.

I am the son of a soldier who participated in the 1971 Indo-Pak war, and he shared some of his war experiences which excited me a lot. I was surprised to learn that your father went through World War II, yet never had the chance-or perhaps never chose-to share, his experiences with anyone.

I don’t think I would be able to write a book about my own father, as I don’t have that particular gift. I feel a bit jealous of you for that, and a little disappointed in myself for my own limitations in this regard.

I truly appreciate the content of this book and how it made me think about what heroism really means. I came to understand that heroes are not born, but made. One doesn’t need to be a significant person to be a hero-it is the moment that matters, sometimes small or even unreasonable, but one that leaves a lasting impact afterwards. The duty of a father, or of parents in general, is itself a heroic act, though it often goes unrecognised. Sometimes something as simple as fulfilling that duty makes a person a hero, even if they are never appreciated for it.

I would also like to share something personal. I always considered myself fortunate to have a father like mine-despite his poverty and some inabilities, he made good decisions, succeeded in life, and raised my sister and me without us ever lacking anything. This book helped me look back on my father, and that made me understand that everyone has their own struggles and goals, and that we are truly blessed to have parents who took such good care of their families.

Altogether, this book was excellent. Though much of it consist of photographs, and I did not go through all of them, the flow was wonderful-almost like a conversation. I have never finished a book to the very last page before, and certainly never in just two sittings, but I did with yours.

Thank you for writing such a moving tribute to your father.”

Think about it, dear Reader. I did not mention anything about parents being heroes in my book, but by exquisite extrapolation, my critic silenced me—perhaps even chastened and educated me—with his intuition. I am indeed grateful.

But that’s how wisdom works, Dears. Out of the mouths of babes we improve ourselves, if only we would take time to listen to them. This even justifies the claim made by Wordsworth, that “The Child is father of the Man”.

Did you enjoy reading this piece? I know I did.

Do let me know, please. I’ll even go so far as to say: “Pretty please!”