Rootless on foreign soil

Shiva

When a novel by an Indian diaspora has a family of Indian immigrants at its heart, it is but natural to expect an overwhelming dose of nostalgia for the lost homeland. Search for identity, return to roots, and problems of history are the regular themes which pop up in diaspora writings. However, this fine-grained narrative takes us on an exploration of emotions that are different but are as compelling and captivating as nostalgia. That is not to say that there is an absolute absence of it; Sawhney does summon nostalgia – not for the distant motherland but for the dead mother. South Haven is an evocative tale of loss and grief, with teenage angst, extremist fervour and lingering despair added to cauldron of emotions.

The plot brilliantly captures life of a teenager, Siddharth Arora, who lives in an imaginary suburb of New England, as he muddles through life after his mother’s death in a car accident. He finds himself in the midst of an overwhelming vacuum of loneliness when his brother, Arjun, leaves for higher studies and his father, Mohan Lal, gets into a relationship with Mrs Farber. Stumbling through his dim life for a way through, he makes some choices that unwittingly drag his vulnerable self into a shallow world of smoking and drinking. His reality is mired in locating himself in the social hierarchy of the middle school, witnessing his father’s slow decline into depression, and searching for a place to belong.

Much of the novel’s content is composed of everyday lives of the main characters. By providing glimpses of their dreary routines, the writer masterfully imparts a subtle, subdued tone to the narrative. Grief is not only tied to loss but also manifests itself in the remaking of life, impeccably attaching itself to any silver lining in the protagonist’s clouded reality. Mrs Faber’s entry into the Arora family initially seems like the much needed light at the end of the tunnel. However, despite being pleasant, she offers little towards soothing the forlorn teenage soul. Likewise, karate classes and friendship with her son Marc are nothing more than fleeting rays of hope.

Besides portrayal of uneasy relationships post a tragedy, depiction of India is another distinctive feature of Sawney’s narrative, which shows the country through the eyes of a second-generation immigrant to US. Siddharth’s view of India is as different as it could be from his predecessors. To him, India is heat and dust, and Indian gods feminine. “The thought of travelling to that dirty, godforsaken shithole puts dread in his stomach.” Disgusted by this repulsive image of his homeland, he alienates himself from his Indian/Asian identity. In fact, he prides himself for having a light skin and hates his father’s hairy arms and heavily accented speech.

That being the case, he is evidently appalled at learning that Arjun has a Pakistani girlfriend. This shock has its origin, in part, in Mohan Lal’s deep-rooted hatred for Muslims. Driven by extreme ideas, Mohan Lal vehemently supports Hindu fanatics who brutally kill innocent Muslims. His Islamophobia and Hindu fundamentalism unarguably strengthen the belief that our prejudices often have nothing to do with our lived experiences of reality.

By tastefully delving into the anatomy of loss and grief, Sawney depicts a version of adolescent life that is scarred but, curiously, often untroubled by the imminent consequences. It is heartbreaking to see the portrayal of young irreverent American lives meandering around nothingness in absence of a strong anchor. Written with utmost honesty and sensitivity, the book also opens our eyes to the fragmented, polarised, and bigoted world in which we are raising our children. However, it ends in quite an unexpected manner. Thus, a tale that starts with a loss comes full circle.