Motherhood is never a straightforward subject to write about. It carries the weight of expectations from the outside world and the conflicts within. To say anything unconventional about motherhood almost always demands explanations. In her debut novel, Shape of an Apostrophe, Uttama Kirit Patel tackles this head-on through Lina, a feminist character who never wanted to be a mother but finds herself accidentally pregnant within a year of marriage—a premise that challenges our traditional notions that women are destined to want motherhood.
The story examines the gendered burdens on women in a family. Why are women judged so harshly when they reject traditional roles? Why must they hold the weight of emotional labour and family expectations when men receive a guilt-free pass even when they opt out of fatherly responsibilities? With these questions, Patel weaves a profound story of grief, loss, and freedom.
Lina, whose mother died during childbirth, grows up with buried family secrets that are gradually revealed to her as the story proceeds. As she comes to terms with these revelations and grapples with the reality of an unwanted motherhood in UAE, a country where abortion is illegal, she struggles to manage her emotions and searches for a sense of peace. The death of her father leaves her devastated. And yet, amid the emotional weight she is already carrying, the loss also brings a certain sense of purpose to her life.
Meenakshi, Lina’s mother-in-law, and Shobha, the daughter of her father’s servant, are two other characters who capture the diversity of womanhood and its multiple dimensions.
Lina’s introduction to the traditionalist Meenakshi is difficult from the outset. “She wants to keep her last name. She won’t touch my feet in the mandap. Lina doesn’t believe in buri nazar... Two days a week, she’ll stay at her father’s. She wants a wine fridge... How many more of these are left for Meenakshi to hear?”
Throughout the novel, their relationship remains strained, but an underlying understanding resurfaces when Meenakshi confesses to Lina at the end, “you will be braver than your heart. You know how I know? We are north poles apart. But in this, my dear, we are the same.”
Lina’s husband, Ishaan, is a typical man; he has a sense of responsibility, but is unable to fully understand the turmoil that Lina is going through. The recurring metaphor of water in swimming, floating, and drowning mirrors Lina’s emotional journey. She goes to water for solace, to find freedom.
The lives of other characters are intertwined with the protagonist, but they are also explored by their individual identities. Each character stands apart, connected, yet disconnected. This sense of fragmentation and longing is also shaped by the novel’s setting within the Indian diaspora in the Gulf, where even those born there are denied citizenship.
The writing style employs a stream-of-consciousness technique, which can be difficult to follow at times, as the story shifts frequently between characters, and the sentences are deliberately intertwined. At times, it feels like pausing and reflecting on what the author has written; at others, there’s an urge to flip through the pages as quickly as possible. Despite dealing with serious themes, the novel maintains humour in its dialogues—capturing a sense of relief we often manage to steal in life.