Sameer Gudhate Presents the Book Review of The Day I Stopped Watching Reels by Vira Sameer Gudhate
- Sameer Gudhate
- 43 minutes ago
- 3 min read
I launched my first book at 44
My daughter launched hers at 11 — published by Pais Friends Library, Dombivli.
And somewhere between those two milestones, I discovered that sometimes children don’t just follow our footsteps… they show us new paths.
That revelation came to me through The Day I Stopped Watching Reels, the debut story by my daughter, Vira Gudhate. When she handed me the manuscript, I expected innocence. But what I found inside those pages was something far more remarkable — a small, steady wisdom, wrapped in the bright voice of a child who sees the world exactly as it is… and exactly as it could be.
The story opens in the familiar chaos of modern childhood: screens glowing, thumbs scrolling, reels spinning endlessly like tiny whirlpools of attention. Aarav, the young protagonist, is a boy we all recognize — the one who knows thirty different cat videos by heart but forgets the time he promised his mother. He’s endearing, imperfect, and painfully relatable. You don’t read Aarav; you remember him.
Vira writes his world with a surprising sensory clarity — the warmth of a Saturday morning sun, the sting of a mother’s disappointed silence, the jingle of a grandmother’s bangles as she rolls laddoos. There is a cinematic softness to her storytelling. You can almost see the clay volcano sitting unfinished, hear the hush of a quiet balcony, feel the shift in the atmosphere when Aarav finally looks up from the screen and sees his family again.
What elevates the story is not the plot but the perspective. Vira doesn’t preach about screen addiction. She doesn’t judge. She simply invites you into a week in Aarav’s life, where small, ordinary moments transform into tiny awakenings. Basketball with a friend becomes laughter rediscovered. Cooking with Grandma becomes connection rediscovered. A quiet living room becomes home rediscovered.
And then there’s that line — the one spoken by Aarav’s grandmother — the line that stops you mid-page:“We didn’t watch others live. We lived.”
For an 11-year-old to write that and understand it… that moved me more than I can express. Because it’s not a manufactured philosophy; it’s childhood truth. The kind that comes without layers of cynicism. The kind adults forget along the way.
Vira’s writing style is fluid and uncluttered, almost conversational. She allows silence into the story — pauses where the reader can breathe and feel. Her pacing mirrors Aarav’s emotional arc: rushed and breathless at first, then calm and grounding as he reconnects with the real world. As a reviewer, I admire this instinctive understanding of rhythm. As a father, I’m simply amazed.
The structure of the book is straightforward, but the emotional texture is rich. Every character — the mother with her quiet frustration, the father with his humour, the grandmother with her timeless wisdom — feels alive. Nothing is overdone. Nothing tries too hard. It’s honest storytelling, and that is its real strength.
If I were to critique anything, it’s merely that the story ends sooner than you would like. You want to stay a little longer with Aarav’s family. You want one more scene, one more moment. But maybe that’s deliberate — childhood moments are fleeting, after all.
On a personal level, reading this story made me pause in a way adult literature seldom does anymore. It reminded me of my own childhood in a pre-internet world — where imagination was endless, screens were rare, and life was lived in real time. It also made me rethink how often we, as parents, lose whole evenings to our own silent scrolling.
And then comes the ending — Aarav creating a reel not for attention, not for validation, but for joy. “Sometimes, the best reels are the real ones,” he says. I read that line, looked at my daughter, and felt something shift. Because out of all the things she has done, written, or dreamed of… that simple realization felt like the truest gift.
The Day I Stopped Watching Reels isn’t just a children’s book. It’s a small, luminous reminder to all of us — that sometimes the biggest stories begin when we put the screen down and look up.
So yes, read this book. Read it with your child. Read it alone. Read it at a time when your fingers are itching to scroll.
And when you finish, don’t rush to check your notifications.
Just sit there for a moment.
Look around.
Live.
Because as Vira beautifully reminds us —
the best reels are still the real ones.
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