How does one process the loss of a loved one? Is there a formula that makes coping easier? What is the language of grief, and of love? Chetna Maroo’s Booker Prize-shortlisted Western Lane attempts to answer such questions through the story of a Gujarati-British immigrant family. At the centre is Gopi, who along with her sisters, Mona and Khushi, is struggling to move on after the death of their mother. Their emotionally distant Pa doesn’t seem to be able to wrap his head around the loss.
Maroo uses this skeletal premise and beefs it up with a heart-rending tale, which brings the family together. The author gives us a quick background of the characters, and language plays a critical role. While Pa is conversant in both English and Gujarati, the mother could communicate only in the latter, and the daughters, being British born, are only fluent in the Queen’s language.
Interestingly, Maroo uses the language barrier between the girls and their mother not to drift them apart, but bring them closer. Devoid of the right words, physical intimacy became their language of love. She was also the link between the daughters and their father. So, her death creates a void between them, and a large part of the narrative focuses on the latter’s efforts to bridge the gap. Pa’s solution? Playing squash together at Western Lane. The sport becomes his language of love, particularly towards Gopi, the youngest.
It helps Pa deal with his own demons of identity crisis. After his wife’s demise, he feels further away from the Gujarati community in town. He notes how his family has stopped “looking like all other Gujarati families”, reiterating the sense of displacement. Squash helps him reinstate the idea of permanence for his daughters. It is something, he believes, will stay with them even after his death.
Maroo also explores the relationship between grief and privilege in the novel. When Pa is left alone to care for his daughters, overwhelmed by grief, he keeps missing work appointments. Mona, the eldest daughter, who too has stepped up to assume a more responsible role in the household, worries about how long they can keep up with their living costs. Sample this: “She said he was letting his customers down by missing appointments and even though people felt sympathy for his circumstances, they weren’t going to forget that their lights were out or their fridges were broken, and no one came. No one was going to forget that when they needed him, Pa was at Western Lane.”
Unlike most diasporic literature, however, the author doesn’t exploit the overused trauma trope to tug at the heartstrings. Her weapon of choice is grief, and she draws a clear line between the two. That is why perhaps readers have admitted to have found it hard to resonate with Maroo’s writing. But, once you do find the connect, it is not difficult to appreciate the beauty of Western Lane, which lies in its understated pain and things left unsaid.
Western Lane
By: Chetna Maroo
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Price: Rs 599
Pages: 176