When I thought about reading this book, I honestly didn’t expect much. I assumed it must be Bollywood oriented fluff with cheesy descriptions of stars and their lives surrounded by obscene excess, especially Taimur and his parents. After all Bollywood does not really run on intellect. 
But I was pleasantly surprised when I started reading it. The first page has a disclaimer that crisply clarifies that this is not about Kareena and Saif. I liked that. Mostly because I know everything about them already. 
Then it started getting really interesting. Soha initially talks affectionately about her father, the great Mansoor Ali Khan Pataudi, cricketer extraordinaire. This inexorably makes the book pretty legit. If you grew up in India in the 70s and 80s you were more or less born with a cricket bat in your mouth and a ball in your hand. If your parents were extra crazy about cricket, the wickets came along too. I think I was born with all these as well as gloves, cap, face guard, and the notorious cup. I clearly knew everything there was to know about Mr Pataudi on the public domain in those times. Remember, there was no Internet then. Papa, the radio, and newspapers were the source of all my news.
My obsession with sports did not go down well generally with society because of my gender. Girls were supposed to be coy and homely in those days. And then there was I who could rattle off every single statistic verbatim in cricket, tennis, soccer, and the olympics. Not very girly, eh? Yet my parents bought me a nice cricket bat and ball for my tenth birthday, that I played with on the streets of Ranchi with girls and boys of my age till it was blown into smithereens! In current times, this would have made interesting copy about gender dysphoria and such supportive parents 
I was still quite curious about Nawab Pataudi and found the minute details of his life in Soha’s book fascinating. Of course he was famous for his handsomeness, his glass eye, his marriage to a bold film star, and his dominance of cricket. But I do also remember him for his commanding vocabulary, in a tantalizing British accent, that put him in the superior parlance echelons alongside Shashi Tharoor, Khushwant Singh, and Charles Krauthammer. Having always had a penchant for languages, I am enchanted if someone’s daily vernacular sends me chasing after the Webster (thesaurus these days).
Nawab Pataudi lost his eye in a freak accident at age 21. He went on to become one of the greatest sportsmen of all times. How do you perceive depth with one eye? It’s a medical miracle. He had a phone obsession too just like the contemporary generation. Except that his obsession was with the landline 
☎️ He almost never spoke more than a few words when called, just like the contemporary generation. The difference is that he was a non- talker whereas our generation doesn’t know how to talk on the phone 
This book has been my inspiration to write about my time with Papa. There’s something special about fathers and daughters, wouldn’t you say? 
❤️
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