In Sarojini’s Mother, Sarojini-Saz-Campbell comes to India to search for her biological mother. Adopted and taken to England at an early age, she has a degree from Cambridge and a mathematician’s brain adept in solving puzzles. Handicapped by a missing shoebox that held her birth papers and the death of her English mother, she has few leads to carry out her mission and scant knowledge of Calcutta, her birthplace.

Through an emotionally intense journey of survival and mental demons – Sarojini discovers how the concept of motherhood is much more nuanced than simple biology.

Chiru Sen, an Elvis lookalike, becomes her guide and confidante on this journey. Find a glimpse of their first meeting in the excerpt below.

It was easy to spot Saz at the Rex. She was sitting by herself near the window. At first glance she looked Indian, but not fully so, given the way she was flapping the menu around awkwardly, troubled by the flies. She nodded when I mentioned Idris and pointed to the seat across from her. Then she gave a start as I grabbed the menu from her hand and swatted a fly that was about to perch on her half-eaten croissant.

‘Did you have to kill it!’ She scowled; eyes fixed on the dead fly.

‘Not unless you wished to share your meal with it!’ Shrugging, I tried to lighten the air.

She didn’t speak to me for a good while, kept her eyes locked on my face. From her puzzled look you could see she wasn’t expecting Idris’s friend to resemble a rock star. ‘Why do you dress like a dead man?’ Saw asked.

Right away I knew she was special and why Suleiman was bent on saving her from being spoilt.

‘The King isn’t dead!’ I joked.

‘Really! If he was alive, his hair would’ve fallen out by now. Would you have shaved your head then?’ Regaining her composure after the fly incident, she returned tot he croissant, taking small bites and chewing thoroughly.

Words came to my lips, but I kept them closed hoping to hear some more from Saz.

‘Or are you hoping he lives on through you? Like we want our parents and grandparents to keep on living forever.’

I wasn’t expecting philosophy straight up, I have to confess, not before we had discussed matters of hygiene at least. Like the condition of her flat and toilet and the owner’s demeanour, whether she had managed to acquire an Indian SIM for her phone, and stayed healthy from her travels.

Finished with her meal, she avoided the Rex’s yellowing napkin and took out a pack of tissues to wipe her lips. Then she cut into my thoughts.

‘It isn’t all bad to imagine we are somebody else. Especially if there is confusion over who we really are.’

She appeared calm, and the words coming out of her mouth were crisp and clear. Much as I was prepared to strike up a Geordie, a Brummie or a Cockney, her English was clearly BBC.

‘Especially if we aren’t sure where we’ve come from, or where we belong?’

It was my turn for lofty talk, and a chance to impress my new friend. ‘Which is…’

‘Which is true for half the people on this planet!’ She took the words right out of my mouth, ‘like the two of us—you a Bengali Elvis and me a brown Saz Campbell from Bromley!’

Smart girl!—I thought. She was playing my role, out of the wings and joining up two strangers with nothing more than a few chosen words.

Did I want a coffee of the cinnamon tea she’d ordered, Saz asked when the waiter came around. I shook my head. It was too early in our friendship to have her buy me refreshments. ‘A croissant perhaps?’ She smiled, pointing to the menu and keeping it out of my reach to avoid another unnecessary killing.

I wasn’t expecting Suleiman’s ‘girl’ to be a stunner, but her smile was quite extraordinary. The eyes are the most revealing, they say, but in her case it was definitely the smile. Dressed Western but Indian in looks, it made her out to be her own person unattached to a place of birth or home address.

The bestselling author of The Japanese Wife is back with an intimate look at human connections, friendships and family.

Saz, Chiru and his band members set off to help Saz look for her birth mother. Will they be successful? Find out in Kunal Basu’s, Sarojini’s Mother!

So All Is Peace is a story of twin sisters – Layla and Tanya, who were anointed the ‘Starving Sisters’ when they were found to be starving in an upper middle class gated apartment complex in Delhi. Their news became instantly sensational and nobody could figure out what had caused two educated, beautiful women to starve themselves.

Here are some excerpts from Vandana Singh-Lal’s book, So All Is Peace, that highlights the feelings of alienation that the girls experienced while living in a big city.

Living in Delhi, Layla and Tanya were taught to avoid places where women felt vulnerable to inappropriate glances. Tanya remembers,

“With our carefully controlled outings with Mamma and Papa—shopping only at the malls, going to school in the school bus and to college in university-special or U-special as they are called; never going to any religious festival or a fair or any place where there may be crowds and the potential for a stampede (which was almost every place in Delhi)—our experience of groping fingers and lascivious glances was almost non-existent and we entered the territory that came with being a woman in Delhi or perhaps anywhere in India, unprepared, naked and woefully unarmed.”

*

Soon after their parents passed away, Tanya recalls an incident when feelings of loneliness gripped her, and she couldn’t discuss her harrowing experience of sexual assault with anyone around.

“Like sparks flying out of a short-circuit, it spewed out stray thoughts that I had nobody to share with, pieces of conversations that I could not have, bits of passages that nobody was present to hear, tears of sympathetic neighbours that had no place inside me, whispers of curious onlookers that I could not hide away from, the buzzing and sparking and searing and the absolute emptiness of a house where every room was still filled with the paraphernalia of the living but where everything had died.”

*

With Tanya relocating to Andhra Pradesh, Layla started dating Deepak. He often came to their house because,

“In a country where everything takes place outside in the open, where people bathe, eat, pray, sleep, shit, fight, play, kill and die on the road, the only thing that does not and that cannot happen on the road is love; the making of it, the display of it, or even the allusion to it, except in the larger than life film posters. But the posters too remain coy, allegorical, metaphorical. No kissing is allowed on the roads of the country, no holding of hands, no looking for too long into each others’ eyes either. So Layla had to find a place for them to meet and a relationship; a veneer however thin or translucent or unconvincing.”

*

Raman, the award-winning journalist, who has been tasked to write about the ‘Starving Sisters’ had begun to have strong feelings for Tanya.

Although he had spent relatively short time with her in person, he had devoted long hours to her mentally, analyzing the smallest of her gestures and the tiniest of inflictions in her voice ad-infinitum, and something in her had suggested a kind of depth that he was not used to encountering. Now he has been provided with some more clues about what exists behind her vulnerable tarsier eyes, and he is excited. This is a new challenge. And yet. Wouldn’t it have been easier if she did not have this other side? If she could have been enfolded within the narrative that was furiously being woven about her with the help of disparate threads—some real, most imaginary—but all being accorded the same amount of space and value as if the difference between the fake and the real does not matter anymore as long as everything could be fitted into an easily explained, easily propagated, easily digested world.

*

The gated societies of Delhi often have Residents’ Welfare Association (RWA) that have rules for visitors, especially males. When Deepak had moved in with the twins, Layla was regularly pestered by the head of RWA – Mr. Deol, to submit Deepak’s identity documents. Mr. Deol explained,

“We made the rule that we could not allow any overnight male visitor in any all-women household until they handed over his passport copy and gave us in writing what relationship they had with the man. I personally went to tell the sister that and to give them a copy of the notice. You know, the sister had looked at me very strangely then.’”

Pick your copy of So All Is Peace, to read how the shocking events unfolded in the starving sisters’ lives.