Growing with Grief
In the summer of 2021, as the second wave of Covid lashed the country, taking down so many people and tearing families asunder, Andaleeb Wajid, her husband Mansoor and her mother-in-law all contracted the virus. Andaleeb and her mother-in-law went into one hospital, her husband into another. Hospitalisation did not equal recovery in this case, and soon, the author’s mother-in-law succumbed to the deadly virus. A mere five days later, Andaleeb lost her husband, too. And things were never the same again.
Andaleeb is a popular and prolific writer who has published 50 books in the past 15 years.
Writing this memoir was clearly an act of catharsis, and the one standout is the book’s blazing honesty. Andaleeb takes us through her relatively young life, sharing with the reader the pain of losing a beloved father when she was a preteen, settling for a marriage planned by her parents, learning to grow into the roles of wife and mother, experiencing the pain of a miscarriage, and then the joy of delivering two children who are now her support system as much as she is theirs.
Talking about grief, Andaleeb writes: “It wasn’t an all-consuming black hole instead, it made me feel as if I’d been tied to a rocky hilltop, where waves kept crashing on me, breaking me, eroding me.”
There is immense courage in the book; there is looking sorrow directly in the eye, and there is getting one’s act together, bringing one’s sense of self-worth to the forefront. There is a vein of wry humour in her details of everyday life with those who have left her and now, without them. There is a nod to her writing, which has brought a kind of succour in its wake. And beyond the personal, we share the horrors of Covid times with Andaleeb.
A special shout-out to the evocative chapter heads in the memoir (He Was Going to Be Fine/The Beginning of the End/Doing Nothing Doesn’t Work/Time Travel) and the cover illustration, which will have readers resting their eyes contemplatively on it for a few moments before starting the book.
Given her felicity with the turned phrase and her direct, frill-free style of narration, the memoir makes for a moving read that never once falls into a maudlin trough. In fact, it resonates with the reader as it gently imparts the lesson of how to pick up the pieces and move on in life, recognising that healing takes time, recognising the limitations placed on a grieving woman, and acknowledging the dose of pragmatism required even as one stashes away all the precious memories.
Everything Andaleeb has gained in life, she has worked for. Now, sadly, that includes healing, calm and equanimity.