Every woman has a story to tell. For decades, the voices of women have been suppressed, sometimes by themselves and sometimes by society, but if you look closely and dig deep enough, there’s a grave inside her, passed from one generation to another, weighed down by patriarchy and marital confines. And buried inside these graves are their stories, ideas, hopes and dreams – A Qabar.
A Glimpse into the Mystical World of Qabar
This novella “Qabar” too is about Bhavana’s buried emotions, till she meets a petitioner and her life takes an unexpected turn – for the better or worse she doesn’t know nor do we. But as the story progresses, we realize it is also about religion and the fences we create in its name. Time and again, many translated books have proven why regional writers are more relatable and influential than their English counterparts. Maybe it is because of their proximity to the local culture, their keen observation or their brilliant outlook combined with the freedom that comes with writing in their mother tongue. Qabar is yet another book executed with the same brilliance and eloquence that you forget that you are reading a translation. Originally written in Malayalam and masterfully translated into English by Nisha Susan, the book weaves a tapestry of magical realism, feminist themes, and socio-political commentary. The credit goes to both the author and the translator for maintaining the story’s credibility throughout.
As the foundations are laid for a temple to rise on the site of Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, Bhavana Sachidanandan, an additional district judge around whose life and work Qabar commences and concludes, is flanked by a male protagonist duo; the petitioner in the case, the architect Kaakkasseri Khayaluddin Thangal and Bhavana’s ancestor Yogishwaran Ammavan, both men of the occult. Thangal petitions the court to prevent the destruction of an ancestor’s qabar located on a piece of land that has been sold off without his knowledge to a charitable trust. The novelist uses their sorcery to weave magic realism into our reading experience.
Qabar Analysis: Unraveling Themes of Gender and Power
The opening line hints at what lies ahead. “The demolition of his ancestor’s qabar—that was what his civil suit was about,” but the narrative is not just about a lawsuit. It’s equally about the ceaseless power politics of gender privilege, about destructive attitudes embedded deep within matrimony. All this is etched in about 110 pages. The narrative paces furiously between past and present, fantasy and reality, and connects a number of storylines.
The minute Thangal enters the court, Bhavana is transfixed by the scent of Edward roses and rainbows. She tries to ignore his mysterious charm, the fancy clothing, and rumors about him being a djinn worshiper and stick to legal facts, but finds herself enchanted by him.
The plot oscillates between the serious reality of Bhavana’s existence and the realm of the supernatural conjured up by her mind every time she catches a whiff of the Edward rose perfume worn by Kaakkasseri Khayaluddin Thangal. Despite its small size, this novel encompasses an essential social and political commentary, a complicated love affair, a feminist understanding and most importantly, a journey of self-discovery. It asks intense questions about identity, religion, law, and justice. And also how even working women won’t be spared of slavery at home, and each home is her own grave where she has buried her needs and emotions is put forth beautifully.
The Magic of K.R. Meera’s Storytelling
K.R. Meera’s narrative expertise shines as she explores themes of gender dynamics, religious identity, and the weight of historical trauma. The book serves as a powerful commentary on the patriarchal structures that continue to shape Indian society, while also celebrating the resilience and strength of women who challenge these norms. Bhavana’s character embodies this struggle, navigating her professional life as a judge while grappling with personal challenges, including the aftermath of an abusive marriage. Her mother’s story, running parallel to her own, adds depth to the generational aspect of women’s fight against oppression. This multi-layered approach to character development allows readers to connect with the protagonists on a profound level.
Bhavana’s mother is an incredible character, one of those invisible working women, ceaselessly ploughing through her household duties round the clock, stoic about an unequal marriage, and commuting four hours daily to work and back. Yet, she is a voracious reader. “Sitting when I had a seat. Standing when I didn’t have one. That’s how I read all that I read.” When we meet her the first time, she is reading the South Korean writer Han Kang. The strongest woman in the book, the mother, curiously, is nameless. Yet, it’s she who has the most quotable lines. She justifies starting her life anew after retirement with a canine family, with the line, “Love isn’t a service charge. It is a sense of completeness that one finds in another person.” She once tells her daughter, “When I was your age, I thought family was heaven. After a while, I understood that this too is a workplace.” This simple yet profound observation speaks volumes about the often-unacknowledged labor of women in domestic settings, a theme that resonates throughout the novella. When Bhavana approaches her after a failed marriage, she quotes Tagore to her; how a bird has a perch in the cage but no space there to spread her wings.
Feminism & Facts
The book is also suffused with Meera’s strong feminist ideals. Her women protagonists — Bhavana and her mother — defy and question patriarchy at every turn. Both women walk out of toxic marriages and make informed choices to cast off the burden of societal expectations. The idea of equality in marriage of Mary Wollstonecraft’s and Virginia Woolf’s insistence on women needing a room of their own can be seen to be abound. But the most interesting aspect of Meera’s feminist vision is her exploration of family history and how it changes when it is retold by women.
K.R. Meera’s writing is nothing like I have read before. She surprises me by the power of her craft through every new book published. Her writing is bold, nonchalant, full of desire, and undertones of race, class, and provides no solutions. Nisha Susan’s translation does more than enough justice to the plot – it did not read like a translation to begin with and when it did, I didn’t feel anything was missed out.
Meera fuses fiction and fact dexterously. In 2019, when Bhavana is hearing this fictional case, the Supreme Court was delivering its verdict on the demolition of the Babri Masjid, another historical structure that was razed to the ground. This is also a reminder that we live on top of many graves of injustice and inequality. Thus, through this book, Meera turns a mirror on contemporary society, which is trying to erase many graves from memory, records, and history books. Meera questions the way the law functions in India. The legal system favours the privileged, we are reminded time and again. Bhavana, fuelled by her resolute faith in the rightness of the law, sees herself as an upholder of justice. The law demands evidence, she states. In a conversation that reads like a commentary on recent verdicts on land disputes, she asks Thangal: “doesn’t your objection stand in the way of public interest? And even if you argued that the qabar has historical importance, you don’t have any documents to prove it do you?” Bhavana’s courtroom has no space for sentiment or faith. And yet, as she discovers, the qabar exists, both as the ruins of a structure with minarets as well as in people’s imagination. Meera forces us to see that history is made up not just of facts and transactions documented on paper but also of lived experiences, of socio-cultural practices, and of collective memory.
Qabar also holds a mirror to contemporary Kerala, busting the myth of liberty and democracy in the life of the educated Keralan woman. The parallel narratives—the need for the birth of the scholar Brahmin, the camouflaged story of the death of the ancestor with occult powers, the two young divine girls who merge into one like vanishing twins—seamlessly woven into the story fabric create the layers that hold the story intact.
Diversions, Allegories, & Imageries
It is one of those books that I managed to complete within a short period of time. The core plot is fairly intriguing and Meera succeeded in keeping me engrossed till the half part. But unfortunately, the proceedings turn out to be extremely unconvincing from thereon. The abrupt transition from a supernatural thriller to a romance affects the tempo of the novel. The hasty ending too fails to justify the elaborate plot build-up. If you are looking for a quick read, you can try out this one. But do keep your expectations low. My second book from the author who completely captivated me in my first read, “The Hangwoman.”
The novella is short, but the length it takes you to is infinite. The writing is peppered with allegories hidden in bursts of an earthy magical realism rooted in djinns who can read minds and conjure rainbows that leaves the protagonist swooning away. There was a mysterious glow in every character that reveals only certain aspects. As the story moves forward, there is an avalanche of metaphors and imagery that went right above my head. On the first reading, I am sure, I missed a lot of imageries and metaphors. Therefore, keeping it for a second read to gather all that I missed.
A Blend of Legal Drama and Supernatural Elements
The Qabar book stands out for its unique blend of legal drama and supernatural elements, creating a captivating reading experience. Meera’s background as a journalist shines through in her detailed portrayal of the legal proceedings, while her imaginative flair brings the mystical aspects of the story to life. This juxtaposition of the rational and the supernatural serves as a metaphor for the complex realities of modern India, where tradition and progress often collide.
Nisha Susan’s Masterful Translation
Nisha Susan’s translation brings K.R. Meera’s poetic Malayalam prose to life for English readers, maintaining the original’s lyrical quality. Her prose is both poetic and incisive. The seamless transition between languages is a testament to Susan’s skill as a translator. As noted by critic Vivek Tejuja, “K.R. Meera’s writing isn’t easy. There are layers and multi-folds of emotions attached to it.” Susan’s translation captures these nuances, allowing non-Malayalam readers to fully appreciate the depth and beauty of Meera’s writing.
While one chapter is a grounded and achingly relatable family drama, the following chapter is a riveting courtroom drama. Some chapters have instances of magical realism (I won’t be surprised if one starts smelling the faint yet hypnotic scent of Edward roses after flipping through certain pages of this book) while some chapters are a discourse on the fractured nature of our society.
Impact and Significance in Indian Literature
Readers have praised its complex narrative structure, emotional depth, and the seamless blend of magical elements with social commentary. It definitely deserves a place on every book lover’s shelf. It challenges readers to think critically about gender, power, and the nature of reality itself, all while delivering a gripping narrative that keeps pages turning. It stands as a prime example of Indian magical realism, offering a unique perspective on contemporary issues through a supernatural lens. The novella’s exploration of Hindu-Muslim relations and the historical context of communal tensions adds another layer of relevance to its narrative.
Conclusion: A Literary Gem Worth Exploring
For its innovative storytelling, deep thematic exploration, and cultural significance, I wholeheartedly recommend “Qabar” to readers who appreciate complex, thought-provoking literature. On a scale of 1 to 5, I would rate this book a solid 4.5, marking it as a must-read for anyone interested in contemporary Indian fiction or magical realism.
Whether you’re a fan of magical realism, feminist literature, or simply in search of a book that will leave you pondering long after you’ve turned the last page, “Qabar” is a journey well worth taking. K.R. Meera’s masterpiece, brought to life in English by Nisha Susan, is a testament to the power of storytelling to illuminate the complexities of the human experience.






