Book: Bhaunri—A Novel Author: Anukrti Upadhyay Publisher: Fourth Estate India Pages: 148 pages Price: 299 (Written by Divya Sethu) “If hearts don’t meet, bodies are but fleshy houses of sin.” Bhaunri’s mother’s words dictate the rest of the story, which is set in rural Rajasthan. Bhaunri tells the tale of a girl who is married as a child and sent to live with her husband as a young woman. The eponymous character is the product of her upbringing; the first few pages of the book revolve briefly around how her mother left behind a loveless marriage with an impotent man, and ran away with Bhaunri’s father. Bhaunri is drawn to her husband, Bheema, from the moment she sets her eyes on him. But Bheema is a product of his fraught upbringing too: he is unfaithful and abusive, just like his father was to his mother. Bhaunri loves her husband, but his unfaithfulness pains her. “A woman’s capacity to bear is unending… it is not our place to complain,” Bhaunri’s mother-in-law, known simply as Mai, tells her. Mai and Bhaunri are at two ends of a spectrum, and through their respective lenses, we understand the complexities and layers of emotions that women feel. No woman in this book is one-dimensional, or portrayed as either too good or too bad. Bhaunri’s resilience is admirable, but the fact that she does not care about the consequences of the extremities of her emotions, is not. Mai is logical, but submissive, and her compliance with her son and husband’s actions can leave the reader frustrated. Bhaunri’s father-in-law is a noteworthy character, who often leaves the reader conflicted about his real nature and intentions. He is a true patriarch and extremely violent. He is also said to be the reason behind Bheema’s brother being driven to madness. And yet, he seems to be the only character which is accepting of Bhaunri’s defiance and will to stand up for herself, and does not try to subdue her. The one flaw that stands out in the book is the lack of closure given to the characters. Though the story builds steadily at the right pace, it ends so abruptly that it leaves too much room for exploration of the characters, and diving more into their back stories, especially those of Bhaunri’s mother and Bheema’s brother, Mangla. Anukriti Upadhyay manages to capture the different perspectives and spectrums of feminism in the book extremely well. Some women submit, some protest, and some walk somewhere in the middle — and yet, each decision has a solid justification behind it. The theme of love comes with the baggage of jealousy, violence and a sense of ownership: this prevents the narrative from deviating into something idealistic rather than what is raw and relatable.
