![]() ![]() Shalini’s quest – to find meaning, to discover her true self away from the everyday, away from her absent father, away from the shadow of her larger-than-life mother, away from everything that privilege can insulate from – is a masterful piece of fiction. There are quiet moments of reflection as the present and past start to mirror each other, secrets are revealed and memories are interrogated until they take on new meaning. At one point, she realises: “For people like me, safe and protected, even the greatest risk is, ultimately, an indulgence.” It’s the classic do-gooder syndrome – being a saviour doesn’t mean you get what’s going on. Shalini is reminded that she is an outsider. ![]() Her efforts prove catastrophic, however, and the novel becomes a powerful meditation on the chaos of good intentions – how well-meaning philanthropy can be undone by the naivety of privilege. Maybe, she thinks, she can give something to these people and their lives. However, with each new experience, Shalini feels the pull of a true calling. ![]() ![]() She struggles to reconcile the push and pull between living “an ordinary life” and the realities of violence. She misunderstands the threat of soldiers. But her background of wealth and privilege is of little use to her here. Boarding with a kind family amid the political tension and remnants of conflict, she discovers the importance of kinship and community. Shalini decides to track him down, following a half-remembered clue that leads her to a mountain village in Kashmir. ![]()
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