Qabar: A Journey Through Feminism, Magic and Reality – BOOK REVIEW

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.

THE SAGE WITH TWO HORNS: UNUSUAL TALES FROM MYTHOLOGY – BOOK REVIEW

You might have heard about king Sibi who sacrificed his own flesh to keep his word to a pigeon, but how about the sculptor who managed to make magnificent statues with no hands at all? In “The Sage with Two Horns” Sudha Murty brings into light some quirky yet informative stories that are not only mythological but also quite prevalent and worth pondering in the present-day context because there’s something for everyone in this collection of tales of wisdom and wit! 

Even though the book is said to be children’s book, there isn’t any age limit, so everyone can enjoy it. If you’ve read any of Sudha Murthy’s other books, you’ll know about her simple, engrossing yet thought-provoking writing style. 

Mythology is a genre rich in intriguing and awe-inspiring stories that never disappoint. This book contains 33 tales from quarrels among gods, the follies of great sages to the benevolence of kings and queens, it features goddesses, extraordinary men and women of wisdom, and the virtues of ordinary mortals. Sudha Murty spins fresh accounts of lesser-known stories from Indian mythology and is sure to delight fans of this beloved storyteller. 

Truthfulness, honesty, determination, perseverance, hard work, and good deeds are some of the virtues inherent in these stories which have been categorized under 5 different themes in the book namely – Guruve Namaha, The Kings who became Saints, Raja Prithvi Pati, A Bag of Surprises and Tales from the Vault. Peppered with vibrant myths and legends, Sudha Murthy always keeps the child in you alive!! 

Some stories were familiar to me others weren’t, some stories left me thinking while others didn’t, however, not all stories were that great. So, I shelved this book and finally completed it this month. 

My favourite stories among them are – “The mystery of life of death” – Nachiketa’s story, “Story of Agastya” – origin of river Kaveri, “The Indras who became the Pandavas,” “The mystery of the identical nose rings”- background story of Purandaradasa, “The case of the unfinished verse”, which is the story of Kalidasa, and “The most important god of all”- Shani’s influence on Vikramaditya. I liked the picturesque illustrations by Priyankar Gupta and the sketches inside are brilliant. 

If you are choosing this book for your kid, go for it because they would love the bright cover, the black and white illustrations of Gods who test kings and queens, princes who engage in tough penance, and lazy philosophers that have faded from attention over time. 

For an adult like me it was a light read, with some fascinating stories from Indian Mythology. Also, it had self-righteous characters, showcasing blind loyalty, written in a hurried style, and lots of gender stereotyping in most of the stories. Though we cannot change what has already happened in these stories, but I feel retellings can be done much better. But at night if you aren’t getting any sleep, read a few chapters from this book and you will go into a dream enriched sleep with beautiful princess, deer, and gods. 

The Sage With Two Horns: Unusual Tales From Mythology, published by Puffin India, is the last volume in her collection of mythology series —The Man From The Egg, The Serpent’s Revenge, among others—that encapsulate different aspects of Indian mythology.

Language: English

Publication Date: 4, November 2021 

Pages: 216 Pages

Publisher: Puffin Books.

TERESA’S MAN – BOOK REVIEW

Usually, when I lack concentration, time, or experience a lull to pick up books, my only resort is short stories; especially if they talk about my favourite place and make me nostalgic, they are a great way to find my way back into reading and “Teresa’s Man and Other Stories from Goa” is one such book. Goa for commoners may mean parties, alcohol, beaches, ferries, foreigners, and merriment, but for me it’s a home where I learnt how to enjoy my today without any fears of tomorrow. It’s true that we Indians love Goa but forget about Goans.  In fact, I had never read anything written by a Goan author though I was a resident there for four long years, that was two decades back, but then again, it’s rare that you come across Konkani translations, all thanks to Xavier Cota.

“Teresa’s Man and Other Stories from Goa” is written by one of the most prolific and feted figures in contemporary Konkani literature – Damodar Mauzo who is also a Sahitya Akademi awardee.  As a novelist, literary critic, and fiction writer, he has been writing since 1960s till the recent times.  He writes in Konkani and is also proficient in Portuguese, English, and Marathi.  These 14 stories in translation comprise of Mauzo’s wonderfully varied compilation, from across 4 decades that’s 1960s to 2010.  While it is true that a few stories are set in the kind of village culture that does not exist anymore, but passing of time has not lessened the impact of Mauzo’s plots and characters; just a sentence or two and you can’t resist being drawn in.  So, we get to sit among Goan politicians on a hedonistic break in New Delhi, accompany a Dalit cattle herder across the Karnataka border into Goa because he has been told “you’ll live like a human there” and also drive around the back streets of Margao with enigmatic Baboy, who “knew only one thing and that is accept everything with a laugh.”  The stories are either set in Goa or talk about Goan people.  They are more an evocation of Goa through the names of characters, lifestyles, and memories rather than being set in the place itself.  While the stories don’t explore Goan culture, they are mostly focused on people and their indelible emotions. 

The first story is set in Saudi Arabia – “From the Mouths Of Babes” talks about the predicament of Mithila and Rajesh who live in Riyadh.  It finely draws stream of thoughts flowing through the mind of Mithila, a young Goan woman chafing under the strictures of the religious police even as she tries to evoke a more open display of physical affection from her husband. 

‘Coinsanv’s Cattle’ is a heart-breaking depiction of how a farmer couple must make the impossible choice of either send their beloved animals to slaughter or face starvation.  The dilemma of the wife who loves her cattle as her child is beautifully portrayed. 

Yet another story, “Bandh” which is about the “language agitation” of the 1980s, reiterates the futility of riots, you tend to harm the very same people for whom you are protesting.  Mauzo beautifully says language is a vehicle to foster understanding.  It is meant to unite, not to divide.  The motorcycle “pilot” Dattaram is faced with an odd situation.  On the day of Bandh, his friends Caetan and Peter warn him against seeking fares, but after a few hours beg him to take Rosy to the temple at Fatorpa (in Goa, Hindus and Catholics freely pay respects to both traditions).  They depart with Rosy’s mother “putting her hand on Dattaram’s arm, (saying), ‘Son, take care of my daughter and bring her back safely.’  But the two run into trouble.  A dozen men block their way at Cuncolim and try to kidnap Rosy.  For a brief moment, Dattaram is tempted to leave.  In the very next moment though, he sees Rosy’s mother on one side and Shantadurga, the goddess of Cuncolim, on the other.  Dattaram wades into the group of thugs and manages to escape with Rosy. 

He rides straight to Caetan’s house, stops at the doorstep and dismounts.  Alarmed Caetan runs up to them.  ‘What happened, Dattaram?’  Dattaram’s eyes were bulging.  He was speechless.  Finally finding his voice, he spats out; ‘This is our language! This is our culture!’  It very well explores the behaviour of people during bandh versus the actual respect they have for people which we could easily relate to because even today people protest for their mother tongue failing to realize language is meant to bring people together, not to tear them apart!

More than any other writer in contemporary Konkani literature, Mauzo epitomizes the multi-layered, profoundly confluent identity of Goans.  He grew up in a Hindu family surrounded by Catholic neighbours in the gorgeous seaside village of Majorda, where the sense of community blurred all boundaries.  Until recently, Mauzo made his living running the family general store – one-stop shopping for generations of Majorda residents and says his story ideas came to him in conversations with customers.  That’s why a deep empathy is reflected throughout “Teresa’s Man” and Mauzo often packs a substantial political punch on behalf of his people and their distinctive identity. 

In ‘The Vighnaharta’ story a family is worried about the Chathurthi preparations amidst their financial crisis.  And the ‘Happy Birthday’ story is about parents who strive hard to fit in the society of performers with their slow learning child. 

Now coming to the titular story, “Teresa’s Man,” we see how an ineffectual husband finally reaches his boiling point; how his frustration emerges in violence.  Peter is constantly taunted by his mother because his wife is more successful than him.  He doesn’t even try to get a job or to do anything useful and his male ego gets hurt when his friends tease him in a bar.  He decides to physically take his shame and frustration out on his wife, rather than attempting to improve himself.  This story depicts the psychological profile of a man who deliberately ignores his responsibilities and undergoes humiliation, highlighting the frustration, anger, and jealousy that he feels. 

The last story in this book is ‘A Writer’s Tale,’ where an aging writer Manohar and a young writer Jayatha formulate a friendship in the background of Jayatha’s ordeals with her family, depression, and search for a friend and how the senior author becomes the unwitting subject of Jayatha’s fiction.  It may seem humorous on the onset, but the idea of a Tamil lady being portrayed as wanton didn’t excite me and felt more exaggerated.  Old Hindi films have depicted South Indians as dim witted and caricatures which I completely don’t agree with and I still can’t understand why Mauzo fancied this idea in this story.  Well, let me leave it here as this may lead to another discussion. 

His writing spans an enormous range, straddling both urban and rural geographies, and runs the gamut of human emotion—the paralyzing helplessness of the small farmer; the eternal ebbs and flows of the man-woman relationship; and the many humiliations, small and large, of raising a differently abled child. 

Each story in this compilation gives a distinct flavour of Goa and what it means to be a Goan.  Most of the stories have an old-world charm about them since they are written across the decades, giving you a nice nostalgic feel.  They are hardly 10–15-minute reads, but I wanted to know more in most of the stories and since they were open ended, I was left wanting for more.  I do not know if it’s because the translation was amiss or the stories were written so originally.  Almost all of them tug the tender strings in your heart.  These are everyday happenings in the life of both humans and animals, be it a sudden sickness in the family; a water snake’s life in summer, a farmer’s attachment to his cattle; a poor man’s anxiety to celebrate an important festival, you could easily relate to it.  Xavier Cota, the translator of Teresa’s Man and Other Stories from Goa, is a teacher, former banker, and sports administrator who translates fiction and non-fiction from Konkani to English.  He has previously translated two major works by Mauzo namely These Are My Children and the novella, Tsunami Simon.  He has compiled this book too with great care, bringing to readers tales which are as compellingly local in their flavour as they are universal in the ideas and emotions they evoke.  This book is packed with lot of social and political punches.  It is touching, warm, moving, and so is a must-read. 

While Mauzo and his close contemporaries have consistently won Sahitya Akademi awards and national recognition, it is only recently that a substantial corpus of their work has begun to appear in English translation.  Teresa’s Man and Other Stories from Goa was nominated for the Frank O’Connor International award in 2015.  This definitely indicates that contemporary Goan-Konkani writing merits far greater attention than it usually gets.  “Teresa’s Man” makes for prismatic reading as Mauzo’s writerly eye perches on a dazzling variety of shoulders.  His brilliant writing has proved that irrespective of changing times, our emotions have remained the same whether we live in a city or live in a village.  Human emotions are invariably the same across all states, countries, and culture and these genuine emotions always inspire.

Have you read this book already or any of other translations of Mauzo? Do share your experience reading translated books and knowing Indian writers through translations in comment.

Print Pages: 208.

Language: English.

Publisher: Rupa Publication.

Publication Date: 3 October 2014.

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THE MOTHER I NEVER KNEW – BOOK REVIEW

Amidst all news updates and social distancing, this colourful cover piqued my curiosity and when Sudha Murthy had written it need I say more; I instantly picked it up!

“The Mother I Never Knew” comprises two novellas that explore quests by two different men namely Venkatesh and Mukesh. 

Venkatesh of the first novella is a bank manager in SBI.  He lives in Bangalore with his wife Shanta and two children Ravi and Gauri.  They are wealthy of course and to an outsider their family is a modern nuclear family in which the woman is strong and independent, obsessed with status and business.  His super-rich wife Shanta, runs the house very efficiently and handled the family finances better than an investment banker.  He is just a ‘Madam’s husband,’ but there’s an emptiness within Venkatesh because there’s no bonding between the family members.  They lived, worked and went out together it was mechanical.  Shanta spoke little and was always to the point.  His son takes after her (Ravi is in America now) while his daughter takes after him both in values and attitude towards life and relationships.  His son and wife are busy accumulating wealth whereas he and his daughter care about relationships.  Venkatesh is terribly upset one fine day when he returns home.  He had been transferred to Hubli, a place whose culture he’s totally unaware of.  Earlier, earning money was a necessity, but now working had become his habit.  Venkatesh doesn’t want to cancel the transfer through unofficial channels so he reluctantly agrees to go there for only six months and return after that. 

When he moves to Hubli, he notices that though the dialect is quite different people are very friendly.  He is constantly mistaken for Shankar Master.  He soon realizes that there is a look alike in the same town.  ‘How can we look so similar?  Patil says that there are seven lookalikes all over the world.  So, is it a coincidence?  We aren’t twins, for sure.  I was born at 10 a.m. in the Railway Hospital in Hyderabad.  When was he born?  I think I should talk to Shankar’s mother, Bhagavva.’  So, what starts of as curiosity to know about his look alike soon turns out to be a world-shattering experience for Venkatesh.  He discovers his father’s hidden past and some conspiracies.  With further probing, he is made aware of the grave injustices done to his step-mother, he realises that he must atone for the wrongs, but how is that to happen?  Will his family support him and be forthcoming to help him in his plans? Venkatesh is disheartened as his son is prepared to go to court against him and put the family honour at stake whereas Gauri supports his decision.  How could two children raised by the same parents and in the same environment be so unlike each other, he wonders.  Will Ventakesh make amends to his impoverished stepmother and repay his father’s debt? forms the rest of the story.  This story tries to show the differences that comes up in a family with members having different outlook towards life, relationship, career, and status. 

The second novella is nothing short of a Bollywood movie.  It is the story of Mukesh, a young man, working as programme executive in BBC, London.  He and his wife Vasanthi are vacationing in Switzerland where she meets with a skiing accident.  While he is attending to her in the hospital, he receives a call from his sister Neeraja.  There is an urgency in her voice asking him to return to Bangalore as their father, Krishna Rao had a heart attack and was in the ICU.  In the flight Mukesh thinks about his father, a self-made, soft-spoken gentleman, known as Rao Saheb had come from humble beginnings and had worked hard to become who he was today.  Rao Saheb owned a huge garment export house called Mukesh Exports in Bangalore.  By the time he reaches India, his father had already departed.  He returns home for the final rites and meets the lawyer for his father’s will.  It is while searching for his father’s legal papers, his sister discovers a photograph which brings out an ugly past.  Mukesh gets a little upset and asks his mother, ‘Why didn’t you let him tell me the truth?’ 

‘Because of fear.  I was scared, Munna.  I’d heard from many people that once a child learns that he is adopted, he goes in search of his biological parents and forgets about everyone else. I was scared that you’d leave and forget about me, too.  What would I do then?’ 

He comes to know that he’s an adopted child and after listening to the past’s story, Mukesh then sets out in search of his biological mother.  But things take an unexpected turn and the past becomes even more complicated than it was before.  Mukesh’s life gets convoluted by the presence of not one but several mother figures as he journeys from London to Bangalore to the by lanes of Amritsar and onwards to Delhi.  Whether he comes to know the truth about his birth?  Did he finally find his biological mother? forms the plot of the second novella. And the deeper he delves, the more confused he is about where should his loyalties and responsibilities lie, whether with the mother who raised him or with the mother who gave birth to him? 

I have always marvelled at how Sudha Murty has such a thorough understanding of her culture and depicts it in simplest way to her readers!  As the title suggests it is the story about two men on a quest to find the mother they never really knew!  Sudha Murthy’s prose is devoid of pretentions.  Well, the story isn’t unique, our epics are filled with such stories, but it isn’t a mindless repeat as well.  It has new facets and is told in a very subjective way.  The settings are contemporary.  The author has made the story her own and I could feel as if she is sitting right next to me, narrating me the stories of Venkatesh and Mukesh.  Sudha Murty did move out of her comfort zone and mentioned new cities apart from North Karnataka and Mumbai.  If you have loved Sudha Murthy’s earlier books, you’ll love this as well. 

“The Mother I Never Knew” is a poignant, dramatic book that reaches deep into the human heart to reveal what we really feel about those closest to us.  In this book of just 200 pages, Sudha Murthy presents two novellas, about two men and their eagerness to find their past and each portrays mothers and motherhood in a resolute manner.  It deals with identity crisis, family issues, and inheritance as well as adoption which is regarded as something uncommon and unwelcomed in some communities.  The two men are bound by the same dilemma and the same complexity of emotions. and it is important for them to find their way back to bring stability in their lives.  She, once again, brilliantly talks about the prejudices that the patriarchal society inflicts upon widows, single mothers, teenage pregnancies and women in general.  She portrays how the women of these two novellas are controlled by the men in their life. 

The writing style as always is brilliant and the storyline moves ahead in an unflinching way.  It is indeed reminiscent of R K Narayan and not very difficult for an Indian to relate to what is written.  Hence, an absorbing read.  The stories especially the first one is highly predictable though I liked it.  The girl or woman being slim, fair, and long hair in every story seems a bit stereotype to me.  More in-depth portrayal of characters is missing in this book. 

The first story talks about families and cultures in contrast, describes the different characters within a family and their mindsets.  It takes time to hit the nail but that time doesn’t seem like idling away, it adds value to the story.  Among the two stories in this book, the first one left me wanting for more.  I was a little disheartened that it was so short with abrupt ending.  The second one is too dramatic to the extent of being unbelievable at some places.  The unnecessary stretch put me off towards the end and I was just looking forward to quickly wrap up the book.  However, the time seemed wasted in the second story, with incidents of no value taking place and unnecessary emotional drama. 

Before I wind up let me ask you a question, who do you think is Lord Krishna’s real mother, is it Devaki or is it Yashodha? It’s difficult to answer, isn’t it? because apparently Devaki gave birth to Krishna, but Yashodha mothered him.  This book is in no way related to Krishna, but its message is definitely clear “Giving birth is simply a biological event but parents must move mountains to raise a child to be a good human being.” 

Overall, this book is recommended to Sudha Murthy fans, to readers looking for quick reads or novellas and those who are looking for books which talks about mothers!  Though I won’t categorise this as a ‘must read’ book, but for a light hearted read and beginner friendly language you can pick it up.  Have you read this book or any of Sudha Murthy’s?  If you have, which one is your favourite?  Please do share your thoughts in comments.

Print Pages: 216.

Language: English.

Publisher: Penguin Books Limited.

Publication Date: 17 July 2014.

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