Book Review: ‘Nostalgia From My Pen’ by Ishu Bhalla

Book Title: Nostalgia From My Pen: When Life Was Simple (Growing up from Black & White to colour – Yaadein 60-70’s ke)
Author: Ishu Bhalla
Publisher: Ishu Bhalla
Number of Pages: 67
ISBN/ASIN: B0GJ6RD3MZ
Date Published: Jan. 22, 2026
Price: INR 99 / $2.99

Book Review

“Nostalgia From My Pen: When Life Was Simple” by Ishu Bhalla by feels less like a book you simply read and more like a long, warm conversation over tea. It’s the kind of book where you can almost hear the author smiling between the lines, gently guiding you through corridors of memory. From the very first page, you sense that this isn’t about grand drama — it’s about life as it truly is: quiet, layered, and beautifully human.

When was the last time we experienced small joys that did not coincide with great occasions or large gifts? The book is noteworthy because it depicts how everyday moments are considered as treasures. A childhood memory, a family tradition, a fleeting thought—all are treated with care. And while you listen (because this book truly feels like listening), you start to reflect on your own past. The old house. That familiar voice is calling your name. That one moment you didn’t realize would be essential someday. The book gently nudges you and says, “See?” That mattered.”

Family, of course, sits at the heart of everything. There’s affection here — not loud or dramatic, but steady and sincere. The author reflects on elders, traditions, and values with gratitude, even when recalling difficult times. It’s the kind of honesty that doesn’t pretend life was perfect, but still chooses to remember it kindly. And isn’t that how memory works? We smooth the edges, we hold onto the warmth.

There are moments of struggle woven in too — hints of hardship, lessons learned the hard way. But what’s refreshing is that the tone never becomes heavy. Instead, it feels reflective, almost wise. Challenges are described not as wounds, but as teachers. The message is simple: life shapes us, and that shaping — even when uncomfortable — is part of the beauty.

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The chapter titles alone feel like they’re winking at us — “My Best Friend” opens the gate, and suddenly the “Khaki Superman” postman strides in like a neighborhood hero. Before we know it, we’re spinning lattu, diving for pithhu, screaming “Kat gayi!” in epic kite battles that truly were the gali World Cup. There’s school-day drama, crush confusion, ₹12.50 bus passes, cinema bunking, bell-bottom dreams, and those long board-exam nights powered by a table lamp and pure bhagwan bharose. Each title feels like a playful nudge, reminding us that growing up was chaotic, funny, and absolutely unforgettable.

The language is straightforward and genuine, never making an effort to impress. Its straightforwardness somehow increases its impact. You have the impression that you are sitting in a room full of people sharing experiences honestly and openly, rather than studying literature. The structure of the book is as simple as chewing a toffee, but it has a distinct sweetness. Let’s not forget the cute pictures that resemble the scribbles at the end of a notebook during a lecture.

By the end, “Nostalgia From My Pen” leaves you with something gentle and lasting. It reminds you that your own memories — however small they seem — carry weight and meaning. It doesn’t shout its wisdom. It whispers it. And sometimes, whispers stay with us longer than noise.

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