The Feast of Roses: A Royal Saga by Indu Sundaresan/ HarperCollins India

Reviews, Vol. I, Issue III

Indu Sundaresan’s second novel ‘The Feast of Roses’ is the sequel to her first ‘The Twentieth Wife’, wherein the latter deals with the life of Mehrunnisa, the former accounts her tenure as the Mughal Empress NurJahan.‘The Twentieth Wife’ ended with MehrUnNisa becoming empress through her second marriage with Emperor Jahangir who entitled her as Nurjahan in 1611. ‘The Feast of Roses’ picks up the narrative from here to continue her later life as the Queen Consort of first half of the 17th century Mugal India.

The blind love of Jahangir for Nurjahan widens latter’s way to exercise a strong influence over him. The eventful journey of becoming an Empress from a common woman made her more diplomatic, deceitful, manipulative, political, scheming, shrewd, and selfish who played underhandedly to raise and hold her position intact inside the royal zenana and surprisingly outside the world of men as well. She played the game of power and politics in their true terms. She formed a junta with Ghias, Abul, and Khurram to help herself in reigning the empire and she was successful as it was evident that from behind the veil it was her voice that controlled the actions of Jahangir. She venally snatched the title of Padshah Begum from her arch rival, consort Jagat Gosini (mother of Prince Khurram, alias emperor Shahjahan). She rounded her stick all over the state affairs be it granting trading permission to the foreigners or sending cogent Mahabat Khan to the furthest Qabul. She was a self-centred woman. She did love Jahangir but it never superseded her self-obsession which even took her to an audacious public brawl with the Emperor ending with a scuffle. Whenever Jahangir had fallen ill she genuinely got anxious but the apprehension was more for the powers she exercised. She became one of the very few Mughal ladies who possessed the power to issue royal farmans using the imperial seal and the only Empress to have her name minted with on silver coins. She even tried to arrange a marriage between would-be emperor Khurram and her own daughter Ladli despite knowing that Ladli was the cousin of Khurram’s most beloved wife and her own niece, Arjumand Banu (later empress Mumtaj Mahal). But this time she failed and gradually the course of events took unexpected turn for Nurjahan. Arjumand was envious of her aunt’s position and power everywhere in the empire. She started giving counsel to Khurram which led him to dislike NurJahan day by day and finally the junta broke. Khurram’s refusal to marry Ladli made the empress more furious and she started planning her game deviously. She approached to prince Khusrau and later convinced prince Shaharyar to marry Ladli and started putting him as the next heir before Jahangir. At first things were running in favour of her. Nurjahan made Jahangir angry with Khurrram and put the latter in flight with his pregnant wife and children to escape the wrath of the Emperor. But her game was not successful. Defending all kind of her attacks Khurram finally, after Jahangir’s death, ascended to the throne as Emperor ShahJahan (1628). He sent Nurjahan for a royal exile to Lahore with Ladli where she took her last breath (1645). Indu finishes Mehrunnisa’s story with her death and ends the novel as well.

Indu once again has enwrapped her novel with rich descriptions. Marriages, hunting tours, royal attires, jewelleries, battle fronts, foods & beverages, or even conspiracies; all are vividly there to show the magnanimousness of the dynasty. She already is a proven story teller who possesses the captivating power of retaining the readers to her writing. She has offered Nurjahan under the shades of real history and imagination. Her Jahangir sometimes appears as the just Emperor and sometimes as a mere uxorious husband. Indu has named her novel after a line from Thomas Moore’s oriental romance ‘Lalla Rookh’ and concerningly introduces a splendiferous garden episode where Jahangir publicly featherbeds Nurjahan on a pathway of rose petals. As far the historical liberties are concerned, she had to give the ‘Rahimi’ to Ruqqya Sultan, actually belonging to MariamUzZamani as she deliberately wanted to elude the latter in both her narratives. Every part of the sequel like its prequel witnesses Indu’s meticulous researching to proffer Nurjahan before us, yet it fails to mirror the disputed Empress’s entire personality. Indu has focussed mostly on her political side where she is sly as a vixen always running after position and power; but history says also about her extraordinariness to write poetry (it is assumed that the epitaph inscribed on her tombstone was composed by herself), read books, or design clothes & jewelleries. One may also argue over whether both the novels bear the feminist perspectives as it is clearly apprehended that Indu had the power of feminism turned on in her mind while writing the two novels.

Indu has sincerely matured her writing style in the sequel since her first novel ‘The Twentieth Wife’ was allegedly over described and detailed. The sequel has also florid descriptions but in a more condensed and compact manner. The portrayal of Empress Nurjahan is drenched in various shades. It is surprising to see how a woman of a common birth gathers such audacity that she practically ruled the whole empire exclusively on her own terms. Her tricky games sometimes make the readers more irritated than angry. But as the novel proceeds toward its very end we do feel sorry for the proud woman and shed a drop of tears for her inglorious death in a forlorn state. It is indeed ironical that the Taj Mahal (the great monument of love, built by Emperor ShahJahan in the memory of his deceased wife Mumtaz Mahal) surpasses in notability the memory of Empress Nur Jahan, a woman of great achievement, centuries before her time. Though it is a matter of great regret that she could not left behind any such token of love which would eternise her, like her niece Mumtaz Mahal, among the masses; history will always celebrate Nurjahan who withstands all the existing norms of an Empress and dares to redefine her role as a decision maker.

‘The Feast of Roses’ is the second novel of Sundaresan’s ‘Taj Trilogy’. The other two novels are ‘The Twentieth Wife’and ‘Shadow Princess’.

Reviewed by Prosenjit Ghosh

A teaching associate at a Govt. aided school in West Bengal.

Email- prosenjitghosh12@gmail.com

Shashi Deshpande’s Shadow Play/ Aleph Book Company

Reviews, Vol. I, Issue III

Shortlisted for The Hindu Literary Prize, 2014.

A Filigree of Relationships 

Shashi Deshpande while articulating about the double position of being a writer and a woman shares: “I have managed to give the main, not the supporting roles to women, erasing from my own mind the belief that they were doomed to be forever in the wings, or backstage.”

Shadow Play is no exception to the rule with its squad of female protagonists occupying positions of eminence in the novel. Be it Kalyani and Aru who amalgamate tradition and modernity to lead dynamic and wholesome lives or Seema who embraces an avant-garde career like modelling to earn creative and professional gratification. Kasturi, the beatnik comes along as the ‘New Woman’ who flouts all the outdated norms of this degenerate society. What she resents is the falsehood; she rather chooses to be truthful to herself and loyal to friends who helped her regain the lost ground. After enduring extreme cruelty in a nuptial relationship that is imposed on her, Kasturi’s resilience finally entrusts her not only emotional conciliation but professional fruition too.

The immediate world of Aru and Rohit, a lawyer-architect couple orbits around Aru’s younger sisters, Charu and Seema. Presiding over the family is the grande dame Kalyani who succors Gopal- their dad, Premi and Devaki- the maternal aunts and Aru- the eldest amongst the siblings in holding together the family after the tragic death of Sumi, the girls’ mother in a road accident. Kalyani is monumental in bringing Gopal back to the family, and its she who segues his changeover from a ‘deserter dad’ to a ‘dad dependable.’ The large extended ménage weathers all emotional tempests with panache and aplomb:

“Everyone had tried to plug the gaps, not only of those who had gone, but even of those who had never been. For Premi’s son Nikhil, to take on the role of Aru’s brother, since Aru has no brother, was easily and naturally done.”

After Kalyani’s demise, Aru engages herself with greater reason in enhancing not only the luxuriance of Kalyani’s trees and garden but also oxygenate the bonds that conjoin the human souls at ‘Vishwas’- their new house. The new house which has been built according to Kalyani’s desire for Sumi’s three daughters retains its original name. Aru envisages it to be her prerogative to guard the trust that holds the natives (resident as well as visiting) of that house together. For that she doesn’t even mind counteracting her own conduct in the past:

 “She looks after them the way Kalyani did, assiduously anointing the tree trunks with hing and watering them with buttermilk, something which she and Charu had laughed at earlier. ‘Feeding the curry-leaf trees,’ they had called it.”

Shashi Deshpande in a deviance from radical feminists gives credence to male involvement in the feminist movement. The character of Gopal is etched on the lines that men need to be coerced to assume responsibility for transforming their consciousness and the consciousness of society at large. Gopal who abandoned his family twice to seek solace in the serene Himalayas speaks of: “Paschatap and prayaschitta: remorse and atonement, they go together, one follows the other.” Shashi Deshpande gives ample space of as many as six chapters for Gopal to co-narrate the tale from his perspective, and to share his afflictions, malaise and ecstasies with the readers. The author welcomes Gopal and Kasturi uncovering a new face of love in each other in their sunset years, bereft of any guilt or contrition:

“At our ages, Kasturi’s and mine, there can no longer be thunder and lightning, no more a rush of blood to the head, no sudden savage arousal. And yet I have a sense of excitement when I am with Kasturi. She has awakened something in me. I like to be with her, I like to see her smile...feel the skin of her cheek against my palm.”

Shadow Play, a sequel to an earlier novel of Shashi Deshpande, A Matter of Time (1996) is truly about the delicacy of relationships that give life its meaning. The novel lays bare the “many selves” of the horde of characters that throng it. Howbeit, the personal memoirs are entwined around the insensitive realities of the cruel world we inhabit, the senseless and devastating acts of terrorism, atrocities against women be it domestic violence or violations evinced on their bodies in the savage gang rapes and callous marital rapes. Even tangles around the surrogacy issues and adoption find a mention in the novel as Aru and Rohit languish for a child of their own.

All these and many other concerns of the modern world are brought in precedence. The South Asian Diasporic experience post 9/11 is not bypassed too, Shashi Deshpande takes a dig at ‘the racialization of religion and xenophobia’ and considers them playing a spoil sport to many an émigré hopes and, to newer concepts of borderless world and ‘World Aborigines’:

“The two planes that sliced through the twin towers have sliced the country, indeed the world, into two, leaving Charu and Hrishi asking themselves: where do we belong? We don’t belong to the faith that terrorists claim they belong to, but the colour of our skin, our country, the part of the world we come from, mark us and make people- some of them at least –look at us with suspicion.”     

Apropos the language of the novel, it can only be said that Shashi Deshpande has proficiency with words, and of course she requisitely flavours her language with Sanskrit and Kannada words without dissipating the pristine touch of English. Her inimitable style has few equals as far as Indian writing in English is concerned. Her unique expression skills and lucid prose engages and enchants the readers.

Reviewed by Manjinder Kaur Wratch
Recipient of Maulana Azad National Fellowship, she is pursuing her doctorate degree in English Literature from University of Jammu on the topic of Partition Literature. Her M.Phil dissertation was on the translated in English works of legendary Punjabi writer Amrita Pritam. Earlier she has served as Faculty English Language and Literature in various leading institutes of the country. She has made many presentations in various national and international conferences and has many published articles to her credit.

Item Girl by Richa Lakhera / Rupa Publications

Reviews, Vol. I, Issue III

Goodreads blurb: Sunheri and Suhana—twin sisters who share a horrific childhood—get caught up in a vortex of pain and deceit when Sunheri, a popular item girl in Bollywood, is accused of murdering her vicious uncle and is sent to jail. Suhana, an aspiring filmmaker, is determined to seek justice for her sister but comes up against Kala, their stepmother, who has hatched diabolical plans of her own. And when three other manipulative item girls—Nargis, Digital Dolly and Daisy—are identified as key eyewitnesses in Sunheri’s case, the matter only becomes more complicated.

Throw into the mix an explosive rape-tape, a brutal blackmailer, a cruel boyfriend, a cynical journalist who knows too much, and a hard-boiled cop, and what you have is a mind-bending psychological thriller that will hold you hostage until the end. An intense, gripping account of the dark side of showbiz, there is never a dull moment in Item Girl.

Rupa Publications’ recent release Item Girl by Richa Lakhera is a psychological thriller, an adventurous murder mystery coming all the way just after the success of the author's first book Garbage Beat. The novel has achieved commendable response in a brief time and is still creating waves.

Lakheria’s protagonist in this novel is Sunehri – a popular item girl from Bollywood, supported by her twin sister Suhana – an aspiring filmmaker. The novel mainly revolves around the gruesome murder of KD – the manager as well as step-Uncle of Sunehri and Suhana.  

While the plot revolves around the spine-chilling murder of KD, all circumstantial evidence suggest towards Sunehri Kashyap (Sunny). She is accused of murdering her uncle in drug induced frenzy and is taken under police custody.

It is Suhana, who is determined to seek justice for her sister Sunehri, but Kala, the evil stepmother of both girls, makes the matter worse with her diabolical plans.

The narrative becomes stem-winding when the investigating officer ACP Kabir Bhonsle suspects the whole affair and goes on to conduct a thorough investigation leaving no loose ends.

However, this suspicion lead towards the revelation of numerous hidden secrets from the past lives of all characters involved – Sunehri, her sister Suhana, their step uncle KD, his sordid business associates, his sister and Sunny’s step mother Kala and the three other item girls Nargis, Digital Dolly and Daisy – the key witnesses of the murder.

Hereafter follows a baggage of events and characters that pull ACP Bhonsle towards an unforgettable journey through the squalid under-currents of the Indian film industry.

Richa’s writing is apprehensive and balanced, as required by the theme and plot of this novel. Her brisk tone does an extraordinary job by making the readers much aware about the issues which are often discussed in hushed tones. She reveals the less known, darker, disturbing facets of the industry such as the casting couch, the absolute lack of integrity and morality with which the seamy elements of the industry operate as well as the presumptuous display of wealth and power displayed by them. 

The author deserves all accolades for weaving all these elements into a single narrative in such a way that it becomes a vital part of the plot without restraining the stride of the storytelling.

Richa Lakhera is a TV journalist by profession; hence, the strength of this novel resides in its storytelling technique as it reaches out from an insider’s perspective.  Her personal research and experiences are visible in the book, as she successfully makes most of her characters unforgettable by the subtle handling of their personalities, their inner-conflicts, their strengths, their weaknesses and much more.

The brief epilogues available at the end of this book speak volumes about the maturity and seriousness of the author.

This book carries all the essential elements of entertainment including a gruesome take on the Indian film industry, which was left unexplored by the novelists.  

Reviewed by Varsha Singh

She Will Build Him A City by Raj Kamal Jha / Bloomsbury

Reviews, Vol. I, Issue III

Also available as an audiobook from Audible Studios.

Click to listen the sample audio

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There was a time when Midnight’s Children was being written not just by a person, but by a nation; here comes another time when another narrative of modern India has taken birth from the womb of a nation, instead of a mind. Rajkamal Jha’s novel She Will Build Him A City published by Bloomsbury India is such a saga which tells multiple tales entwined into one grand narrative; just like this nation - India, known for its oneness and plurality; divided by states, united by a nation.

The story is about the midnight’s grandchildren as well as the great grandchildren of the same night, who are out there on the streets of a city (which is going through the process of mallification) in order to build their own destinies. It is all visible in the pages of this book. The urge is clear; to tell a tale which has been craving to come out since quite some time.

The narrative begins with three different tales, of a Woman, a Man and a Child, enveloping various identities, ideas, viewpoints, emotions such as - love, horror, grief, guilt, destiny, belonging and forgiveness, altogether, but emerges as a single, unified tale by its edge. 

The story begins where it ends; as the capital city Delhi covers itself with the quilt of night, the woman - a mother, spins tales from her past for her sleeping daughter.

“This, tonight, is a summer night, hot, gathering dark, and that is a winter afternoon, cold, falling light, when you are eight years nine years old, when you come running to me, jumping commas skipping breadth, and you say, Ma, may I ask you something and I say, of course, baby, you  may ask me anything … “

Now an adult, her child is a puzzle with a million pieces, whom she hopes, through her words and her love, to somehow make whole again.

“Tonight is thirty years forty years later.

So quiet is this little house that I can hear, from upstairs, through the walls of the room in which you are lying, the drop of your tear, the rush of your breadth.

One’s like rain, the other wind, they both make me shiver.”

Meanwhile, a young man, thirty years, thirty—five years old, rides the last train from Rajiv Chowk Station and dreams of murder.

“He is going to kill and he is going to die.

That’s all we know for now, let’s see what happens in between.”

The narration is postmodern, indeed; as incidents keep merging from past and present, enveloping the technique of flashback, most importantly.

In another corner of the city, a newborn wrapped in a blood-red towel lies on the steps of an orphanage as his mother walks away.

“The night is so hot the moon shines like the sun, its light as bloodless white as bone, casting a cold shadow of a woman as she steps off an autorickshaw, carrying her newborn wrapped in a thin, blood-red towel, tells its driver to wait, walks up Little House, a home for children,, orphaned and destitute, leaves the baby on its doorstep, turns and walks away into a wind, slight but searing, that slaps her in the face and fills her eyes with water.

An essential and interesting instance is put together in the novel through a red balloon. As this thirty years, thirty—five years old man tries to get into a relationship with a beggar girl who sells red balloon; it immediately strikes a linking cord with a short French film Le Ballon Rouge (The Red Balloon) by Albert Lamorisse. Similar to the little boy in the film, the man anticipates the balloon girl flying with him in the sky taking him on a ride over the city.

It also relates to the famous song "Girl with the Red Balloon" written by John Paul White and Joy Williams, as well as with the widely acclaimed painting - “Girl with a Balloon” by Banksy.

The characters of Jha develop as develops his city – it becomes a character in itself.  

Intriguing, intense and intricate, this may seem as the story of a city and its people; but in reality, it is the story of a nation and its people.

Raj Kamal Jha has expertly blurred the division between the narrator and the narrated. His tricks are upright and probably make one turn back the pages to confirm themselves twice, thrice. His language is effortless but layered into manifolds. As a reader of this novel, it becomes essential to be doubly sure, what has been read just the past page.

His reliance on narrative techniques such as fragmentation, paradox, and the unreliable narrator are capable enough to deceive the readers while going through the revelations of the “New India”.

The blurb of Raj Kamal Jha’s She Will Build Him A City clarifies the soul of its narrative very well - There are twenty million bodies in this city, but the stories of this woman, man, and child--of a secret love that blossoms in the shadows of grief, of a corrosive guilt that taints the soul, and of a boy who maps his own destiny--weave in and out of the lives of those around them to form a dazzling kaleidoscope of a novel.

Reviewed by Varsha Singh

Managing Editor, Reviews

Whisper the Dead by Alyxandra Harvey / Bloomsbury

Reviews, Vol. I, Issue III

The second script of The Lovegrove legacy, Harvey brings many facets and beauty of literary fiction through the pages of this exuberant novel; a step ahead of the first book in the series. A vivid portrayal of imagination of the human mind and an essence of grace is showcased through this pace of writing.

As the plot advances, cousins Gretchen, Emma and Penelope are dealing with what it means to be a lovegrove. For Gretchen, it means she often feels that her head is going to explode. As a whisperer, Gretchen constantly hears the whispers of the witches’ spells, these in some parts are funny, though a bit irritating too in parts. While whispers help her to know when her own spells are going wrong, but on the other side the incessant buzzing and pain the whispers cause makes it difficult to use her gifts as a witch. These sequences are a joy to read, blended with suspense at its apex. Not only this, Gretchen through her deeds in various ways spreads the message of women empowerment too.

But when something evil starts to menace Mayfair, she tries to master her powers. Along with her cousins, the character of Moira is worth to mention, a madcap. Harvey brings out flawless romance through the irresistible and magnetic Tobias Lawless, but the good thing is romance is not the main ingredient of the recipe, like many other novels. It’s rather a sensational merge of humour, romance, suspense, a fast paced cliff-hanger plot, dark twists and other thrilling spices.

As the plot progresses, other characters are revealed through poetically vibrant metaphors, strong and lyrical adjectives, yes, it’s hazy and confusing in pieces but the other refreshing factors completely out shadows them. It has everything for burning a little of your pocket. A different taste guaranteed for the readers with a spellbound experience. A must read for getting the aroma of good literature.

Reviewed by Partho Mishra

He lives in Dhanbad, Jharkhand and can be contacted at parthomishra016@gmail.com 

Skylines by Neelam Saxena Chandra / Authorspress

Reviews, Vol. I, Issue III

Neelam Saxena Chandra's Skylines published by Authorspress gives a new hope and new wings to the field of creative writing; especially when the market seems jam packed with cheesy, pop-fictions. The author comes out successfully engrossing with her narrative ability, mainly, due to her flamboyant portrayal of women, which is rare to find.

Neelam's women are intrepid, factual, sincere and many things at same time. The fourteen short stories of this collection are unique and creatively rich in every sense.

Revolving around women protagonists, the stories are portrayal of several encounters, experiences and circumstances of the many lives lived by women, touching our real lives. You  may find them everywhere. But one needs to have keen eyes to notice the subtle encounters; Neelam has the eyes, indeed.

The writing style of Neelam Saxena Chandra is not repressed in any sense. Her strength lies is her simplicity. It is only through her simple words and phrases, she makes it sure to give a strong social message to each and every person of this society who believe in taking women for granted.

This book will be remembered for its difference rather than similarity with the trend of contemporary writings of our time.

Reviewed by Varsha Singh

The Half Mother by Shahnaz Bashir / Hachette India

EDITOR’S CHOICE

Reviews, Vol I, Issue II

How do you tell a tale which can’t have a regular ending? As the closure we look for, eludes us even in real life. However, these stories need to be told – they are screaming to be told. To leave them untold would be such a loss for humanity- there are lessons to be learnt. Also, it’s said that one thing more difficult than the beginning of a novel is knowing how to end it. The challenges would require deft handling of the content and mastering the craft of storytelling. Shahnaz Bashir’s debut novel The Half Mother does all these and more. Published by Hachette India, the novel is set in Kashmir in the 1990s.

The novel is divided into three parts – Book I, II & III. The first two parts are narrated in the authorial voice. Book III represents the Random Notes by one of the characters in the novel, Izhar, a correspondent working for the BBC. Relegating the job of taking the narrative forward to one of the characters makes it interesting and shows the craft of the writer. Izhar as a character is both the observer and the observed, being and becoming the narrator.

The novel tells a story of a woman - Haleema - searching for her disappeared son, Imran. Haleema is the only child of Ab Jaan – real name Ghulam Rasool Joo and Boba of Natipora. Ab Jaan is an industrious man making his ends meet by dabbling into various odd jobs and finally keeping a general provision store.

At the age of eight, Haleema lost her mother Boba to tuberculosis. Haleema married a medical assistant. The marriage ended in just three months when Haleema learns that her husband is having an affair with a nurse. Imran is the child of this marriage.

Shahnaz Bashir captures the emotion of a single mother raising her child delicately:

He (Imran) did not resemble Haleema, though – the medical assistant came through in the face. He had the same long face, yet sharper and unflinching eyes. But he had Haleema’s dimples and his fingers were short and stubby like hers, with cuticles overlapping the white crescents under the nails.

Ignoring the stark similarities between him and his father, Haleema passionately and desperately lied to herself. She dismisses the similitude and likened the boy to herself, declaring that he was a part of her being. ‘See, my dimples, my fingernails’, she readily offers while praising the baby before people could begin saying that he resembled his father.

Haleema desperately erases the absent father from the frame of reference. She is resolute in claiming Imran as her and hers only and she is resolute in seeking Imran out when calamity hits.

The following paragraph captures the childhood sensibilities of Imran beautifully:

The birds that darted about the farm always brought back a painful memory for Imran. He had once let his catapult loose on a sparrow that had made her nest in a small hole on a wall. He had killed the bird to impress himself with his sharpshooting skills, which he had not believed he had until the pebble hit the bird right on its rump. He dug a tiny grave for her behind the cowshed, and after completing all funeral rites, he discovered naked chirping nestlings. He tried to redeem himself by feeding the chicks and guarding them from eagles and crows. But one by one all three of them died. To assuage his guilt, he would allow birds to bite into the collard saplings or the bottle-gourds whenever Ab Jaan wasn’t looking.

Now the tempest hits the valley and the people of Natipora. The year is 1990.

And then, suddenly, gunfire tore the still air. Two insurgents attacked the contingent from two alleys – the first attack on the army in Natipora. . . . All the other boys who were playing cricket with him immediately dispersed and ran for their lives.

. . . At dawn, Natipora sluggishly came back to life. . . .Haleema and Ab Jaan stonily surveyed for Imran.

   Imran emerged a few hours later. Haleema felt breathless while hugging him.

. . . Imran explained everything. How he had escaped to another locality he had hardly been to. How difficult, while running randomly in desperation , it had been to decide where he should have actually gone.

And then the response came from the army:

The next morning, a patrolling party led by a Major Aman Lal Kushwaha began to search the houses. Almost all the men in the neighbourhood received their share of beating in turns. The army was still angry over the attacks.

Bashir captures the humiliation and shame that the civilians have to go through in a battle between the army and the insurgents.

The army called out the male members once they were outside the gate. Ab Jaan decided to go and open the gate but Haleema didn’t let him. ‘Don’t worry, I will be all right’, Ab Jaan assured her darkly. . . .What is this? You beat everyone. There are civilians in this locality yet you burn down our shops, you snatch away our living and now you are torturing us. Don’t you have shame?’ Ab Jaan argued bravely, yet  trembling.

            ‘Shut up or I’ll kill you! Kushwaha threatened.       

. . . Three bullets were pumped into Ab Jaan. One in the neck. One in the heart. One in the stomach.

The ‘truth’ of this raid by the army is reported to the world by Izhar Ahmad, the correspondent working for the BBC.

‘I was here in Natipora the whole day, recording the tragedy. I went around to the burial too. Just need some details from you, if you are willing, to substantiate the news. The truth needs to be confirmed, as you know’, he said.

In another raid, Imran is picked up by the army leaving Haleema devastated.

The trooper bundled Imran into the Gypsy and hastily leapt behind him. . . . Haleema ran in front of the vehicle and knelt in front of its bonnet, breathing hard, begging and crying for Imran’s release. A trooper dragged her aside and the Gypsy picked up speed.

Haleema pleaded,

‘What is his crime?’ What has he done? You are mistaken! You know you are mistaken! Why do you do this to me?’

. . .

“He is my only son, Sir! He. . .’ Haleema was desperate.

But for army personnel, “A man means a medal.”

This is where the search for her disappeared son begins for Haleema. She becomes a half mother.

‘Since we don’t know the status of your respective relatives who have disappeared... we don’t know whether they are alive or not ... we cannot describe you as widows, or whatever the case may be. We are talking legal language here, and the status matters. So, for all such uncertain cases for women whose husbands have disappeared, we will prefix their status with “Half”,’ Advocate Farooq Ahmad explained.

             Half. The word ringed in Haleema’s head. A cold pinch.

‘And what about mothers, Farooq sahib?’ Haleema asked. ‘Are they half mothers by rule?’

Everyone turned to her. Silence. . . .Whether their children were dead or alive or missing, mothers would remain mothers – but Advocate Farooq was not sure. He didn’t know how to respond to Haleema. He couldn’t be certain what status of victimhood should be attested to her.

‘So am I a half mother?’ Haleema repeated.

This legalese of being a half mother occurs, though, much later in the narrative. The frenetic and desperate search for her son becomes the reason to live for Haleema. She becomes the symbol for all the mothers who have lost their children to this barbaric, involuntary disappearance.

Haleema goes from one place to other, from prison to prison, from one army camp to other, from the prayer halls to the politicians, from one torture camp to another. However, nothing seems to help. Every small hint prepares her to search more and even more.

These expeditions bring her and the readers to the reality of the torture camps and the social-political reality of Kashmir of the 1990s.

Almost a decade later, in 1999, after a long enquiry, the army is willing to negotiate, however, the justice they offer is not justice at all. They offer monetary compensation which Haleema refuses.

‘I won’t live longer than the money I have saved. And what would I do with the money  you are offering me? Would it assuage my pain? No. I don’t want any justice from you. Not really. You are incapable of justice. If you honestly want to help me, tell me what happened to my son? What did they, I mean Major Aman Kushwaha, do with him? Is my son alive or . . . ‘ She broke down.

To assuage her feelings the colonel informs Haleema:

‘The least I can tell you is this: Major Aman Lal Kushwaha was killed long ago in an attack on the border.’

Kashmir of 1990s is such a paradox that a search for the victim is also a search for the victimiser. Hearing the news of the death of Kushwaha, Haleema felt sad.

Kushwaha was her one and only hope for Imran’s whereabouts. She was stunned at hearing the news, but not relieved. She grieved at the fact that he had been the only one who could tell her what happened to Imran, and now, with the news of her death, she was half-certain about Imran too.

This is not what she has been searching for. This is not the justice she was wishing for. This is no justice at all for Haleema.

In this novel of 182 pages Shahnaz Bashir has sketched complex characters in a nuanced way to tell us the heartbreaking story of a mother’s search for her disappeared son. This novel brings us face to face with a dark period in our history, which refuses to be ignored, which we mustn't ignore.

Earlier in the novel, Imran one day requests Ab Jaan to come to his school.

‘Yes, Ab Jaan, You must come some day and talk to the principal about that. The other day our History teacher Mrs Teja Thussu tweaked my ear when I asked her a simple question . . .’

. . . ‘I asked her why we were never taught the history of Kashmir. How can one study about Mesopotamia and Indus Valley and Harappa and this and that civilization but not a bit about the place one hails from?’

. . . ‘Then I thought Kashmir had no real history, otherwise I would not have been punished.’

. . . Ab Jaan sniggered. ‘Until we stop oppressing ourselves others will never stop oppressing us. Remember this. Mark my words . . . Everything has a history. And we have a firm history. Our own history. Except the fact that it has never seen the light of day.’

Shahnaz Bashir’s The Half Mother brings the history of Kashmir of the 1990s under focus, wrapped in a poignant tale of a mother’s search for her disappeared son.

Reviewed by Himanshu Shekhar Choudhary

Editor-in-Chief - Reviews.

He teaches at the Dept. of English, P. K. Roy Memorial College, Dhanbad.