Please look after Mother by Kyung-Sook Shin

 

Please look after Mother is the story of Park So-nyo, who gets separated from her husband in a crowded subway station in Seoul. The story begins with her children beginning a search for her by printing and distributing fliers all around Seoul, in the hope that someone would help them find their mother.

 

The story is narrated from the perspectives of the mother, daughter, son and husband. Initially, the style of the narrative (in second person) is tedious to read, but once you settle into a rhythm, the story goes on smoothly. The premise of the story is true universally for all mothers and especially so in an Asian setting. In general mothers are taken for granted by children and in this story one can relate to the sacrifices made by Park So-nyo for her family all the while not expressing her thoughts on her situation even when her health is failing.

 

The characters of Hyong Chol, her favorite child and Chi-Hon the writer daughter are the ones who begin the active search for their mother. And this leads to them wondering how well did they know the woman who was their mother. It is heart rending when they find out that they do not have a recent photo of their mother.

 

The book feels melancholic as it progresses, mainly because it makes you reflect on your own relationships. It also makes you realize that we should take the time to know those we love.

 

However, among the five children of which only four are alive, the book describes the view of just two children and fails to mention the views of the other two children. That said it is a bitter sweet but interesting story of post war Korean society and the burden women carry single handedly on their shoulders.

 

 

The Stationery Shop of Tehran

The Stationery Shop of Tehran by Marjan Kamali was on my "to be read" list for a long time. This novel deals with love, loss and characters that fill your thoughts long after you have finished reading the book.

The story is about Roya and Bahman Aslan who meet in a stationery shop for the first time and fall in love. The shop run by Mr. Fakhri has translated books of literature from all over the world. While their relationship blossoms, Tehran is in turmoil. Soon violence erupts in the country, and Roya rushes to meet Bahman at a place where in a letter he had asked her to meet. When Roya reaches the place,  violence erupts and gun shots are heard. While she looks for Bahman in the crowd, Mr. Fakhri rushes to meet Roy in a bid to rectify his mistake in miscommunicating their meeting place. In a twist of fate Mr. Fakri dies as he comes in the way of a gun shot.  

When she is unable to meet Bahman and is depressed over it, Roya's father decides to send his daughters abroad for higher studies. Did Roya get over her love for Bahman? Did they meet in the end? Did they marry somebody else and move on in life, makes up the rest of the story.

The story is beautifully written with a few twists and with a bitter sweet ending.

Kitchen

"Kitchen" by Banana Yoshimoto is a book about mothers, grief, love and tragedy and Kitchens. The protagonist of this novel uses the kitchen in times of grief and loneliness.

Satsuki is taken by a friend's family when she faces grief due to the death of her grandmother. How she tackles her grief, does she recover from remorse to lead a better life, makes up the rest of the story.

Overall a well written novel.

Alias Grace

When I picked up The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood, I thought it was a little slow moving and I gave up reading after 50 pages. So it was with great trepidation I picked Alias Grace by the same author and it was unputdownable. It's a fictionalised true story that happened in the 1800s.

Grace the protagonist of the story is somehow involved in a double murder and her partner in crime is hanged for it. Grace due to behavioural disorders is sent to a lunatic asylum. She is then shunted to the penitentiary and serves time. She also works as a maid in the governor's house. Twenty years into her imprisonment, a doctor arrives and listens to her tale at the behest of the Reverend of the church.

Dr. Simon Jordan arrives daily at the governor's house and tries to understand Grace and her story. He meticulously writes down her story, hoping that he would be able to get her a pardon and release from the penitentiary.

Does Simon succeed, did Grace get out of the penitentiary, makes up the rest of the story. Atwood's writing is outstanding, with a deep understanding of human behaviour. Each character is well etched that it  will remain in memory for a long time. 

I am glad I read the book before watching the series of the same name on Netflix.

Now I have to read The Handmaid's Tale next.

Do you remember?

 

Do you remember how we tended the Edward rose bush, thorns scratching our skin?

Do you remember how after a few minutes of pruning the garden, you would shimmy-up the neem tree and jump down crying out loud after getting bitten by red ants.

While you gave up pruning altogether, I continued, plants flourished under my green thumb.

Years later, my green thumb passed on to you. Your garden flourished and my balcony perished.

Do you remember when we fought, you would curse that one day my garden would perish? Did that unintended childish curse come true?

I smile sadly at the withering fern in my balcony at the memory.

Do you remember? ...

 

The Sorcery

It all started when I enrolled in math tuition. I had to walk along a narrow trail. The sides of the trail were dense with a few thorny bushes and the dreaded parthenium. Also known as broom weed or rag weed, the pollen from this plant can exacerbate bronchitis/asthma in people. This plant also helped students spew a variety of excuses to bunk classes, while my weak excuse of skin rashes didn’t draw any sympathy. I had to walk this trail for about 500 meters to reach the main road.

As I entered the main road, I saw two of my classmates walking ahead of me. I slowed down, staying a few paces behind them. My classmates were from distant villages and went there for their vacations. They returned with a lot of stories of incidents they encountered back there. I wished that my folks too had a home in the village.

 

I gathered from their conversation that there had been a robbery in one of their villages. As they talked, one of the girls turned and spotted me. They waited for me to catch up and we crossed into an adjoining lane together, leading to the teacher’s house. The classes were held in our teacher’s home on the weekends, and on evenings before an exam.

 

We were a little early that day. We sat down in the open verandah which was also our classroom. A mud pot filled with water was kept in a corner, a blackboard and chairs occupied one end of the verandah. We sat on the plastic chairs and heard animated voices from inside the house. A piece of jewelry and some cash had apparently gone missing that morning, and the teacher’s wife suspected the house help.

 

As the voices faded away, my friend began her story of a robbery in her village. Apparently, her grandmother had a huge house where she lived with her three sons and their families. She had taken care of all the finances and the management of the farm from the time her husband took ill. One day, she found the money in the cupboard missing. Among her three uncles in the house, the middle one usually got into trouble due to his wayward nature. He was prone to drinking or gambling and all fingers pointed towards him. The money in question had been set aside to construct a new wing in the backyard for guests when they came visiting. 

 

When things like this happened, my friend explained, villagers didn’t go to the cops but used their own methods. Her grandmother had sent word to the village priest, who would be able to use his power of sorcery to find the culprit.

 

Soon, a short man with flowing beard and a large vermilion dot on his forehead entered. He had a wooden staff, the head of which had an engraved skull. He waved the staff about as he walked around the house. He stopped under the white gulmohar tree and looked up. Then he bent down, picked up a pod and stared at it. While the kids found his antics funny, the adults watched in reverence.

 

“He then bowed to my grandmother and asked her to lead him to the puja room,” said Parvati  eyes gleaming with excitement. “In the center of one of the walls, there’s a bronze pedestal where the family deity is kept. Apparently, this rock was found by our ancestors when tilling their land about a hundred years ago. They believed that this divine rock was the mother who would help them flourish.”

“A decorated seat had been placed for the priest. He sat down and asked for various tools which were brought and placed before him. Finally, he asked for two large betel leaves and an empty coconut shell. He then lit the large lamp in the room. Taking some cotton, he dipped it in ghee and showed it to the flame. As it lit up, he placed it in the coconut shell and covered it with a silver plate. 

 

Soon he began chanting something under his breath. As we waited, he took the plate off the coconut shell. It was covered with soot on one side. Taking a betel leaf, he painted it with the soot using his finger and chanted some more. Soon he opened his eyes and looked around. He called my grandmother and said he was ready to find the culprit. He then looked at the blackened betel leaf and said that he could see the culprit standing under a mango tree, waiting at a bus stop. The man was wearing a yellow shirt and a dhoti. My cousins and I didn’t believe a word he said, but my grandmother waited for the man, who was still staring at the betel leaf, to finish. 

“There he is! he yelled. “Go right away and you can catch him.’’ 

“My grandmother immediately sent her farm hands, who returned with the culprit. He was fleeing to the next town with the money. The man was related to the middle uncle’s wife. He then apologized for taking the money and was let off with a few beatings.

 

Soon the teacher arrived and our class began. As we were getting ready to leave, after the class, a boy’s father came by to pick up his son. He had already heard the news of the missing jewel. He asked our teacher if he wanted help in finding the culprit. When the teacher said he was thinking of going to the cops, the man said he knew a person who would be far more efficient than the cops. He said he would send such a person, and left.

 

The next day, as we arrived at the teacher’s house, the house help was being fired. We found out she had returned the goods she had stolen the previous day. 

 

 

 

Zikora

 Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Zikora is a quick Kindle read. It's a well written story of a woman who finds herself pregnant and abandoned by her boyfriend. Though she has a less than affectionate relationship with her mother, it is her mother who helps her get through her situation and in birthing her child.

Reading this story made me feel that this story will resonate with women throughout this world.