Book Review: The Half Mother by Shahnaz Bashir

Gupkar Road, Srinagar — Picture by Anurag Arora

We pride ourselves in living in a meta-modernist era, where free-market economy, the internet, and globalization have brought the world together, where supranational institutions keep an eye for deviations from “the normal”, where human rights violations are condemned, where people’s wishes are considered sacrosanct. Yet, we witness events that exhibit primitive brutality, scaling up to the supposedly anachronic acts of violence.

Such is the narrative of this book; the co-existence of the contradicting values and claims, and the destruction that it engenders. It is the story of the beauty and the beast, the beauty that is Kashmir and the beast that is its volatile identity. It is a love story between the two, where love is lost in obscurity, however.

The author draws an evocative character of Kashmir as it was in the 1990s, the time of the covert war, ripples from which are still felt today. He successfully connects all the elements that are apposite to Kashmir of the time; the ecology (paddy fields, meadows, poplar trees, cherry orchards, horse chestnut trees), the architecture, the food (collard greens, knol khol, Rogan josh, rice), the nature of the society (a very collectivist society), the religion, the filial relations, the traditions, the division of classes, the extant characteristics of family units, the rise in the insurgency, youth crossing border, the anecdotes of violation of women’s modesty, the alleged atrocities committed by the army, the violent turn of events, the killings and the arrests (abductions), the public uproar, the struggle of the families, the limitations on the media (newspapers, radios, tv), the inefficiency of the politicians and the bureaucrats, the facetious governmental support, and the solidarity sought amongst the sufferers.

All along, it is a journey of a mother who in her lonesome, searches for her son who was snatched by the authorities. Her torture is aggrandized by the lack of information on the welfare of her son; she couldn’t be sure if he were still alive. It is certainly not a happy read. Some moments would bring a lump to one’s throat. It is bold and explicit with small episodes of pronounced violence. The author successfully delivers a profound tale that arouses emotions and makes you empathize with the mother. The profundity lies in the dread that originates when the mother realizes the meaninglessness of her life without her father and especially her son and the oblivion that lies ahead.

A phantom of desolation shrouds the words that emanate from the book. I scuffled with my mind to transfigure the black and white imagery into the colourful, picturesque Kashmir I once visited. My attempts were only partially successful in turning my mind to the verdure of the spring and an all-seasonal scarlet.

I recommend reading the dreadful tale and questioning our position in the world and what we are doing to make it a better place. Also, don’t forget that it’s a fictional book.