There Are Rivers in the Sky by Elif Shafak begins with the omniscient “character” literally falling into the story. A water molecule which takes the form of a raindrop and lands in the hair of King Ashurbanipal, the last king of the doomed city of Nineveh. From there, the book follows three timelines which are visited in different forms by this same water molecule.
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As a staunch supporter of books reflecting the diversity of South Asian voices and experiences, I love that Gold Diggers by Sanjena Sathian is a story grounded in real life struggles bolstered by ancient magic and spirituality, history, and a nerve-jangling heist.
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Gold is a precious material in Indian culture. It represents prosperity, fertility, good fortune – basically, all the things you want to have when starting a new life and establishing a family. For Hindus, gold is also connected to the goddess Laxshmi. As well as its spiritual richness, it has also represented a quiet power in the hands of women for centuries when practices like dowry and bride price were common.
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I picked up up Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard at the beginning of this year – I’ll let you work out which events prompted me to reach for this book about a guy who garners a lot of adoring followers that sincerely believe he has the answers to everything – because as we know, books are a way of contextualizing the world.
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Rosarita, Desai’s newest novel, is the story of Bonita, a young Indian woman from New Delhi who has come to San Miguel, Mexico for Spanish immersion courses. One day in the Jardín, she is confronted by the woman Vicky who becomes The Stranger and later, The Trickster. The Stranger claims to have known Bonita’s mother, Sunita. Except, The Stranger calls her Rosarita. Rosarita, insists The Stranger, was once a great artist who had travelled from India to learn from the great painters of Mexico.
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It’s an open secret that migration is the backbone of our food systems. And Punjabi workers are an essential part of the Italian cheese industry.
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Like any respectable Indian family, the Shantis didn’t use the house kitchen, they cooked in their garage.
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The home mandir is integral to daily living. It’s your ‘last stop’ before you start your day and before you go to bed. If something good happens, you go here to show your gratitude. When something challenging or terrible happens, you come here for comfort and strength.
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Granted, the cartoon sidewalks are usually spotless apart from the occasional pile of leaves and errant chewing gum, but that doesn’t mean it would have been any better if they’d taken their shoes off. Feet on books? No. Just, NO.
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I would argue that we were raised to see the best parts of our culture and that some of it was made visible via Bollywood. However, this was a world we visited rather than took at face value as the life we should be expected to lead. It is that which has allowed me to hold these films dear whilst still being critical.
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