A House Full Of Men, what is it like? Is it the enthusiasm dancing in the air about football and cricket, the booming news discussions spilling over tea and coffee, or a gentle smile of love that doesn’t manage to find words? Is it seeking recognition yet pushing each bit of it or indulging in attention even when you get a speck of it? Is it bookshelves lined with emotions, untouched, masked behind a tough face? Is it subtle communications reaching hearts?

A House Full Of Men, with Kittu, a twenty-five-year-old woman as a protagonist, was one of those reads that held onto the title and protagonist equally. Kittu, with an open wound of the loss of a mother, pretending the wound doesn’t exit, lived in a family of 5 or so men. After reading around 80 pages or so, I noticed I was glued to the book even though there wasn’t any ‘aha’ moment. I felt lighter, laughed, and allowed myself to feel at ease as different characters poured in and out. And, except for some parts, I was able to imagine Kittu as she wore different expressions. And, Kittu’s brothers made me laugh a little more.

This book also made me ponder over feeling heard and seen. Kittu, in a family of men, often mentioned how she wasn’t heard and seen. How does one feel heard and seen?  Is it communication, love, time, a warm hug, a comforting silence that makes the other person feel heard and seen? Even after spending time with her family, what was it that couldn’t weave a space of feeling heard and seen. Appreciate the author for adding this point.

All in all, some excerpts slowed me down, while I couldn’t resonate with some. The writing style is such that you want to continue reading. Some ideas may seem forced out but most of the book flows as if it’s just about your next-door neighbour. And, the ease pours in, if I may add.