--- title: "The Love That Was Review: A Tender, Honest Medical Drama" url: https://deifiedpublications.com/book-reviews/the-love-that-was-review-a-tender-honest-medical-drama publisher: Deified Publications, Lucknow, India --- Review[Fiction](/book-reviews?topic=Fiction) # The Love That Was Review: A Tender, Honest Medical Drama Review by[Priya Srivastava](/authors/priya-srivastava)_Editor-In-Chief_ Published 3 October 2026 Updated 5 October 2026 Reading time 8 min Readers 4,52,145 views · 212 shares In this review6 sections **The Love That Was** ★★★★★★★★★★**4.2**_out of 5_ Our rating A patient medical love story about the heavy cost of unsaid words. The book AuthorDr. Shailendra Mishra GenreLiterary fiction LanguageEnglish PublisherNotion Press Published28 August 2026 Pages304 FormatKindle & Paperback ISBN9798906962072 Price₹369/- Where to find it Buy it[Amazon](https://www.amazon.in/Love-That-Was-Flowed-River/dp/B0HGYQHYVN/) I have learned that certain books arrive when your soul is already attuned to their frequency. When I first picked up The Love That Was Book Review copy sitting on my desk, I was looking for something that did not shout at me. In 2026, this feels timely because we are constantly bombarded with loud opinions and hurried summaries, so settling down with a narrative that moves at the deliberate pace of a river felt like a much-needed exhale. As the Editor-in-Chief at Deified Publication, I read many manuscripts that try too hard to impress with stylistic gymnastics, but Dr. Shailendra Mishra took a different path entirely. He chose to write a story about time, medical corridors, and unspoken choices with a gentle grace that immediately caught my attention on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. Opening the first chapter felt less like starting a novel and more like stepping into an old hospital waiting room where the air smells faintly of phenyl, wet paper, and cheap cigarettes. Seventeen-year-old Arvind arrives at Patna Medical College and Hospital in the mid-1980s wearing a stiff white uniform and carrying the heavy, unspoken expectations of his father, a lower-division clerk who sees his son's admission as a family salvation. I found myself looking up from the page just to let that specific memory settle into my own thoughts, remembering how frightening ambition feels when you are young and entirely unmoored. The author does not rush to introduce grand romantic gestures, and instead builds his fictional world with the unhurried precision of a man who understands how institutions shape the people who inhabit them. That early sequence involving humiliating ragging sessions and sudden terror in the verandas set a grounded, honest tone that promised I was in good hands for the long journey ahead. ## What Lies Beneath the Surface of This Story For readers searching for a thoughtful book summary, this novel is structured into seven parts across forty-two numbered chapters that follow the intertwined lives of two cardiologists, Arvind and Sharmila. Their journey begins in the high-pressure lecture halls of PMCH and stretches across decades through Delhi, Banaras, Bangkok, and Singapore, weaving professional dedication with personal heartbreak. We watch them navigate rigorous training, societal barriers, and long separations that test the limits of what human affection can endure without cracking under the pressure. The narrative is told through an observant third-person perspective that keeps us close to their internal silences, allowing us to feel the heavy weight of choices made in moments of fear or perceived duty. If you are wondering what is it about, the core of the plot examines how a single misunderstood letter or an unexpressed truth can alter the trajectory of two extraordinary lives across thirty years. The secondary characters add remarkable texture to the academic and medical backdrops, preventing the story from becoming an isolated romance between two people. We meet brilliant batchmates like Sumitra, who is devastated by minor score differences in physiology exams, and strict wardens like Dr. Priya Sharma, who patrol the Ladies' Hostel wrapped permanently in a sari. Later in the timeline, characters like Rajat Mehra, Sharmila's wealthy corporate-executive husband, and Anand, their son who possesses Arvind's exact smile, complicate the emotional landscape without resorting to melodrama. The author draws upon his own professional background to give the medical settings an authentic pulse, showing how hospital night shifts and clinical routines become the strange backdrops where deep human attachments are forged and fractured. Every setting, from the dim corners of Mona Cinema in Patna to the bustling streets of Singapore, feels inhabited by people who are simply trying to do their best with the limited emotional vocabulary they were given. ## What Stood Out to Me About the Craft One of the strongest elements in this literary work is the author's ability to capture the erosion of time through small, domestic observations rather than sweeping historical events. In my years reviewing books, I have rarely seen an academic background translated into fiction with such meditative restraint, especially in scenes like the library encounter where Sharmila hides a volume of Tagore's poetry inside an open biochemistry textbook. Arvind tells her that reading poetry is a dangerous habit for future doctors, and her simple reply that doctors are allowed inner lives is a line that I kept thinking about for days. The pacing mirrors the patient and unhurried flow of the Ganga, which serves as both a geographical anchor and a recurring philosophical motif throughout the narrative. When Arvind and Sharmila drift in a wooden boat near Dr. T. N. Banerjee Ghat during a sudden summer storm, the prose captures the electric tension of the moment without ever raising its voice above a murmur. At the same time, an honest reader review must acknowledge the places where the writing stumbles slightly under its own weight. Certain metaphorical motifs, particularly comparisons involving rivers, currents, and water, are repeated across multiple chapters with high frequency, which occasionally dilutes their original poetic impact and makes the prose feel a bit circular. Furthermore, the transition between the mid-career decades and the elderly phase in Singapore feels compressed, causing some emotional developments to occur with a cinematic suddenness that contrasts sharply with the unhurried pace of the earlier chapters. Even with these minor editing slips, the overall architecture of the book remains impressive, anchored by moments of startling clarity like the discovery of the forgotten letter in an old leather satchel after years of needless separation. ## The Emotional Core That Lingers After Reading Is it worth it to invest your time in a sweeping narrative of loss, sacrifice, and eventual reunion that spans three decades? I would argue yes, but only if you are willing to let the sadness of the characters wash over you without demanding a neat, fairy-tale resolution. The emotional core of this novel rests on the heavy, erosive weight of silence and miscommunication, best demonstrated when Sharmila mistakes her father's silence for a definitive refusal and breaks things off with Arvind. That single, tragic misunderstanding creates a domino effect of marriages, children, and gentle midnight loneliness in hotel rooms across Bangkok and Delhi. When Arvind and Sharmila finally cross paths again at an international conference, their retreat into a gentle garden to weep for the years lost feels earned, heavy, and achingly human. The book touches on a universal fear that most adults are simply children who became skilled at hiding their fears behind professional titles and polite social distance. When thirteen-year-old Anand spontaneously asks Arvind at a Banaras amusement park if he has a son, and tells him to consider him his son, the scene packs an emotional wallop that took me completely by surprise. Arvind experiences a profound, unnameable shock of biological recognition while Sharmila watches in silent terror, realizing that bloodlines have a stubborn way of asserting themselves regardless of human plans. It is the kind of book that sits with you long after the final page is turned, making you wonder about the paths not taken in your own life and the words left unsaid when the moment demanded courage. ## Who This Book Is For and Who Should Skip It Readers who appreciate slow-burning, melancholic Indian narratives set against academic and medical backgrounds will find this novel to be a rewarding companion for gentle evenings. If you loved the intricate family dynamics in The God of Small Things or the delicate emotional excavations found in Jhumpa Lahiri's work, this book occupies a very similar literary lane. It is designed for patient readers who prefer internal psychological depth over fast-paced plot twists, and who do not mind stories where characters make heartbreaking mistakes out of a misguided sense of duty. If you are looking for a comforting escape with lighthearted banter and a quick, predictable conclusion, you may want to skip this one, as the melancholic tone and lingering sense of regret require emotional stamina. The target audience includes mature readers of literary fiction who understand that real life rarely offers clean closures, and that reconciliation often arrives too late to change the foundational shape of our choices. When an older Anand meets Arvind face-to-face at Vishwanath Gate in Banaras outside of childhood memories, he tells him he is willing to know him not as a father yet, but as a person his mother loved. That nuanced, measured resolution speaks directly to anyone who has ever had to rebuild a fractured relationship with patience and humility. It is an honest exploration of love as weather rather than a contract, reminding us that we cannot make a vow against rain when the storms of life decide to rearrange our carefully laid plans. ## Final Thoughts From My Reading Chair Dr. Shailendra Mishra has crafted a deeply reflective novel that honors the complicated realities of professional ambition, cultural expectations, and enduring affection across time. While it has a few repetitive motifs and rushed transitions in its final third, the emotional honesty and vivid institutional settings make it a memorable addition to contemporary Indian literary fiction. I found myself moved by its refusal to offer easy answers, and I appreciate an author who treats his characters with such tender, steady empathy even when they fail each other. If you give this story the patience it asks for, it will reward you with moments of gentle beauty that linger in your thoughts long after the cover is closed. ## The Love That Was: Your Questions Answered ### Is The Love That Was worth reading? Yes, if you enjoy slow-paced literary fiction that focuses on emotional depth, complex characters, and melancholic reflections on time and sacrifice. It requires patience, but the payoff is an emotionally resonant story that keeps coming back to you long after you finish the final chapter. ### Who should read The Love That Was? This book is ideal for readers who love sweeping Indian literary narratives, medical backdrops, and character studies exploring unspoken regrets, family duty, and decades-long reunions. Fans of Arundhati Roy and Jhumpa Lahiri will find familiar thematic territory here. ### What is the main theme of the novel? The primary theme revolves around the heavy toll of silence and miscommunication in human relationships, contrasted against the untamed, fluid nature of true desire. It also examines biological inheritance, professional dedication, and the burden of societal expectations across three decades. ### How does the story end? The novel concludes with a moving generational reckoning in Banaras, where Arvind finally meets his adult son Anand face-to-face at Vishwanath Gate. They agree to know each other slowly as people, bringing a measure of grace and acceptance to a lifetime of complicated separations. About the reviewer ## Priya Srivastava Editor-In-Chief Priya Srivastava brings a discerning eye, thoughtful perspective, and a deep appreciation for the art of storytelling. 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